Disclaimer: You know what I'm gonna say so let's skip that part and move on to chapter 3.
Chapter III
Social Hospitality
Ned Leeds was, if anything, ambitious about his job. Sometimes this ambition resulted in major pay dirt that got him in good graces with J. Jonah Jameson. Other times, it got him in more trouble than he really wanted. Ned was scalded severely by the boss for his failure to provide proof than Curt Connors transformed himself into the Lizard. Jameson didn't buy that notice for a second, even though he was there when the Lizard fought Spider-Man. Jameson considered it coincidence that Connors was there, assuming the monster had abducted him. Besides, Jameson respected Connors, and Jameson himself had a guilty conscience after the Scorpion fiasco. Ned didn't pry on that. He liked his job too much and he didn't want to end up like the other guy Jameson fired over false news. What was that guys' name? Ned didn't have the time to remember that, as he was waiting outside the New York Police Department to land an interview with Capt. Jean DeWolff. According to officers that Ned had interviewed, Jean DeWolff was a hard-nosed, no nonsense but honest cop. She had an odd affinity for classic 1930's cars and her choice of clothing seemed to reinforce that info. Speak of the devil; Jean DeWolff stormed out of the precinct and Ned Leeds followed. DeWolff noticed and audibly sighed.
"Capt. DeWolff! Ned Leeds with the Daily Bugle; I'd like to ask you a couple questions."
Capt. DeWolff walked by Ned like he wasn't there, but still shouted. "I got no comment, Leeds."
As usual, Ned wasn't willing to go home quite yet. "Word is that the authorities are implicating Spider-Man in the recent string of robberies, even though there's no physical evidence to support that claim. Care to comment on that, captain?"
Capt. DeWolff turned around so she was face to face Ned. "No Comment!" she said, each word being accompanied by a finger to Ned's chest.
The captain walked off but Ned was damn near relentless, following DeWolff to her car. As soon as DeWolff got into the driver's seat, Ned literally hopped into the passenger seat. Much to the captain's increasing annoyance!
"Leeds, I swear to God," she warned, grinding her teeth. "I'll have you arrested if you keep this up."
Ned actually had the gall to mockingly quip, "Wow, you're beautiful when you're angry."
Capt. DeWolff covered her face with one hand, keeping the other hand on the steering wheel. "You're treading on very thin ice, Leeds. Now get out of my car."
Ned sighed, half-defeated and stepped out of the car. But he didn't leave, much to the captain's chagrin. "Okay, off the record captain! You honestly think Spider-Man's to blame for these robberies?"
"Well, who else is there?"
"What about the rumors of a so-called Big Man orchestrating all the crime in New York?" Ned asked matter-of-factly.
"A Big Man," DeWolff wonder aloud, gawking at Ned as if he'd just grown an extra head. "That's about as likely as spotting Big Foot strolling through Central Park. As far as Spider-Man goes, he's as much a danger to this city as the lunatics he's fought. Now for your own sake, Leeds, drop the Big Man talk before you get dropped."
Capt. DeWolff started her car and, not waiting for Ned to release the door, drove off. Ned almost lost his hands when the car sped down the street. That went well!
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Peter hadn't been at Columbia University for a couple of months after he'd graduated. It was kind of a necessity after he purposed to Mary Jane the month before. But Peter was actually looking for Dr. Connors, having not seen him since the Lizard incident. At least he had his office/lab fixed but there wasn't any sing of the good doctor. A part of Peter feared that Connors had a relapse back into his reptilian alter ego. Peter noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. It appeared to be a birdcage, and inside was anything but a bird; a bat. First lizards, now bats! What next; a vulture?
"Dr. Connors, are you here?" Peter asked. He failed to notice someone else entering the lab.
"I'm afraid you just missed Dr. Connors by no less than 24 hours," The man announced in an eastern European accent, startling Peter. "He only recently moved out of New York with his family."
Peter was taken aback by the news of his teachers' departure, but really couldn't blame him for it after everything he'd been through. "Oh, well I knew about his leaving beforehand, but I didn't expect him to leave so soon."
The man entered the lab and approached Peter, who didn't sense any danger from him. In spite of that, the man wore grayish-black trousers, black boots, a navy blue shirt and a black trench coat. He appeared just slightly younger than Dr. Connors and sported jet black hair down to his shoulders. The biggest thing about this person was his pale skin, as if he were very ill; or dead. Suffice to say, Peter was somewhat intimidated by the man's appearance but there no danger nonetheless. At least this man had a friendly demeanor, so what did Peter have to fear from him?
"Can't be helped I suppose," the man said, approaching Peter and hold his hand out. "My name is Michael Morbius; I'll be replacing Dr. Connors. I assume you're Peter Parker, are you not?"
"I'm not, I mean I am! Peter Parker, that is," Peter fumbled on his own his words. "Wait, did you say your name was Morbius?"
"Yes, I do believe I've mentioned that a time or two." Michael quipped, raising his eyebrows.
"You won the Nobel prize for your theories on genetic restructuring in nocturnal animals." Peter said, ecstatic that he'd finally met the Michael Morbius.
"I see you've done homework on my exploits," Michael said. "Actually, I'm an old friend of Curt Connors. He spoke very highly of you, Parker. That and that you occasionally fell asleep in class."
Peter tried to laugh it off, even though the last part was true. "Well, we all have our off days."
The conversation was interrupted by a faint grunt, and female. Michael and Peter turned toward the entrance of the lab. Standing at the door was very attractive woman with platinum blonde hair flowing down passed her shoulders. For a split second, Peter almost mistook the woman for Gwen Stacy. She appeared very well refined, wearing exquisite clothing and pair of glasses, which usually meant she had a particular standing in society. Michael's smile grew wider at the site of the woman as she entered the lab with a smile on her face.
"Michael, I do hope you aren't harassing this young man."
Michael chuckled. "I wouldn't dream of it. This young man is actually one Curt Connors' former students; Peter Parker. Peter, this is Felicia Hardy, heiress to the Hardy Foundation and the love of my life."
"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Parker." said Felicia as she held out her hand.
Peter accepted the gesture. "The pleasure is mine, Ms. Hardy."
"Please, call me Felicia! I'm not too fond of formalities. Parker; now I know you. You're the Daily Bugle's freelance photographer for the photos of Spider-Man. There're very impressive."
"They are indeed," Michael added. "But I can't help but wonder how you always get those fantastic angles. What's your secret, Parker?"
"Um," Peter stumbled in his search for a decent answer. "A good telephoto lens and a lot of luck, I guess."
"Well, regardless, I think Spider-Man is a fascinating individual," Felicia said. "And he must be rather handsome under that mask."
"I'm in the room, Felicia." Michael pointed out.
"Sorry!"
"Peter, you say that it's simply luck that you're almost always able to get the photos," Michael said. "But somehow, I believe there's more to it than that."
"Michael, it's impolite to pry into someone else's business," Felicia reprimanded Michael, who just shrugged. A faint squeaking sounded and Felicia gazed at the birdcage with the bat. "Did you have to bring that little rodent with you? It's so…creepy!"
Michael sauntered to the cage and picked it up. The bat was hanging upside down and flapping its leathery wings wildly. Peter could to tell the little mammal wanted to get out of the cage and into the world. Michael slowly but mockingly inched the bat toward Felicia, who backed away and shivered at the mere sight of it. As Peter looked on and chuckled, he inwardly hoped that Michael Morbius wasn't making any future plans to mess around with bat DNA. The last he needed was a Dracula type villain running around, sucking the blood out of everybody in the city.
"Get that thing away from me, Michael," Felicia begged, her bluish-green eyes literally bugging out of her face. "You know how much I loathe bats; especially vampires."
"I told you, Felicia," Michael said, laughing. "You've nothing to fear from this little one."
"Vampire bats typically feed on the blood of small, woodland mammals," Peter added. "With respect, Felicia; you've probably seen a few to many monster movies."
Felicia glared strongly at Peter. "Well, with respect to you, Peter; I'm more than aware of the difference between a monster movie and real life. Thank you very much!"
"Alright, that's enough bickering for the time being," Michael said, setting the birdcage back down on the table. "I'm not sure a minor squabble will be good for future relations."
"So tell me, Peter; is there anyone special in your life?" Felicia asked.
"Well, yeah actually," Peter said. "Mary Jane Watson; I actually purposed to her recently, so we'll be wed a month from now."
"That's good news, Peter!" Michael
"Mary Jane Watson," Felicia asked. "She was a Broadway starlet at one time, was she not? I've read the reviews, and while I haven't seen her perform, those reviews didn't do her justice."
Michael walked around to the other side of the table, hands on the table top. "I blame the critics. As far as I'm concerned, they're were just looking for something not to like."
"She was able to get by that little roadblock," Peter said, and then he gazed at his watch. "Oh, I'm sorry but I gotta get back to the Bugle. Mr. Jameson could have my head."
"I do hope to meet Mary Jane in due time, Peter." Felicia said, as Peter hustled out the door.
"Take care, Peter." Michael added.
Peter got outside onto the university campus and gazed at his watch again: 1:49 PM. He had plenty of time to get to the Bugle and chewed up by Jameson for umpteenth time. Then he heard sirens approaching quickly from up the street. Peter watched a burgundy sedan speed passed him, nearly knocking him down. Two NYPD squad car sped passed him, and Peter knew this meant big trouble for any bystanders in the street. Peter headed into an out of the way alley, made sure no one could see him and got into his costume with all haste. Placing his street clothes in a makeshift backpack of webbing, Peter pulled on his mask and scaled up the wall. One web line later, Peter soared over the streets of New York after the cars.
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The burgundy sedan sped down the busy streets with the police cruisers hot on its tailpipe. Three people, two male and one female wearing all black or brown clothing, had a few moderately large bags of money and some firearm. The crook in the backseat bashed the back window out and took aim at the lead car with a shotgun. He opened fired, blasting the left headlight and hood of the car but it kept coming. The driver of the getaway car was getting slightly frustrated with his cohort.
"C'mon, man, take it out! We gotta lose these guys."
The female crook pointed toward the streetlight up ahead. "Watch out for the other cars, man!"
"You wanna drive?" asked the driver.
The driver nonetheless made a sharp right turn at the light, nearly hitting a parked car. The back seat crook got thrown for a loop, missing a shot at the police cruiser. Having righted himself, the crook took a perfect shot at the front left wheel. The tire blew out and the car slowed to a crawl. The other car slammed into the rear of the first, bringing both to a halt. No sooner after the collision, a red and blue streak soared over the cars and after the sedan. The crooks briefly looked into the rearview mirrors to assess the damage, and the driver removed his mask. He was at least in his early 30's, with brown hair and a mustache. The other crook removed their mask, both appearing in their late 20's.
"Yeah, it's smooth sailing from here on out." he said triumphantly.
"I hope we don't do run into Spider-Man." the crook in the back said rather worriedly.
"Don't jinx us, Doug," she warned. "Just please don't jinx us."
Suddenly, the trio felt something land on the roof of the car. The driver looked around for the source and found himself staring into the eyes, so to speak, of Spider-Man. "Clean your windshield, mister?"
The flabbergasted driver began steering wildly in a vain attempt to get rid of Spider-Man. Spider-Man held on thanks to his adhesive powers before his spider-sense went off. The female crook had a revolver in her hand with the barrel pointed straight. She fired into the ceiling, but the web slinger dodged every bullet with seconds to spare. Spider-Man back flipped the trunk of the car, where the third crook spotted him; and screaming like a girl. He tried to aim the shotgun but Spider-Man webbed the barrel shut, grabbed the gun and pulled with the crook. A split second later, the crook was knocked out by a straight punch to the nose. The female crook aimed her gun but Spider-Man webbed it and yanked out of her hand. The web slinger crawled back onto the roof of the sedan. He fired dual web lines onto the hood of the car and pulled as hard as his spider powers would allow. He ended up pulling too hard and yanked the hood off into the air, and Spider-Man went with it. Spider-Man affixed his feet on the airborne hood and fired a web lined onto the car. The hood slammed onto the street and Spider-Man used the hood as a makeshift wakeboard, being pulled along by the sedan.
Why am I getting the sudden feeling of Déjà vu? Spider-Man thought, feeling as if he'd done this kind of thing before.
The driver looked at the rearview mirror and spotted Spider-Man, surfing the car hood of all things. "You gotta be kidding me!"
Spider-Man surfed in between traffic, staying attached to the car as it did the same. The driver became desperate and took to slamming into several parked vehicles. The sedan sped down the street past car both moving and unmoving, while Spider-Man kept up with the sedan. His spider-sense went off and as time slowed, the hero spotted the reason as to why. There was a massive tractor trailer rolling into the intersection parallel to the sedan.
Spider-Man thought, Shi-oot!
Thinking quickly, Spider-Man snagged a streetlight and catapulted himself skyward. He soared through the air before landing onto the front of the sedan and gummed up the engine with a huge mound of webbing. The engine eventually sputtered and died right there. The sedan was slowing to a snails' pace but it was still closing in on the trailer. Spider-Man clung to the grill of the car and shot duel lines in each direction, snagging building on either side. The sedan slowed even further until it finally came to a halt, with Spider-Man's chest inches from the trailer. Spider-Man let go of the lines and turned to the three crooks in the car, while new police cruisers approached. Spider-Man pulled out the driver side door and pulled on the driver.
"Don't worry, guys," he quipped. "I'm sure the cops will have plenty of room in jail for you."
The driver laughed. "It don't matter, cause the Big Man's gonna bail us out and then you're screwed."
"The who-what-now," Spider-Man asked, hearing the sirens getting closer. "If you know what's good for you, you'll me about this Big Man."
"If you want the Big Man, you should go find him yourself," the driver said in defiance. "I'd rather rot in jail then rat out the guy that signed my paycheck."
"Suit yourself!"
By the time the NYPD arrived on the scene, the trio of crooks was all tied together in a web net and hanging from a streetlight. The stolen money bags were laid out below the crooks. Among the cops, Jean DeWolff approach to assess the situation and her jaw dropped when she saw the trio strung up like a three piece piñata. Spider-Man was long gone; DeWolff so wanted catch him and missed her chance. She noticed a small piece of folded paper and opened. It read: Courtesy of your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man!
DeWolff was clearly irked by the perceived arrogance shown by Spider-Man as she glared at the crooks. "Cut them down. Take them to the precinct."
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Spider-Man was crouched atop the edge of a building high above the streets, watching the commotion that transpired. He wasn't really thinking about that at the moment. Who was this Big Man the crooks were talking about? Peter removed his mask and brushed his hair in confusion, remembering the villains that came and went. What, were these whack-a-dos running out of decent names? Things were getting stranger with each passing moment and judging by Peter's past experiences, it was going to worse long before it got better. Peter would bet his webbing on it!
Author's note: I really, REALLY hate writer's block. Okay, here's the deal; I'm not putting up any more chapters until I get some reviews. So, send in the clowns! No wait, that don't make any sense; and I hate clowns.
