I confess: I am a super-hero geek. Almost all of the details in this chapter were gathered from years of browsing comics, both DC and Marvel (or Gold Key), at the newsstand, in the drugstore, bookstore, my own collection, the neighbor kids' collections (who always seemed more extensive than mine).

I tried to be accurate to the comic book canon. Sometimes the details change over the years as the characters undergo revision or are updated. If my memory got foggy, I would fudge a little. Except for the manner of Aunt May's death and daughter May's birth. That's all mine.

Aunt May's letter to Mary Jane is taken from her monologue to Peter in the movie Spider-man 2.

I thought the origin of Wade's name was clever; tell me if I'm wrong.

Most everything I wrote about belongs to DC Comics, Marvel Comics, or Disney. I would be hard-pressed to separate them all.

CHAPTER THREE

NEW YEAR'S EVE, DECEMBER 31, 1999

NEW YORK CITY

The world was celebrating the beginning of a new millennium. There was an exclusive party on the observation deck of the Empire State Building. The crowd was festive--except for a young couple by the railing.

The actress Mary Jane Watson and her husband were there by special invitation. Mary Jane was dressed in her black silk formal and a faux fur. Peter Parker was in black tie. It was a mild winter night, with the temperature in the mid 30's. There was a bite in the air at that elevation. Mary Jane shivered, despite her fur. Her heart had never been lower. Peter shrugged off the cold as though it were a cool summer night. His superhuman strength enabled him to endure a great many things--except this.

"Petey, this won't work. We've given it all the effort. I'll always love you. But my heart can't stand any more," said Mary Jane in a teary voice.

"M.J., on tonight of all nights. It's the start of a new time. We could start out fresh--just like the rest of the world. Please, give us another chance," said Peter in a teary voice.

"Petey--what's going to change? You'll always be what you are. You'll always feel the suffering of the world. No. Your Uncle Ben was right. 'With great power comes great responsibility.' And you can't be less than what you are. That why I love you. And I thought I could stand it with you--the worry, the danger. Sharing you with those who need you. But I can't. I'm not that strong."

The wind wafted her thick red hair. Peter's eyes were grim as he fixed his gaze on the horizon.

"I'm flying out to Hollywood the day after New Year's. There's a movie offer," said Mary Jane in a low even voice. "I'll stay with some friends tonight. Marcie and Lisa. We did that airline commercial together."

"I remember them," said Peter.

"I--can't even think about seeing a lawyer--." Mary Jane put the back of her hand over her mouth.

Peter stifled a strangled groan of torture.

"Petey! I know I'm first in your life! But feeling like I'm--tenth! And never knowing when you might not come back--!" Mary Jane appealed.

Peter clenched his teeth. "I get it, M.J.!"

"I'm leaving now. I'm getting indoors before--midnight. Please don't--follow me!" Mary Jane walked swiftly from the railing. Revelers were with her on the elevator ride to the street level. When she left the building, she heard cries of "Hey, it's Spidey!" "Happy Millennium, Webhead!" "Hey, Wallcrawler, who loves ya? We do!" Of course. He would have left the observation deck in the quickest way possible.

Even though she was far from Times Square, Mary Jane had not reached her friends' apartment by midnight. The greatest crowd in New York's history had gathered itself in the city. She never dared to look up. She prayed that he would not be looking out for her--that other matters would occupy his attention tonight. But she walked in a perfect sense of safety. She knew he was spider-sensing her, wherever he was, in the Big Apple.

The movie offer was a big screen treatment of the Fearless Ferret. She played the part of the hero's romantic interest. The irony. She couldn't get away from super-heroes if she tried. The script was awful. The project tanked, thankfully.

Mary Jane subscribed to the Daily Bugle--just so she could follow the daily activities of Spiderman. She did whatever she could do to survive: office temp, waitress, small singing and acting gigs, and some modeling work. And when she wasn't eating, sleeping, or eking out a living, she was online--at home, at the public library, at cyber-cafes--following news of Spiderman. There were stories of team-ups with the Black Cat, Daredevil, and Shadowcat of the X-Men. The thought of Petey and Felicia Farr, a.k.a. the Black Cat, together, gnawed at her heart. Her life became narrowly confined.

SEPTEMBER, 200i

One night, she was coming in late. She clicked on the light in her apartment and uttered a little scream at the sight of the intruder: female, medium height, muscular, black bodysuit, mane of golden blonde hair, black mask: it was the Black Cat herself.

While Mary Jane tried to catch her breath after being startled, her visitor launched on a tirade. "What the hell is with you, Red? Don't you know what you're doing to Petey? To yourself?"

Mary Jane found her breath. "Don't you call him that! That's my privilege--mine and Aunt May's!"

"Yeah, well you kinda reneged on that privilege when you blew him off!"

"What happens between my husband and I is none of your business--Blondie!"

"Snappy comeback, kid. What do we do now, have a catfight--'scuse my pun--pull each other's hair, have a little-girl shoving match?"

"What are you doing here?" asked Mary Jane indignantly.

The Black Cat took off her mask and shook out her hair. "I've been shadowing you for the past couple weeks. Quite a life you've made for yourself, M.J.--borderline obsession, online stalking. Clipping out articles for your Spiderman scrapbook?"

Mary Jane blushed.

Felicia stared and guffawed. "You gotta be kidding. You actually made a scrapbook?"

"Don't call me 'M.J.'!" said Mary Jane defensively. "And stop analyzing me!"

"Mary Jane," said the Cat, softly, with less forcefulness, "Don't you get the point? There are ways you and he connect that I'll never have with him. To you he's 'Petey'. To him you're 'M.J.'. To me, he's not even 'Spidey'. He's the 'Spider'. Listen up for a minute. Truth or dare. Yes, I came on to him--a dozen different times--a dozen different ways--after you two split up. I tried shy and demure. I tried the 'bad girl'--he could web me to a wall and we could do it wearing just our masks--sorry--TMI. I tried aggressive, passionate. I tried to make it sound it casual, offhand, but the truth was I wanted him, desperately. I tried everything short of date rape. He doesn't want anyone but you. I'll admit it." The Cat held up her mask. "I'm not Felicia Farr anymore, except on my driver's license. This is my life. All I want is the mask. He needs someone who looks beyond the mask. You should realize how permanent a thing you have with him, especially in the business you're in. He needs you, but he's too much of a gentleman. He respects your wishes."

Mary Jane stood still, trying to swallow all that the Cat was telling her.

The Black Cat, Felicia Farr, peered intently at Mary Jane. "Not analyzing you, Red. Just informing you. Gotta go." She turned to leave, but with a toss of her blonde mane, she looked over her shoulder. "Oh, yeah, one more thing. Aunt May figured things out--just like you. Peter's big secret. The double life."

Mary Jane staggered at this news.

Felicia continued. "Peter had just had one of his climactic battles. He came home, half dead, took off his costume, and collapsed on his bed. Otherwise he wouldn't have been so careless. Aunt May let herself in with the spare key. Figured she would do Peter's laundry. You know how she is. Found Peter. Our bruised warrior. I'm surprised she didn't keel over right there. Been nursing him back to health. Now you and she have something in common." The look in her eyes became very sad. "Take care of him, Red. He's our warrior." And she was gone.

Mary Jane was breathless. She didn't leave her apartment for a day, stunned as she was. Then she decided. She packed her things and called the airline booking for a flight to LaGuardia Airport. She called Peter and left a text message. "Please forgive me. I'm coming home. I love you."

As she arrived for her outgoing flight, a text message arrived on her cell phone. "Please forgive me too. I'll be waiting. I love you."

But it was the morning of September 11, 2001, and all plane flights in the country were suddenly cancelled.

Mary Jane watched the big TV in the airport in torment as the columns of smoke rose over New York, Washington, D.C., and Virginia. Her torment increased as the Twin Towers collapsed into rubble. Every fiber of her being ached. Her spirit groaned within her. Oh, Petey. I wish you could fly. I wish I were there. Those poor people. The police. The fire fighters. The doctors, nurses, and paramedics. The supers. Oh, God, help them.

Mary Jane tried calling once. The phone lines were tied up. The she complied with the official request for the public to refrain from making phone calls except in an emergency. She camped out at the airport. Sleeping on the floor was nothing. Washcloth baths out of the public restroom sink was nothing. At last, on the third day, she caught a flight out. On the way, she got through to Petey's phone. No answer. She left a voice mail. "I'm coming." She told him when the flight would arrive. "I'll find my way--" and she hesitated; "--home." Yes. It was right. She was going home. "I know you're probably busy. Do what you have to do for the people who need you. I'll see you. I can already see you in my heart, doing what it is you do. I'm proud of you."

Mary Jane arrived in LaGuardia Airport. The increased security had gone into effect. It took her several hours to make her way through the lineup at the metal detector. And the carry-on luggage inspection. She considered waiting for the rest of her luggage, but after a minute, she left. Let some else claim it. What she wanted lay ahead of her--waiting.

As Mary Jane left the airport, she looked around for Petey. She expected she would have to catch a cab into the city. That might take--. It didn't matter. She would walk if she had to. She stood by the curb for a moment and had a sense. She spun around. It was like she had been granted spider sense. Petey stood a hundred feet away.

In a blink of an eye, they were in each other's arms, weeping. Words tumbled out.

"I'm so sor--!"

"Me too!"

"I love y--!"

"I love you t--!"

"What was I thinking, letting you go--?"

"It doesn't matter--I'm here--you're here!" Afterward, they could not tell who said what.

Peter had rented a car. They walked to the car holding each other tightly. Mary Jane had another sense. "Petey--something's wrong. What is it?"

He told her in the car. He covered his eyes with his hand. "Aunt May," he said, in a choked whisper.

Shock coursed through her. She knew at once what he meant. "When? Oh, God--she wasn't there, was she?" Mary asked, referring to the World Trade Center.

"No--it was at home--the day before--in her sleep. She had a smile on her face. I found her--just before--the first plane hit the Tower."

Peter was wracked with sobs. Oh, dear God. On top of everything else, this had to happen. Tenderly Mary Jane gathered her wounded warrior into her embrace and cradled his head on her shoulder.

And she learned:

May Parker's body was at the morgue since that morning. Mary Jane's mother, May's neighbor, had waited with her while Peter had departed. J.Jonah Jameson, editor, publisher, and owner of the Daily Bugle, had called Peter on his cell phone.

"Parker! The biggest story in the city's history! Get over to the Twin Towers and get me pictures!"

Peter had agonized: remain with the woman who was his mother, or go save lives.

But Mrs. Watson was a practical woman. She had come over for the traditional morning cup of coffee with her neighbor. "Go. Your aunt would understand. You were good to her. She's beyond our help. This is history--like Pearl Harbor. Do what you do--for posterity. You might even save some lives."

Spiderman was able to snatch a precious few from the lower stories--below where the airplanes had collided. But the incendiary jet fuel made it impossible to get to the upper floors. The people were as doomed with the presence of New York's superheroes as they were without them. He felt the tremors as he swung on a webline from a window carrying a lawyer and his legal assistant. In one arm. Chunks of concrete fell from above. The building crumbled behind them, and the cloud of dust billowed for many blocks. And he managed to take some pictures.

Peter Parker held the grief at bay for three days, while Spiderman carried the wounded to treatment, and carried the paramedics to those too injured to be moved. He brought medication and supplies to triage stations, and food and drink to the workers. He helped move the rubble, doing the work of many men. The work of a bulldozer and front-end-loader combined. He hardly slept.

But Mary Jane's voicemail awakened Peter Parker's slumbering sadness. He excused himself. The Mayor himself happened to be at the scene. "Your Honor, I gotta go."

The two pumped hands. "Well done, Spidey. The city thanks you. The nation thanks you."

Peter called the funeral home director. May Parker would be transported to the funeral home to lie in state.

"Petey," asked Mary Jane afterward, "Could we go somewhere special?"

The observation deck of the Empire State Building was closed--for security reasons. But Spiderman scaled the building with ease--even with Mary Jane in his arms.

They had the place to themselves. And in that place where neither had been since that New Year's Eve, in words that no one but themselves would ever know, Mary Jane and Peter poured forth their hearts to each other. Then they sat on the floor of the deck leaning against the wall, looking up at the stars. The weariness came upon him. The floor was like a down mattress. His head was pillowed in Mary Jane's lap. The costume mask was beside them. Her hand soothed his brow and her fingers smoothed his hair while he slept. The sun rose to a renewed Peter Parker. Spiderman swung from the building with a woman in his arms--the woman he loved, whose presence he had craved.

May Parker's funeral was three days later, attended by all the people her love had touched in her almost nine decades of life, including Peter and Mary Jane's high school classmates and friends. The casket and flowers were resplendent, paid for by J. Jonah Jameson in a rare charitable moment. The remarkable woman had touched even his flinty heart. He grasped Peter's hand warmly. "Parker," he said with profound sadness, "Your aunt was one helluva gal. Made me start paying you double for your prints--almost what they were really worth. I'm so sorry she's gone." It was the most compassion he had ever seen J. Jonah display--and the most generosity anyone had ever wrung out of the old miser. It was a surprise to Peter--even in death, she was looking out for him.

But Aunt May had one more surprise. Mrs. Watson handed her daughter a sealed envelope. "Honey, May always knew you two would get back together. She made me promise her to give you this. I have no idea what it says."

Dearest Mary Jane and Petey,

I know you'll be coming back soon, Mary Jane. And I know I won't be here to tell these things to you personally. A person just has a sense about those things. I know my time is almost at hand.

You made a brave move in confronting Petey, years ago, letting him know that you knew the truth, and you're making a brave move in coming back, and I'm proud of you, and I thank you. And I love you both, Mary Jane and Petey, so very, very much.

People know a hero when they see one. Too few characters out there, flying around like that saving old girls like me. And Lord knows, people need a hero. Courageous, self-sacrificing people, setting examples for all of us.

Everybody loves a hero. People line up for them. Cheer them. Scream their names. And years later, they'll tell how they stood in the rain for hours, just to get a glimpse of the one who taught them to hold on for a second longer.

But it takes someone special to love the one behind the hero's mask. Not everybody is cut out to do that.

I believe there's a hero in all of us, that keeps us honest, gives us strength, makes us noble, and finally allows us to die with pride. Even though sometimes we have to be steady and give up the thing we want most. Even our dreams. Spiderman does that for people. And you do that for Petey. And he wonders where you've gone. He needs you.

How you've comforted me, even though you weren't here. Because I know that you shared the great secret of Petey's life. You willingly shouldered the great burden. I hope that it's a comfort to you, even though I'm no longer here, that at last I knew the great secret. How I wish we could have spent more time together. I'd like to think that God kept this old girl alive until your return, to take care of Petey.

Be good to each other. Petey, I so look forward to seeing your Uncle Ben again. Always remember what I've already told you. Your Uncle Ben would be so proud of you if he were still here. As proud as I am of you. How I wish I could see your children, to hold them in my arms, and to tell them about their father when he was little, and their great-uncle. But I leave that to you.

All my love,

Aunt May

Mary Jane and Peter read the letter together. It was obvious that Aunt May had intended them to do so. They gripped each other's hand. Waves of awe washed over them.

Mary Jane wiped the tears from her eyes. "It's like she was here. It's like she knew I would come back. Oh, Petey, why did I stay so long? If I had come back sooner, I would have been here for her and you."

Peter wiped the tears from his eyes. "No, M.J. She knew that the timing was right. She knew you would come when you were most needed."

And that night, Mary Jane and Peter sealed their reunion, in each other's arms, in their common bed. Their bodies spoke a surer language than words ever could. And in the morning, Mary Jane knew, even though medical tests would not confirm it for another month. She had conceived. They would bear a child. And that child would bear the name of the woman who had been a mother to Peter Parker.

New York City began to rebuild its spirit after the fearful day. And Mary Jane began to show. By Christmas, it was quite obvious.

She took a break from acting. There were still modeling offers, especially from designers of maternity clothing. But she wanted to do something more than just occupy the time.

Mary Jane caught word of a most unusual series of classes. New York University was offering courses in Superhero Studies for its winter term, beginning in January. The courses were taught by no less than distinguished guest lecturer. Dr. Henry McCoy, PhD. Ed., on hiatus from the X-Men. It was easily the most popular course series in the history of the school. The course Mary Jane signed up for was Superhero Psychology. She registered online, with little hope of securing a spot, based on the small talk on campus. To her delight, she got the last opening. She took her husband aside. "A spot in this class is harder to get than a Super Bowl Ticket. Petey, did you use any influence?"

Peter winked slyly and shrugged. "M.J., you're registering under the name of 'Mrs. Parker', not 'Mrs. Spiderman'. I'm a free-lance photog and a lab research assistant. I couldn't even get you a discount at the textbook bookstore. You just lucked out."

At the first lecture, a standing ovation greeted Hank McCoy as he stepped up to the podium. He cut an impressive figure: broad and muscular, the blue fur, canine ears, and canine teeth were incongruous with the tailor-made three-piece suit and rich baritone speaking voice.

For their final assignment, each student was required to write a thesis. Mary Jane's topic was The Life of a Superhero: The Trials the Public Doesn't See.

It proved to be a catharsis for Mary Jane. For the first time in her life, she was able to verbally express the fears and worries that driven her and Peter apart. For the rough draft, she even included examples from the life of her own husband.

People were crazy for super-heroes, or "supers"; the excitement of having physical and mental abilities beyond normal humans, the glamour of being well-known, the thrill of battle, the intrigue of a secret identity--people didn't know jack.

It was tragedy, loss, and sadness; she could conduct a seminar on the subject, a Power Point presentation: the pitfalls of being a super--or being married to one.

One, two, three: loss of home, personal loss of life, loss of one's own integral identity or humanity.

First, the most poignant loss was the toll on domestic life--simply having a life of one's own. Divorce, dysfunction, and substance abuse were statistically high in families of those with careers in law enforcement; how much more so in a subculture as insulated and secretive, yet as loosely associated, as the supers.

The Flash, the third of that name in the Midwest Central City- Keystone City area, the third of the Speedster dynasty dating from World War 2, had lost his marriage, his secret Identity, and couldn't hold down a job. He wasn't a particularly inept super; indeed, by all appearances, being a super was the one thing he excelled in.

Dr. Henry Pym, one of the world's foremost biochemists had discovered a means to enlarge or reduce his stature, and developed cybernetic technology; he changed super personas and names the way people changed their make of car, like a lifelong identity crisis: Ant-Man, Giant-Man, Goliath, Yellowjacket. His marriage to socialite Janet Van Dyne, who was also his former partner, the Wasp, did not survive. He had even been briefly sentenced to prison for assault on his Avenger teammates and unknowingly aiding and abetting one of their foes.

The Green Arrow's sidekick, Speedy, had succumbed to heroin addiction; he had even administered it in the classic fashion, mainlining; he had kicked the habit, but he retired from the life of a super. There was a bright spot: the Green Arrow had become an outspoken advocate of the poor.

Even Mary Jane and Peter's own marital troubles, until she realized that life apart was no guarantee of peace and safety, and life together, with all its stresses was still preferable. They could strengthen each other. Plus, there was their daughter, May.

Second, the most tragic loss was one's family and friend to injury, or death--or worse, enmity.

Again, this area touched close to home. Peter's life had been riddled with loss. Immediately following the fateful bite by the genetically and radiologically altered spider, he had at first chosen to become a grade B celebrity, a tabloid-show curiosity. Uncle Benjamin and Aunt May were loving foster parents, but poor, and Peter wanted to alleviate that poverty. It was not until that tragic day: at the television studio where Spiderman had just finished a guest appearance at one of the tawdry reality based shows, a sleazy promoter had refused to pay the promised fee. Then, a cheap hood, a mugger, a smash-and-grab artist, had robbed and assaulted the promoter. Peter Parker, young to the ways of the world, refused to lift a finger to catch the fleeing man; it was poetic justice. Later that night, the same mugger had tried to carjack an elderly man's vehicle. The man--Benjamin Parker--was shot and killed, and a grief-stricken nephew promised himself to use his unique abilities to serve the greater good.

But as if to mock the idealistic young hero, fate dealt more loss. While Peter was dating the Betty Brant, J. Jonah Jameson's secretary, her brother Bennett had gotten involved in an extortion racket over gambling debts. Brother and sister had been taken hostage. Spiderman had broken in the hideout to rescue them, and Bennett died while shielding his sister from the fusillade of bullets. In dealing with the madness of grief, Betty had blamed Spiderman for his death. Peter, who had been contemplating sharing his great secret, suddenly cut short the romance.

The descent into darkness of Norman Osborn was like tipping over a row of dominoes. It set in motion a Greek chorus of tragedies. The genius of the inventor-industrialist (as Tony Stark had done for his bodyguard Iron Man--whoever it was under the high-tech armor) had impelled him to build ability-enhancing devices. But the psychosis of the wealthy driven self-made single father (would anyone ever really know why) impelled him to use his technology wickedly. He became the Green Goblin, Spiderman's greatest foe.

Mary Jane remembered the story of the climatic battle. For years the Goblin had toyed with Spiderman, like a cat with a mouse. Whereas Dr. Octopus, Kraven, the Sandman, Electro, and how many others had fought him in deadly earnest, seeking to eliminate him, the Goblin's goal seemed to be to only harass, to torment--like his namesake, a goblin, an imp. There was one battle that Peter had to abandon, giving the appearance of cowardice. He was needed at home, to care for Aunt May. Instead of taking the tactical advantage, the Goblin broke off pursuit, cackling madly--in full view of the New York City public. For weeks the Daily Bugle trumpeted Spiderman's final defeat--until a dramatic reappearance took the wind out of J. Jonah's sails.

The Goblin dickered with the city's most notorious crime bosses--James Fisk, Biggie Benson--used whoever he could for a cats paw. At last came the decisive engagement. The Goblin captured Peter, revealing both that he knew Spiderman's secret identity, and his own identity, as the father of Peter's college roommate, Harry Osborn. He had spotted a sleeve of the costume through the ajar door of Peter's closet in their dorm room; a moment of carelessness on Peter's part.

For his own perverse amusement, the Goblin imprisoned Peter in one of the Osborn factories. Osborn proposed a final battle, do or die--or else he would take reprisal on the family and friends of Peter Parker. What could he do but comply? The building was outfitted with booby traps. The Goblin had home court advantage; but he reckoned without the hero's heart. Spiderman destroyed the arsenal of pumpkin bombs. He destroyed the bat-like rocket sled that had made the Goblin so formidable.

The building was in flames. The Goblin cowered before the man who had bested him. Spiderman was about to beat him to a pulp when Osborn suffered a seizure. He came to in a moment, staring blankly about himself. Thinking swiftly, Spiderman took a daring gamble, a grave risk. He removed the Goblin mask and suit from the man, dressed him in Peter's clothes, and carried him outside.

The New York Fire Department was in force, trying to put out the fire. So was the Police Department. Spiderman left Norman Osborn in their hands, with the story that the Green Goblin had perished in the flames. Obviously the Goblin had also kidnapped Osborn and had inflicted "God knows what kind of physical and mental trauma on the poor man." He urged immediate treatment before swinging off into the night on a web strand--and hoped to God that the story he concocted would hold water. And so it seemed, for every trace of the Green Goblin was reduced to ash. Every newspaper (except the Daily Bugle, which blamed Spiderman for the fire and accused him of being the Goblin) dutifully published the account as reliable.

Why had he done it? As he would tell Mary Jane years later, it was for the love of Harry and his father. Maybe--just maybe--Norman Osborn would get the treatment he needed, forget his criminal life, or be convinced that it was an illusion; and father and son would be spared the public shame, the stigma. And it seemed to work. Norman Osborn forgot his former life. He became a philanthropist, a public benefactor.

That should have been the end of it; but when Harry suffered a psychotic episode himself, he failed college and was institutionalized. Norman's fragile hold on sanity collapsed. Memory came flooding back with wrenching agony. He blamed Harry's problems on Harry's friend and embarked on a vendetta. Feverishly, he rebuilt his Goblin devices.

The Green Goblin kidnapped Peter's then-fiancé, Gwendolyn Stacy, and flung her from the Queensborough Bridge as he saw his enemy approaching. Desperately, Spiderman shot a webline and snared her; but she had fallen too far. The jarring halt snapped her spine, and she was dead by the time he could retrieve her limp form.

Murderous grief maddened them both, one for a catatonic son, and one for a dead lover. They battled savagely, giving no quarter. When at last, however, Peter Parker, his costume in tatters, stood over the broken body of Norman Osborn as he had years before, his rage abated. He could not summon the will to deal the death blow. Both enemies only glared silently at each other, their bodies bruised, their chests heaving with exertion and emotion. Peter turned and walked away. But Norman Osborn, his garments also in shreds, staggered to his feet. He punched the button on his belt that summoned his rocket sled. It hurtled toward Peter, a deadly projectile. Peter's warning spider sense tingled and he adroitly dodged the missile. Norman was in the line of flight. It hit him squarely in the chest. He was slammed into a nearby brick wall. He died instantly of the massive trauma, his face frozen in the snarl of hatred.

That should have been the end of it. But the fate that Peter would have spared Harry Osborn found him anyway. The Green Goblin's death and his divulged identity were publicized for weeks. When Harry was discharged, he found his father's private journal and back-up cache of jet gliders and pumpkin bombs in the Osborn home. When he saw the entry in the journal revealing that his college roomie was his father's erstwhile opponent, his mind descended the same dark path as his father, like rain down the gutter. He donned the costume and wielded the weaponry of the Green Goblin.

He did not have the skill of his father. After a lame attempt at kidnapping Aunt May and Mary Jane herself, he was defeated by Spiderman and returned to institutionalization.

Harry never revealed what he knew of Spiderman's secret identity. When he was discharged again, he tried to make amends by becoming an ally. But again, the lack of skill was his undoing. He was killed in battle. It was a small comfort that their friendship was restored.

The Goblin dynasty continued. Someone new, the Hobgoblin, appeared, hired by James Fisk, the alleged mob overlord, the so-called Kingpin. After bedeviling Spiderman for several years, this Goblin also was killed--but not before ensnaring more of Peter's friends in the web of tragedy. Flash Thompson, who in high school was both a gifted athlete and a merciless bully to Peter Parker, was arrested for being the Hobgoblin. He was eventually cleared of suspicion and released, and ironically, became Peter's best man at his and Mary Jane's wedding. But the shock that ensued when the Hobgoblin's true identity was discovered: it was Ned Leeds, the husband of Betty Brant, J. Jonah Jameson's secretary and Peter's first unrequited love.

It was rumored that the protectors of the other two major cities on the eastern seaboard, Metropolis and Gotham City, had each lost their families; in fact, her husband, after meeting the Man of Steel personally, said that he had hinted at an entirely different world of origin, and that said world had perished in some sort of stellar cataclysm--talk about issues.

Tragedy stalked the footsteps of Batman as thoroughly as it did the footsteps of Spiderman. After his young sidekick, Robin had grown up and become his own hero, Nightwing, Batman took additional protégés under his wing, more "Robin's. Two died at the hands of the Joker before Batman gave up the experiment of trying to replicate heroes. Batwoman, with whom he began to share a romantic love, was also killed. Catwoman, who had reformed and was in love with Batman, was kidnapped by the Joker and brainwashed back into criminality. She eventually regained her bearings, but the love was lost.

Harvey Dent, Batman's friend and Gotham City's dynamic District Attorney, was disfigured by a vat of acid thrown. The psychological trauma unhinged him. Like Norman Osborn, he embraced a pathological persona. He called himself Two-Face went on a vendetta, killing those he held responsible.

Reed Richards had not been particularly close to his college roommate, an intense, moody young man in this country on a student visa, Victor von Doom, but he admired the keen intellect. The I.Q. of both was almost beyond measurement, and there was a good-natured rivalry--until Reed dared interfere with Victor's pet project: trying to harness psychic energy with an electronic device, in an endeavor to contact the spirit of his departed mother; like conducting a séance with a ham radio.

Reed examined the device and found it faulty. He tried to warn the foolhardy young man, but Victor had the pride of a fallen Lucifer; he considered himself beyond reproof.

The device blew up on its first use, disfiguring him. Victor, who was proud of his perfect face as he was of his perfect mind, disappeared from the hospital, amid rants that the device must have been tampered with by Reed. And so, years later, when Reed and his closest friends had acquired abilities and established vocations, an old acquaintance arose to bedevil him, garbed in dark armor and robes, arrayed with fearful weaponry: Dr. Doom.

Reed married his partner and lover, Susan Storm. They had a son, Franklin. But while pregnant with what would have been their second child, Sue miscarried as a result of injuries inflicted Annihilus, another armored foe.

Charles Xavier wanted his lifelong friend, Erik Magnus Lensherr, to join him in the noble work of gathering together those who had been born with the superhuman abilities; mutants, some called them; a new emerging human species, others said: Homo Superior. Whatever the name, whatever the cause for the rapidly proliferating number of such individuals, Charles envisioned a peaceful coexistence between the two varieties of human, those gifted with powers using them beneficially, those not gifted with powers welcoming the others without bigotry, fear, or suspicion.

It was not to be. Magnus had spent his early youth in a Nazi concentration camp. Peaceful coexistence was a myth. One group had been sequestered and targeted for elimination. What would keep it from happening to another? And so, ironically, he took a lesson from the Zionists. The mutants, like the Jews, should have their own homeland, unaligned, beholden to no one. Thus began Magneto's Brotherhood.

Third, the most profound loss was one's very self, one's own person.

Hank McCoy, the Beast of the X-Men, had been born with a prehensile ability to climb, jump, and leap. He had the body mass of a bull gorilla, and several times the strength--(a strength almost rivaling Peter's, yet was as agile as a spider monkey--Mary Jane smiled to herself at the unconscious pun.) He was also an electronics wizard capable as Tony Stark--and held doctorates in philosophy, language, and teaching. It was also to his chagrin that the mutation continued to advance. His appearance changed. He became canine-like, with pointed ears, long fur, and fangs. It was only the timely intervention of a team of experts convened by Professor Xavier that discovered--by accident--how to halt the onset of the condition, before that magnificent mind degenerated to a sub-human state. So Dr. McCoy, super, inventor, and university lecturer, with his reading glasses perched on his nose, accepted his fate with his usual aplomb and graciousness.

Especially sad was the occurrence of more than one incident, if loss should strike in two or three of the categories. It was as though they were born under an evil star.

Steve Rogers, Captain America, had undergone it all: the death of his best friend and partner Bucky Barnes, at the hand of Baron Zemo; his fiancé Sharon Carter, the former S.H I.E.L.D. agent, who had joined The Order, a fascist group and then died by self-immolation; his very life had been split in half, locked in the arctic ice in suspended animation for three decades; a pre- and post-awakening life. He blamed himself for taking a sidekick like Bucky whose abilities had not been enhanced by the experimental Super Soldier serum, whose demise seemed almost inevitable in hindsight. Nick Fury, a fellow WW2 vet and Steve's closest confidante, would often find him brooding: "The past wrappin' itself around him, never lettin' him go," Col. Fury once observed.

Benjamin Grimm, in acquiring superhuman strength, had acquired a fearful appearance, unlike Fantastic Four partners, who still looked ordinary. He learned to deal with his appearance, however; he resigned himself to it. He became known for his homespun insights, the proverbs by his Aunt Petunia, and crude but humorous observations; he became an object of public adoration, especially in the Big Apple; his bad language, his poor grammar, his temper; the New Yorkers took him to their hearts; he was one of their own. Alas, his engagement to Alicia Masters did not endure.

Unlike Ben Grimm, Dr. Robert Bruce Banner, respected nuclear physicist, was forever saddled with a Jekyll-Hyde existence, changing seemingly at random, in the blink of an eye, according to his mood, or his emotional state, forever struggling with trying to retain his intellect when he changed into the Hulk; sometimes he was reduced to a grunting monosyllabic creature. The world's strongest man, yet shunned as a freak. The associates of Dr. Banner, Gen. Ross and Maj. Glenn Talbot, were sworn to capture (or kill) the Hulk. In a cruel twist of fate, he lost his heart to Ross's daughter, Betty, but she chose to become Mrs. Talbot. When Talbot finally went so far as to attempt to murder Dr. Banner, she left him. Talbot was killed in a very trap he had set for Banner-Hulk. It seemed that for time fate was kind to the hapless man; he had learned how to control the change; he learned how to think rationally while he was the Hulk; he was gaining respect as a genuine law-abiding Super. Bruce Banner and Betty Ross Talbot even married; then it all came apart. Betty proved unequal to the stress and suffered an emotional breakdown; she divorced Bruce. Modok, the mad genius of A.I.M. (Advanced Idea Mechanics) exploited the situation; he abducted Betty and subjected her to the same variety of gamma rays that had first triggered Banner's transformation. She became the Harpy, a personification of the mythical creature, half-woman and half-bird-of-prey. The two former lovers, the two former spouses, both gamma-irradiated, both grotesquely transformed, were now arch-enemies. What a horrible irony.

The marriage of Clint Barton, a.k.a. Hawkeye , and Mockingbird, both belonging to the West Coast Avengers, did not survive; it was an especially bitter divorce; and later she herself lost her life in battle.

Daredevil had become a frequent ally of Spiderman--and Matthew Murdock had become almost a family friend of the Parkers'. She could watch his ascents and declines from his elbow, as it were. A red head--like herself--who grew up poor in a single parent home--like herself--and bullied--like Peter He was robbed of his sight by a blow on the head; robbed of his father--a former heavyweight boxer--by a crooked fight promoter. He went on to graduate law school at the top of his class. He was bestowed (or accursed) with phenomenal senses and reflexes by the same accident that took his sight--and a high dose of radiation (there it was again--like Peter, like the Fantastic Four, like God knows how many others). Like her husband he was now capable of certain physical feats beyond the ability of other men. He could more than compensate for his loss of vision. He had become one of the foremost trial lawyers in the nation. Drawing upon his enhanced sensory, athletic, and acrobatic prowess, he fashioned the super-hero identity for himself and tracked down his father's killers. But vocational success both as an attorney and super did not translate into personal happiness.

Daredevil had lost the love of his life, Electra Natcios, twice over. First she had become an enemy: a ninja assassin in the hire of Fisk, the Kingpin. Then she was ruthlessly dispatched by another of Fisk's specialists, Bullseye. Daredevil then tracked down Bullseye, and had left him a quadriplegic in reprisal; but Bullseye had recovered, and in turned tracked down Daredevil--and Matthew Murdock lost the love of his life, Karen Page, just like Peter, Gwen Stacy, and Norman Osborn. Next he had been out-ed by a tabloid--not for sexual preference, but secret identity. And he settled for being a protector of his home neighborhood: Hell's Kitchen.

As Elasti-Girl (or -Woman) of the Incredibles was rumored to have said: your secret identity is your most valuable possession.

To avoid risk to his law partner and friend Franklin Nelson, he became a recluse, leaving the law practice and taking up residence in a seed flat in Hell's Kitchen. As Daredevil he became something of a self-proclaimed vigilante for the Hell's Kitchen neighborhood, and as Matt Murdock he occupied himself with doing pro-bono work at the free legal clinic and taking obscure jobs like short-order cooking. Depending on the availability of work, he might even find himself homeless from time to time. Peter-Spiderman was probably his last friend; he would shepherd the man through occasional bouts of despondency, and even binge-drinking; how the mighty were fallen.

The two most poignant, most tragic stories were those of Wanda Maximov, Magneto's daughter, the Scarlet Witch; and Marvel Girl, Phoenix, member of the X-Men.

Wanda and her brother Pietro had been abandoned by their father and raised by a nanny in a small village somewhere in Rumania--or Hungary--no one was really sure--where people still lived like it was the seventeenth century--small farms, no electricity, no cars, no medical care, short life expectancy, superstition--lots of superstition. Both children had discovered their mutant abilities: Pietro could move at super-speed; Wanda could--well, make things happen; a cow dropping dead, a barn bursting into flame; unfortunate things; the people in the village believed in the Evil Eye, the Hex. Wanda must be a witch.

A torch-wielding mob pursued Wanda. Pietro appeared, exercising his own mutant ability: super speed. He fended off their attackers as long as he could, but he was overwhelmed by numbers. Suddenly, their metal tools, like hammers, plows, and pitchforks came to life and laid them low. A man in a red helmet and cloak appeared to make the objects move with a wave of his hand.

"Thank you, stranger," said Wanda.

"Come with me. I will give you a place--and a purpose," the man said. And so the Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver became part of Magneto's Brotherhood.

But it didn't feel right--battling other supers--opposing the Homo Sapiens. When the Avengers issued a call to join, they accepted, and resolved the moral and ethical dilemma in their hearts. Wanda found romance and marriage with her fellow Avenger, the Vision--an android, to be sure, but capable of emotion. She found fulfillment in mastery of her hex ability.

But her happiness crumbled. Magneto revealed his secret. She was Wanda Maximov, daughter of Magnus. The hex power affected her reason. She became delusional--psychotic. Her marriage crumbled. She imagined having children. She imagined them abducted. She took over the mind of a fellow Avenger, She-Hulk, who killed other Avengers, the Falcon, Antman, Hawkeye, and most tragically, the Vision. The Wasp was left comatose. Captain America was gravely injured. Wanda was left catatonic. It nearly spelled the end of the Avengers. Her love, her imagined family, her fulfillment, her sanity--all were gone.

Marvel Girl--whoever she was--was a victim of latent sexism among the supers. In high school when she joined the X-Men, she suffered the fate of others, like Invisible Girl and Supergirl. Male super had the option of being addressed as adult men, like Iceman and Spiderman--her own husband-to-be. Mary Jane identified with her, another redhead. When the X-Men encountered an artifact called the M'Kraan Crystal, Marvel Girl had an upgrade--and a makeover. Her telekinetic abilities increased exponentially. Mary Jane the fashionista had nothing but appreciation for Marvel Girl's new name--Phoenix--and her new costume--the green and yellow color scheme with the sash--she was a goddess.

Her love affair with her fellow X-Man, Cyclops, was the stuff of legend. Everyone in the super community looked forward to another wedding. And then it all came apart. The secret director, Sebastian Shaw, of New York City's exclusive club of the idle rich, The Hellfire Club, did a thing even Magneto never succeeded at: tempting an X-Man to break ranks. Shaw, himself a mutant, used the extrasensory powers of Emma Frost and Mastermind to induce Phoenix to switch her allegiance. She joined the Hellfire Club's Inner Circle, a secret order dedicated to world supremacy, like Magneto's Brotherhood. But to their dismay, they unleashed an awful persona: the Dark Phoenix, capable of obliterating the entire planet. The Hellfire Club was decimated. In a last moment of clarity, and a supreme act of self-sacrifice, Phoenix stood in the line of fire of a disintegration beam.

In the final version of her paper, Mary Jane had been careful to edit out all personal references. Still, the project had been an emotional release for her. For the first time, she was able to put into words all the feelings she had as the wife of a super. She wished she could submit the paper in a personal way.

Dr. McCoy gave her paper an A-plus grade. "You show rare insight, both in categorizing the difficulties of a super's life, and in selecting examples of each category from examples that are a matter of public record--and yet, how you write shows an almost personal familiarity with these events. You write with love, Mrs. Parker--as though you were the parent--or the sibling--or the spouse--of a super, instead of only an acquaintance, through your husband's ties with Spiderman."

Mary Jane gulped. Had she revealed too much?

Dr. McCoy handed the paper back. "Do with it as you will, Mrs. Parker. There are no photocopies. I'm not interested in speculation. But--will you consent to talk with a colleague of mine?"

Mary Jane was introduced to the head of Global Justice, Dr. Elizabeth Director. Petey had once described a meeting with Col. Nicholas Fury, the head of S.H.I.E.L.D.--an eyepatch, but the remaining eye could look right through you--personable but no-nonsense--a self-depreciating humor, but with the sobriety of someone who had the defense of the world as their duty. Mary Jane now understood what he meant.

"Mrs. Parker, my good friend Dr. McCoy had referred you to me. I have a proposition for you. Like many agencies that operate--covertly--we're always keeping a low profile, but we're always seeking recruits. You have that rare gift of knowing much and understanding much but divulging little. My organization is always dealing with supers. It's a dangerous time in the world--religious radicals, political radicals on one side, and fearful, overly cautious bureaucrats on the other side. There are people in government, and even in my own agency, who believe that unregulated supers pose a danger. They would even make secret identities illegal. I'm seeking people who have the sensitivity to analyze, and the humanity to be concerned for those they analyze. I'm seeking someone like--you, Mrs. Parker."

Mary Jane was speechless.

Dr. Director continued. "It's hard to attach a label to what you would do, Mrs. Parker. Profiler--advocate--ombudsman--representative. This isn't a fulltime lifelong commitment. Officially you would be a civilian advisor, not an agent. You could keep your personal life. You would not have to worry about being compromised. You wouldn't have to 'disappear' in an emergency. And you could be a voice for those supers you obviously feel so connected to." She held up a file. "This is the dossier on Captain America. Much of the material is now declassified. Steve Rogers was an ordinary man who was given the extraordinary opportunity to serve his country. I offer the same opportunity to you."

Dr. McCoy spoke up. "Prof. Xavier made a very similar offer to me when I was a young man, Mrs. Parker. I've never regretted accepting it."

"Many of the trials you mention in the lives of the supers occur because there is no safety net of support for them," said Dr. Director. "I don't guarantee that your efforts will help in that area--any more than mine might help--but when the supers represent the thin life of defense against their evil counterparts, any effort is better than no effort."

Mary Jane took a long time to answer. "There's someone I have to talk to," she finally said."

"Take all the time you need," said Betty Director.

"Contact me if you decide," said Hank McCoy.

"Petey--what do you think?" Mary Jane asked her husband.

"Wow--my wife--being like a secret agent. But could you handle it--with your show biz--and the baby?" And he hastily added, "I mean--I'll pitch in with her."

Mary Jane smiled. "Petey--be practical. If there's anyone whose vocation makes it hard to be around, it's you. Plus, Dr. Director assured me, I could keep a personal life."

Peter shrugged. "No problem here."

And so Mary Jane became a civilian consultant attached to Global Justice. Not everyone welcomed her arrival. Agent Will Du, Betty Director's protégé, protested. "She's an actress! A model! She's useless!" He would one day feel the same about another redhead, a high school student and cheerleader.

Mary Jane gave birth in the spring. It was a girl. They named her May Parker. She had Peter's brown hair, brown eyes, and Mary Jane's small ears and mouth.

New York City

May, 2006

Mary Jane got a phone call before catching the plane to Middleton, Colorado, to visit Kim Possible and her mother, in preparation of the new reality TV show.

"Mary Jane, hi. It's Betty Director." Mary Jane's planned visit with Kim Possible had come to her attention. Global Justice still wanted Kim Possible--and Richard Harte. They were even willing to take Ron Stoppable. Would Mary Jane assess Kim's openness to such an offer?

Yes. Mary Jane would.

Middleton, Colorado

May, 2006

Mary Jane Watson had just left Middleton High School. She was wrapped in her own thoughts, her own considerations. She had researched Kim and Dr. Possible thoroughly, as she always researched someone thoroughly when her name was attached to a project; and the more she studied Kim Possible, the more engrossed she became. Kim reminded her of herself; and not just because of the red hair. Kim was a go-getter; she thrived on challenge; the man in her life was quiet and shy; no one had taken him seriously in high school; he even referred to her by her initials: K.P.

Just like Mary Jane's husband, Peter Parker. Quiet and shy. Underrated. For as long as she could remember, he had called her M.J.

There was also a deeper resemblance: the super-hero connection.

The studio had done extensive research to find the most visible contestants; it had chosen Kim for star quality; a teen super hero flush with victory and thrust into the limelight. She had fame before this, but it was the big time now; and her mother was a prominent neurosurgeon.

Mary Jane Watson also believed in extensive research. Normally she would restrict her research to the periodicals and publications, even the school yearbooks and student periodicals, but because of the super hero aspect, she broadened her database. Her husband's status as a backup Avenger gave him access to other sources which she had prevailed on him to consult, and he had lovingly complied. There were the files of international law enforcement organizations like S.H.I.E.L.D. and Global Justice, and even the Avengers' own files. Not only did they document the minute biographic details, but they profiled each one psychologically. Mary Jane felt some reluctance; it was like covert surveillance.

It was all here on her PDA; after she had reviewed the pertinent information, she would enter the command to wipe the hard drive clean; the data was too sensitive.

Name: Kimberly Ann Possible

Birthplace: Middleton, Colorado

Parents: James Timothy Possible, PhD., rocket engineer; Annette Joan Possible, PhD., M.D., neurosurgeon

Siblings: Jim and Tim, identical twins

Nickname: Kim (friends); K.P. (Ron); Kimmie-cub (father)

Most super heroes began their vocation as the result of one or two significant events. They acquired their special abilities as the result of a technological accident, chemical or radioactive exposure, or whatever. Then a traumatic event, like the death of a loved one, would strengthen their resolve to use those special abilities.

Kim seemed to go against type. There was no pain in her childhood--except the pain of her two little brothers who spied on her and played practical jokes on her, and the embarrassment of two parents who spoiled her with affection and affirmed her in every pursuit she ever tried. Mary Jane would have given much to have to have a father who had a pet name for his daughter (like "Kimmie-cub") instead of reviling epithets ("You're nothing but a tramp--just like your mother!") She crushed on the class hottie, liked designer labels, and became captain of the cheer squad.

She had a most unorthodox origin: a simple webpage, and a simple tagline, "I can do anything" to solicit babysitting jobs turned into a super-hero career.

In other respects, Kim had what it took to be a super. She was a type "A" personality with an "A" grade point. She was proficient in over a dozen forms of kung-fu. Her leadership and problem-solving skills in school and babysitting translated well into being a costumed crusader. From saving flood-stricken villages to piloting tugboats through hurricanes, to climbing mountains, to parachuting, to opposing mad would-be world conquerors, Kim had proven what her father was reported to have often said, "Anything is possible for a Possible."

She retained the characteristic modesty in the face of overwhelming gratitude. "Aw, it was no big," she would say. Much like another super Mary Jane knew: "Your friendly neighborhood Spiderman."

Projected vocation: she would be a leader of one the international organizations like S.H.I.E.L.D. or Global Justice; she would be another Col. Nicholas Fury or Dr. Betty Director--most likely down to the eyepatch and facial scars, having sustained numerous injuries in the course of her crime fighting career.

The thought of one of those shining green eyes put out, of that lovely face disfigured, made Mary Jane's insides twist.

Name: Ronald Adrian Stoppable

Birthplace: Middleton, Colorado

Parents: Abraham Stoppable, actuary, cantor; Rachel Stoppable, bank teller, housewife

Siblings: none

Nickname: Ron

Projected vocation; fast food worker, professional stamp and coin collector

Ron was the ultimate pathetic sidekick: afraid of bugs, dumping all the class project work on the lab partner (usually Kim), borrowing money (usually from Kim), borrowing someone else's homework (usually Kim's), barging in on Kim's dates; it was easy to see why Kim was constantly "tweaked" (in her words) at him. But he had his moments. He disguised himself as Kim's father and foiled a kidnapping attempt by Dr. Drakken. He single-handedly defeated a super-villain, Gill, who had abducted Kim and the entire Middleton High Cheer Squad.

Global Justice at first had approached Kim (she would later say they shanghaied her) to join; they weren't interested in Ron. Later, they decided to foot the bill for an entire statistical probability study: that Ron's clumsy, inept but sincere efforts as Kim's partner were responsible for her remarkable record of victories over her adversaries, her martial and acrobatic skills notwithstanding. It was something like the Hex power of the Scarlet Witch and the probability power of the Black Cat. They called it the "Ron factor". Kim herself had said that she couldn't save the world without him.

And then there was that climactic moment; unseen by the world, alluded to by Kim in news interviews, but envisioned by Mary Jane. It was that dramatic moment between Kim and Ron where they confronted each other and acknowledged their love--just as Mary Jane confronted Peter and divulged her own love for him--and her confession that she knew his secret--he was Spiderman. Mary Jane knew without looking at a shred of the statistical evidence; this was the true Ron Factor.

There was also a gap in the record. In his sophomore year of high school, Ron had gone to Japan as an exchange student--and simply vanished for a period of time. His movements were untraceable, but from the time of his return to Middleton, an almost indiscernible but ever-increasing proficiency was seen by Global Justice profilers in Ron's martial arts ability and partnering skills. Speculation was rampant. One of the more imaginative scenarios was that he attended a secret school in the mountain fastness, a school that had existed for centuries, and taught ninja skills--a school that eluded all efforts by the most modern satellite surveillance and most thorough search by both law enforcement agencies and criminal syndicates to discover its location.

Revised projected vocation: (since dating Kim, working for the Bueno Nacho organization, and being personally hired by Pop Pop Porter) he would go on to become a regional manager, or an independent caterer

Mary Jane identified with Ron. She had suffered in silence while Peter was involved with Felicia Farr, the Black Cat. But Felicia attracted to the sex appeal of the masked super, not the mundane chemical engineer-dash-photojournalist. Felicia no more cared for Peter Parker than Erik Drake "cared" for Kim Possible. Mary Jane understood Ron's emotional meltdown when he declared to the world that he was losing everything he ever cared about.

And Mary Jane identified with Kim. After a lifetime of being the vivacious high profile redhead who crushed on the class hottie, who all the guys hit on, how great a shock it was to realize that one who really made her heart melt was the shy, quiet boy she had known since pre-k, the dork, the one the bullies hassled, whether his name was Peter--or Ron.

Name: Washington Demetrius Load VII

Birthplace: Middleton, Colorado

Nickname: Wade

Parents: Washington Demetrius Load VI, deceased; Ophelia Mahalia Load, D.D., ordained minister, choir director, community activist, pastored her own church.

Some might think it odd that the profilers had included a non-super-hero, but analysis showed that Wade Load was as integral a part of the team as the those involved on missions; he was a technology prodigy and inventor, surely on the level of Anthony Stark, Iron Man's employer, perhaps even approaching the ability of Henry Pym--or Reed Richard. Those who pictured super-heroes as having square jaws and chiseled physiques did not reckon with, say, for sake of argument, Charles Xavier, the clandestine founder of the X-Men, who was a paraplegic and confined to a wheelchair

Wade was an agoraphobic and a recluse. He hardly ventured outdoors. He had a college PhD. in computer science at age ten. Most child prodigies had severe emotional difficulties. But Wade had a healthy emotional outlet: His computer room was Team Possible's Mission Control. The royalties from his inventions and the fees from his consultant services allowed him and his mother to live in economic security.

Mary Jane read with intense interest the story of Wade's ancestor on his father's side, Washington Demetrius Load I.

Demetrius was a slave who had escaped from Virginia in 1829. He made his way to Boston. He educated himself, and renamed himself: Washington Demetrius Load; Washington for the Father of his country, and Load for the reference from "Pilgrim's Progress".

"Pilgrim's Progress", by John Bunyan, was an allegory about Christian life. Washington Demetrius was profoundly impressed by the imagery, especially the symbol of the burden of sin that the main character had to carry: "I am so loaden with the burden that is on my back."

"Now I saw in my dream, that the highway up which Christian was to go, was fenced on either side with a wall, and that wall was called Salvation. Isa. 26:1 Up this way, therefore, did burdened Christian run, but not without great difficulty, because of the load on his back. He ran thus till he came at a place somewhat ascending, and upon that place stood a cross...just as Christian came up with the cross, his burden loosed from off his shoulders, and fell from off his back, and began to tumble...and I saw it no more. Then was Christian glad and lightsome, and said, with a merry heart, "He hath given me rest by his sorrow, and life by his death..."

His burden was gone, both of slavery, and of sin, but to remind himself of that burden, he called himself Washington Demetrius Load.

Name: Rufus

Birthplace: unknown

Place of Acquisition: Pet and Pet Supplies Dept., Smarty Mart, Middleton branch

Species: Heterocephalus glaber, Naked Mole Rat (non-human)

Owner: Ron Stoppable

Once the Global Justice profilers had determined that Wade Load was a legitimate member of Team Possible, it was only a short step to considering Rufus likewise. He had definitely proven himself invaluable on their missions. He seemed to have an almost telepathic bond with Ron. He also displayed a manual dexterity equal to the higher primates, humans and great apes, and even a mechanical aptitude. The forensic examiners of Global Justice fervently wanted to confiscate Rufus and subject him to all their experimental and diagnostic procedures, but Dr. Director exercised all the weight of her authority and forbad it.

It could not be found where Rufus was born, whether in the wild or a zoo or a breeding farm. Records simply did not exist. Ron's parents simply purchased him on the same day as Kim tried out for the Maddog Cheer Squad--the same day her webpage went online: same day as their first "mission"--it was a day fraught with destiny.

The decision to classify him as Ron's "animal" instead of Ron's "pet" or "associate" was purely arbitrary. The debate created a small firestorm among the profilers, particularly a few who were registered members of PETA. Given the latest political climate regarding the animal protection movement and the confusion an "insensitive" label might cause, it was decided that Rufus was not a "pet" and that Ron was not Rufus's "master". "Owner" was the least offensive designation. The word "ally" was still under consideration.

And so Rufus joined the ranks of those who were officially classified a non-human super, like Krypto, Superman's dog, Ace, Batman's dog, Redwing, the Falcon's bird, and Aragorn, the Black Knight's horse.

The last two people, the most recent members of Team Possible, represented the more traditional super-hero archetype.

Name: Daphne Mei Harte

Birthplace: Kenjijen, Japan

Parents: Leo Benedict Harte, retired missionary, pastor; Mariah Bess Harte, deceased

Sibling; Richard Leo Harte, fraternal twin; she was the elder by a minute

Nickname: Daphne; Daph, Sis (her brother Richard)

Projected vocation: computer programmer, inventor

If Kim and Ron were typical teenagers of the twenty-first century, the Harte twins were typical teenagers of the eighteenth or nineteenth century. Deeply religious, studious, respectful. They seemed very out of place in contemporary American culture. Perhaps it had something to do with their upbringing--not in Middleton, or in America at all. They were born and raised in Japan. As with Ron, there was a period of time that could not be accounted for--in this case, several years. The same rumors flew. A martial arts academy, a secret boarding school--a Ninja Hogworts. It might well be true. The lives of shadowy heroes, like Batman, and the Shadow, and reclusive villains, like Dr. Doom, had strong hints of secret Tibetan influence.

Daphne and Kim had a history of personality conflict. Sparks often flew between them, in glares and body language more than in words.

Daphne thought that Kim was too shallow, and that for too long she had toyed with Ron's affections while dating first Walter Nelson, then Josh Mankey, then Erik Drake, when it was painfully obvious (at least to Daphne) that Ron had long carried a torch for Kim.

Kim thought that Daphne was intrusive and self-righteous. What had happened between Kim and Ron was the business of Kim and Ron, not a Little Miss Prim who came late the missions game.

Ironically, Daphne and Wade became colleagues. They met online. The soft-spoken studious missionary's daughter and the brash irrepressible soup kitchen director's son struck up a friendship every bit as profound as that of the red-haired cheerleader and the freckle-faced high school mascot.

Daphne and Wade both had an aptitude for computers and inventions. Daphne juggled two roles: with Wade she was tech support for Teams Possible and Harte, and with her brother, she was a partner on missions.

Daphne was the most cautious and withdrawn of Team Possible-Harte, the one least likely to indulge in jokes and frivolous humor.

Name: Richard Leo Harte

Birthplace: Kenjijen, Japan

Parents: Leo Benedict Harte, retired missionary, pastor; Mariah Bess Harte, deceased

Sibling: Daphne Mei Harte

Nickname: Rich; Ricky (mother and sister)

Projected vocation: freelance artist & writer

Surely here was another Peter Parker: brown-haired, bespectacled, well-read, intellectual, quiet, an interest in the visual arts--his was painting, like his sister, as Peter's was photography--and the loss of a parental figure--as Peter had lost his Uncle Benjamin. Like Kim, he had been approached by Global Justice to join, and like Kim, he had declined, preferring to work as a small-time independent. It was proverbial in Global Justice: there was no love lost between Will Du and Richard Harte--like Kim.

It was the exposure of Mariah Bess Harte to a nerve gas attack in Tokyo by a doomsday cult leader called the Venerable Master that had prompted Richard to put his martial arts talents to use. He prevailed upon his sister to join him, as in what began in a small way, they infiltrated and surveyed groups they thought dangerous. Sometimes they passed tips on to the authorities. Sometimes they simply took it upon themselves to apprehend a criminal and bring him to justice. It was dangerous work. But, as Mary Jane reminded herself, it was no more dangerous than a Middleton, Colorado high school student facing would-be world conquerors, or a Queens, New York high school student who had acquired spider-like super-powers single-handedly facing super villains that groups like the Avengers and the Fantastic Four found daunting.

And strangely the story took another turn. As loaded with destiny that Kim had her first mission on the day Kimpossible-dot-com went online and Ron acquired Rufus, was the fact that Mariah Bess Harte returned to the home of her youth for a final medical exam at the office of Dr. Annette Possible. There was no hope. The condition was terminal. But Annette Possible and Mariah Bess Harte became more than friends as a result of that single appointment.

When Mrs. Harte died, her family moved back to Middleton. Richard and Daphne continued to carry out their undercover missions. But Richard wanted to come to the surface. He wanted to do even more. And the way he chose to do that was to try and join himself and his sister to Kim and Ron. The union between Team Possible and Team Harte was the brainchild of Richard Harte. But it took a lot of work to convince a skeptical Kim, who trusted them no more than she trusted Will Du, and saw no need to enlarge the group, and a skeptical Daphne Harte, who ironically felt like Kim: two was a perfect number. Why tamper with perfection.

Hello, this was interesting: An intense preoccupation with chivalry and mythology.

Apparently Richard's great genius was literature: prose and poetry. It was his great love, after missions and painting. His literary knowledge rivaled Wade's computer knowledge

But there was a footnote to Richard's profile that made him sound absolutely unsavory.

Obsessive, unhealthy interest in chivalry and legend

Ability to make rational command decisions might be impaired

Has attached himself to Kim Possible

Mary Jane suspected that Will Du was responsible for that last entry.

There was something different about this assignment. Was it Mary Jane's sense of kinship with Kim? Was it that Kim and Ron were in the early unspoilt stages of their love? How it took Mary Jane back

Was it that Kim herself was marvelously untainted by grief and sorrow--up to this point?

Intensive research had only confirmed Mary Jane's presupposition; without fail, the lives of the supers were riddled with tragedy upon tragedy, multiplied loss and sadness. This was the fate that awaited each member of Team Possible.

Mary Jane had reconciled herself to what had happened to Peter and what more might happen. She would endure what life might mete out, for the sake of her love for Petey. But to expose Kim and her friends--to be a party to exposing them--to watch it happen. No matter how long they been doing missions--no matter how many evil plots they had foiled--they had no idea. It had no end--new enemies, new pressures.

A sob escaped her lips-she cupped her hand over her mouth. Tears escaped her eyes-she blinked them back. More sobs--she had to pull the car over and give vent to her sorrow. In a few moments she was composed again. She reapplied her makeup in the visor mirror and pulled out from the curb.

A frenzied desire to turn the car around and drive back to the high school seized Mary Jane, to grab Kim by the shoulders and urge her, Forget modeling, forget super-hero-ing; use that overachieving brain to get yourself into a sure thing, like the legal profession. Marry Ron--it's plain to see, he's crazy in love with you. Start a catering business--have a couple kids. If you feel like helping people, get into medicine like your mother. But leave the missions behind--it's nothing but heartache.

But she knew it was already too late: God, or Fate, had already decreed; Destiny had set its mark on each one of these exceptional people; she could see the fire in their eyes. Kim Possible and her Team were part of the next wave, like the Teen Titans, like the New Mutants of the X-Men--like young Franklin Richards. Even her own daughter, little May Parker, the object of her father's fierce pride and joy, was showing evidence of superhuman strength and speed, and the preternatural spider sense; Peter was grimly determined that his daughter live normally; how futile; as Peter's Uncle Ben had once said: "With great power comes great responsibility."

Mary Jane could not recall ever before feeling so depressed; she felt an intense longing to be in Petey's arms, to snatch up her little girl and smother her with hugs and kisses.

With a bleak outlook, Mary Jane Watson continued the drive to her hotel.

TO BE CONTINUED