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Chapter VII
Riker's Island Maximum Security Prison was home to some New York's worst criminals, many of whom were put there by Spider-Man. Everyone from common crooks and car thieves, to the various super criminals Spider-Man had battled over the years were brought to Riker's Island to live out their lives behind bars. Those bars weren't for every villain that crossed paths with Spider-Man. There was also the Vault, a super max wing deep within Riker's that housed some of the strongest and most cunning and brutal super criminals. Super villains like Morris Bench, AKA Hydro-Man, Aleksei Sytsevich, AKA Rhino and even Otto Octavius, AKA Doctor Octopus were placed in the Vault and kept in there using the most up-to-date, cutting edge tech to prevent escape. They were usually kept in solitary confinement, only interacting with any guards unlucky enough to have to bring them their three meals a day.
On the upper floor of Riker's, most of the prisoners were free to go about the business as they so pleased – as long as they didn't try to escape. Some formed groups while others remained solitary. There were some though, like Adrian Toomes, AKA the Vulture, who spent their time plotting their escape. His ultimate goal once he'd escaped; revenge against both Norman Osborn and Spider-Man. After all, what was there to do in Riker's Island other than plot a daring escape?
Adrian Toomes was in the process of engineering his escape under the guise of a simple, seeming innocent run during shop class. Using the limited items at his disposal, mainly a box full of scrap and a shear bolt, Toomes secretly constructed a small, unassuming device that could open his cell and allow him to escape. Then, he'd have to retrieve his electromagnetic flight harness which was confiscated by the guards upon his incarceration. As he was putting the finishing touches on his device, an inmate Toomes only knew as Lefty Donovan attempted to sneak up on him. Unscrupulous and rude with an unkempt beard, Lefty had nothing against Toomes except for the fact that Toomes was smarter than him.
"Don't waste your time, Lefty." Toomes said.
Lefty cursed under his breath at being discovered again for what had to be the fifth time that week. "Crap, how do you always know it me, Toomes?"
"I might be an old man but I'm not senile, nor am I stupid. This old dog can still learn some new tricks." Toomes said as Lefty sat down next to him.
"Right, I guess it's no wonder why Silvermane took a likely to you." Lefty said.
Toomes knew that Lefty worked for Silvio Manfredi, but he himself was no friend of that old codger. "Yet here I am, rotting away in prison while he rots away on his deathbed. Who gets the win in that exchange?"
Lefty shrugged the rhetorical question and looked at his old cellmate's invention. Obviously, Toomes was much smarter than Lefty and that was by leaps and bounds. Lefty didn't know the first thing about the sort of tech the Toomes used to design back when he was just an aeronautical engineer working for OsCorp a couple of years ago. He did know the Toomes became the Vulture after his designs were stolen from him, allegedly by Norman Osborn, and that Toomes had carried a grudge ever since. Toomes had insisted that he'd have put Osborn down if Spider-Man hadn't gotten involved in his business. Lefty grew a bit more curious about Toomes' invention and unknowingly drew himself a little too close to Toomes' personal space.
Toomes stopped what he was doing and without glancing at Lefty, he said, "You're in my light, Donovan."
"Jesus, Toomes! You don't have to be so paranoid about everything," Lefty said, to which Toomes didn't reply. "What the hell is this thing you're making anyway?"
Toomes stopped, picked up the unassuming device and held it in front of him. Without looking at Lefty again, he claimed, "This - thing here - is my ticket out of Riker's. Once I've retrieved my harness, I'll be long gone and I'll be sinking my talons into Norman Osborn's spine. And then I'll rip it out."
"Damn, you really hate Osborn, don't you?" Lefty said.
Before Toomes could reply, a loud and heavy buzzer sounded throughout the shop room and a few Riker's Island guards entered. One of them, a tall angry man, stepped forward and he bellowed, "Alright, you lowlife scumbags. Get your asses to the mess hall for your second meal of the deal. Not that any of you deserve it."
It didn't take too long for most of the inmates to do as they were told to do, Lefty Donovan included among them. But Toomes was still at his table dabbling with his device, and he was just putting the finishing touches on it. Lefty came back to nudge Toomes into moving but the old man pushed him away. One of the guards approached and forcefully pushed Lefty toward the exit. Then that same guard approached Toomes. Instinctively, Toomes stuffed the still slightly unfinished device into a pocket on his orange jumpsuit, along with a single tool and then he rose up from his seat. The head guard leered at Toomes with coldness in his beady eyes. Toomes stopped and leered back, and the guard motioned him along.
A third guard was present but something was off about him, not that any of the other guards noticed anything amiss. Toomes knew from the beginning that this particular guard wasn't a guard. The guard gave Toomes gave a miniscule nod Toomes which returned in kind. He then whispered something in Russian before Toomes went on his way. The day was going without a hitch thus far. All Toomes had to do was wait until nightfall to finish his device. Then if all went well from there, Toomes could just waltz into the confiscated goods room, retrieve his harness and be airborne. It paid to have some inside help sometimes, especially if that help came from a master of disguise like Dmitri Smerdyakov.
Peter had a lot to think about while he was overlooking Manhattan from one the stone gargoyles of the Chrysler Building, not the least of which was Gwen. Given his historically laughable grasp of ultimatums, and he'd dealt with a lot of them, it was easy to recognize that he was conflicted about it. This was why Peter kept vigil over the city where he was at the moment all in full costume except for his mask. It allowed him to clear his head while maintaining a watchful eye and ear on things in the city. And he got fantastic reception on his iPhone. That most definitely worked to Peter's advantage when he pulled it out and hit the speed dial on it, and for the sake of it, he set it to speaker so he could hear better.
After a couple of rings on the other end of the call, a female voice answered, "Hello, May Parker speaking…"
"Hey, Aunt May. How're you doing?" Peter answered.
"Hi honey. I'm doing alright; keeping busy nowadays," Aunt May replied from the other line. "What about you; you staying out of trouble?"
Peter smiled a bit at the question. "More or less…" he said.
"Something's got you bugged, Peter. What's wrong; you can tell me."
Peter wasn't surprised that Aunt May was asking; she always seemed to have this little sixth sense about things. "It's Gwen, Aunt May. She told me that there's a chance she might leave for London to study at Oxford. She wants me to go with her."
"I'm getting the sense that you're conflicted about it. I don't know why though," Aunt May replied. "You and Gwen have been dating for the past two years, so it'd make sense that you both go to London."
"You're right; it would make sense. And you're right that I am kind of torn right now. I grew up in Queens with you and Uncle Ben raising me like I was your own son. This city is my home and when Uncle Ben died, I promised that I wouldn't abandon my responsibilities. School and work and you, Harry and MJ," Peter listed while Aunt May listened intently over the phone. He added, "I don't want to let him down, but I don't want to lose Gwen. I don't know what to do."
There was a silence between the line for a long moment, which meant to Peter that Aunt May was contemplating what to tell her nephew. Eventually, Aunt May replied, "I can't act as your moral compass on this kind of thing, Peter. That was Ben's department."
"When have you ever not been my moral compass?"
"Fair enough, but I think if Ben were still with us, he'd tell you that sometimes, a man has to follow what he knows in his heart is right," Aunt May explained, while Peter considered her words. "Honestly Peter, this is really a decision that only you can make."
"I guess," Peter replied right at the moment that he caught the familiar sound of a blaring alarm from down below. "Look, I've got to go, Aunt May. I talk to you later. Bye!"
As soon as Peter finished his call, he quickly patched in to the latest police report through his phone and listened in. "Any available units, report to a deadlock on West 19th Street in the Flatiron District. At least ten hostiles accounted for and should be considered armed and dangerous. Repeat; deadlock on West 19th in Flatiron District. Any available units please respond."
"Well, Peter mused before putting on his mask. "It's back to work."
With a mighty bound off the gargoyle of the Chrysler Building, Spider-Man entered a freefalling swan dive all the way toward the lower standing buildings of the city. The second he was within reach of a building on his right side ahead of him, Spider-Man let a web line loose. The second the line was taut, Spider-Man was sent swinging across the skyline at breakneck speed. He streaked above the busy New York streets in full view of any passerby who'd stopped to catch a glimpse of him. At the peak of his sudden upward climb, Spider-Man fired another web line, swung down and up again in an arc and let the line. For added effect, and because it was fun, Spider-Man shot two lines from each hand and catapulted himself forward in a flash.
At this rate, he'd be at the Flatiron District in no time all.
Dr. Barton Hamilton took his career as a psychologist very seriously, especially when he was dealing with Norman Osborn. Both of them sat in main living area where Norman kept his mask collection. Dr. Hamilton would've preferred to handle the session in his office, but Norman refused. He'd cited a certain comfort in the presence of the collection of masks and some degree of control over the situation. Dr. Hamilton had to deal with it, which he did. It was time to get the session underway.
"So, Norman, how've you been doing lately?" the psychologist asked.
Norman glared at Dr. Hamilton, even balking at the question itself. "Really, doctor? I've been scrutinized by the public for alleged past dealings, been in reclusive for months and very nearly assassinated by a maniac in costume. How do you think I'm doing?"
"I don't mean to aggravate you in any way, Norman. I just want to see what I can do to help you, given the recent series of tribulations." Hamilton replied while he kept a reasonable tone in his voice.
"It's not your ignorance that aggravates me, Hamilton. It's everything else."
"Would you care to elaborate?"
"If it gets you out of my home more quickly," Norman snapped. With a slight flick of his nose and a dismissive glance, Norman explained, "Even since that fiasco with Spencer Smythe and his so-called Spider-Slayer robots, the public has seen fit to vilify. Jameson and his newspaper did so little to stem the tide of negative press on me and my company…"
When Norman began to trail off of his rant, Dr. Hamilton interjected, "I've done a bit of research on the Spider-Slayers. From what I've learned, Spencer Smythe died during one such incident and his son Alistair was left paraplegic. Alistair himself left the country soon after that."
"Good; the last thing I need is to deal with a cripple."
"That seems a little harsh, Norman."
"The Spider-Slayer program almost ruined me. I'd have been left with nothing thanks to Spencer Smythe," Norman snapped, gripping the edges of his chair's arms. "As for his son, well, he's as much a failure as my own."
Dr. Hamilton nodded ever so slightly knowing the subject of Harry would come around soon enough. "Our last session ended with talk about Harry. Maybe we can continue from where we left off…"
Chaos had erupted in the Flatiron District on West 19th Street. A deadlock of numerous vehicles was spread as far as a block. The NYPD was in the midst of a shootout with a small band of criminals. The criminals were using automatic firearms and other such ordnance, much of which was likely stolen. What was known so far was all based on their appearance. They were bizarre masks with one side color white and the other side black, appearing somewhat similar to the negative of a photograph. This feature, and their use of the stolen armaments against the police, suggested they worked a mysterious criminal known to the public as Mr. Negative. But that was all that was known; the identity of Mr. Negative was not known.
Near the chaotic scene and up West 19th, Whitney Chang had as clear a view as any on-site reporter could have without being in the thick of things. Yet, she and he crew were still dangerously close to it site – just the way Whitney liked it.
"It's an unbelievable scene on West 19th Street in the Flatiron District where the New York Police Department is involved in a heavy shootout against supposed members of a crime syndicate headed by the crime lord Mr. Negative," Whitney reported in spite of the heavy gunfire and small explosions. Then a lone grenade landed right in between her and the cameraman. "Oh crap! Duck and cover!"
While her crew ran for cover, Whitney had nowhere to go and fell backward. Before the grenade could blow, it was quickly snatched off the street by a web line and catapulted into the air. Sailing across the sky, it detonated above the deadlock and sent bits of fire and shrapnel every which way. The cops and the criminals ducked for cover to avoid being pelted by debris while at the same time, Whitney and her team recovered. After a few minutes of silence, the shootout erupted again with the criminals taking the advantage. Then Whitney looked up at a sudden red and blue streak jolting across the sky above the street and into the thick of the shootout.
"Are we finished with this little cross-examination, Hamilton?" Norman impatiently asked after he'd spoken of his disappointment in Harry to Dr. Hamilton.
"Almost, Norman. We've covered your apparent disdain for your son Harry, citing the death of your wife at childbirth followed by Harry being sent abroad to boarding school," Dr. Hamilton stated while remaining calm. "Now I'd like to bring up the past rumors of illegal dealings between OsCorp and the various supposed crime lords of the underworld."
"I've been approached by the NYPD and the FBI and the CIA and even by SHIELD about the likes of Kingpin, Silvermane, Owl and Mr. Negative. I've answered their incessant questions over and over until my gums began to bleed. Hell, I've even been accused of selling chemical weapons to Victor Von Doom," Norman ranted in a highly irate tone. "But herein lays a collective dilemma shared by all the naysayers."
"Which is…?"
Norman leaned forward so he was staring directly at Dr. Hamilton, and he whispered, "They have nothing on me."
The first three criminals to face Spider-Man when he bounded toward them were quickly and effortlessly dispatched. The next two criminals drew their automatic rifles to bear on Spider-Man was he swung up and above them. From midair, Spider-Man cut loose with an onslaught of webbing. The webbing embedded the feet of the two hapless thugs while it also jammed the barrels of their guns. As they tried to get loose, Spider-Man landed before them and ran straight at them. He snagged one of the rifles from one of the thugs, spun it around his head and sent it crashing into the face of the same thug.
The other thug managed to get the webbing free of the barrel of his gun and opened fire on Spider-Man, who leaped up into the air. The thug kept the hero in his sights and fired on him, while Spider-Man literally twirled in midair to avoid the shots. It seemed like slow motion, with every bullet zipping passed Spider-Man without even coming close to him. That didn't stop the criminal from firing on Spider-Man – at least not until the magazine ran dry. The thug frantically tried to reload when Spider-Man landed right in front of him.
Desperately, the thug took a swing at Spider-Man with his rifle. Spider-Man listed to the side, snagged the gun with a line and sent it flying straight up. Then he crisscrossed the thug's arm with web before shutting him up with webbing to his mouth. The coup de grace came when the gun fell back down to Earth and hit the thug in the head, knocking him out. The last five criminals refocused their assault on Spider-Man right as he was airborne again. Spider-Man leapt from the wall of a brick building to a heavily, bullet-ridden vehicle to the street and finally in between the five criminals.
Being in between five heavily armed criminals in dual colored masks should've seemed like a death wish for anyone – even if they were Spider-Man. But the constant shooting and had drained the rifles of their bite. Spider-Man took advantage by tripping all five of them in one move with a low spinning kick to their feet. He then back flipped up and planted his feet into the chest of one thug. Two of the other criminals got back out and tried to surround Spider-Man, but the web slinger simply jumped and kicked them in their faces. The last two were pulled forward with web lines and sent faced first into each other.
Spider-Man landed amid the fallen thugs and quickly webbed them to the street so they wouldn't get back up any time soon. Then his spider-sense went off and a moment later, a burly looking thug appeared and approached Spider-Man. He wore the same duel-colored mask as his compatriots did, but he was also huge enough to blot out the Sun. He also carried a mini gun in one of his large hands. Those things were lightweight, so it amazed Spider-Man that this guy could carry it at all. He just loomed over Spider-Man like Godzilla loomed over a fallen building.
"You're big, but I've fought bigger."
Dr. Hamilton was starting to think he wasn't getting anywhere with Norman, so he decided on one final question before calling it a day. "Okay, there's one last thing I'd like to discuss before we conclude."
"I don't see the point of why you feel the need to pick my brain anymore, Hamilton. I've told everything I was willing to tell," Norman spat out. "I assume you can see yourself out; I have things to do."
"Norman, I just want to be able to understand you better than most do." Hamilton persisted, but Norman wasn't hearing it.
He rose up out of his seat like an erupting volcano. "I don't need you or Harry or anyone else trying to understand me or what I've done or what I will do. Now, get the hell out of my house."
Dr. Hamilton looked into Norman's eyes and saw something very different. There was an odd feeling of dread within Norman, like he was trying to hide something from Dr. Hamilton and everyone else, Harry included. Norman did a hell of a job masking his unspoken, unsung feeling behind the face of an arrogance and pompous industrialist. Dr. Hamilton felt the need to dig a little deeper into Norman's psyche but that would likely exasperate the situation further than was needed. So he played it by ear and honored Norman's demand, gathering his belongings and started onward toward the doors leading out of the living area. Norman glared at Dr. Hamilton's back and watched him disappear beyond the before he collapse back into his chair. Norman rubbed the bridge of nose in frustration and cursed under his breath. Then he heard that faint cackle.
Spider-Man played Keep Away with the brute while he was taking shot with his mini-gun, using every ounce of his agility to avoid being riddled with bullets. And there was also the added pressure of ensuring that none of the police, the news crews or any innocent bystanders were caught in the crossfire. Luckily, the brutal thug was dumber than he appeared, focusing solely on Spider-Man. Spider-Man bounded and leapt around and over the thug and in the process, made him expend the ammunition of his mini-gun. A monster firearm like that more ammo than most guns short of a stationary weapon and it was heavy, making Spider-Man's efforts to avoid being shot that much easier.
Within several minutes of hopping and skipping and jumping and bounding, the mini-gun finally ceased fire. The brute still had his finger on the trigger when Spider-Man landed in front of him. With a flick of his hand, Spider-Man invited the brute to him. The brute dropping the weapon and charged ala Rhino or Juggernaut – just as Spider-Man intended. Spider-Man shot the brute blind with a glob of webbing to the eyes and leaped over the brute as he charged and completely missed his target. Landing behind the still staggering goon, Spider-Man webbed his big legs and pulled hard on the line, dropping the brute to the street.
"Oh yeah, I got me a BIG ONE," he shouted in triumph. The brute ripped the webbing from his face, leering furiously at Spider-Man who was taunting him. "Come on, big fella. I'll give you this for free."
The brute growled and stomped the ground like a sumo wrestler before he bull-rushed Spider-Man. Spider-Man just stood where he was and waited for the oncoming freight train-like charge of his foe. Then at the last second, Spider-Man jumped and over the brute and landed behind him. The brute couldn't halt his moment in time before he crashed head first into the wall. That impact was more than enough to bring the brute down and lay him out on the street where Spider-Man webbed him in place.
"I'd have thought you'd see the coming, big guy. Even Rhino is smarter than that," Spider-Man said, and then he added, "Okay, maybe not."
With the area secure and the police approaching cautiously, Spider-Man leaped into the sky and swung away just as Whitney Chang rushed in to get a word with him. "Damn, he's fast. I'll get that interview yet."
Norman grabbed a shot glass from the table, poured bourbon liquor into the glass and took it down his throat. The bittersweet taste tingled on his tongue but quickly dissipated, as did the presence of Dr. Hamilton from his mind. His next instinct was to take another swig of the liquor, maybe even the entire bottle. The best and worst case scenario was that he'd collapse and not wake up onto the next day. More importantly, he muffled that wicked cackle in the back of his mind. Just to be on the safe side, Norman took another swig of liquor. When he was halfway to finishing his second glass, the cackling returned. Norman dropped the glass to the floor where it shattered on impact.
"Where are you? Show yourself." Norman demanded, but there was no answer. Norman breathed lightly before…
"Are you still trying to forget what you are, Osborn?"
"I told you before to leave me alone." Norman shouted, spinning in a circle in search of the bodiless voice.
"And I told you that you are alone. All you have is me and sooner or later, I'm going to get out. And when I do, we will reap a just revenge against everyone who's threatened us – including Spider-Man."
And the voice cackled loudly, driving Norman to cover his ears to dull the sound. It wasn't doing him much good.
The klaxon at Riker's Island sounded, bringing the prison into high alert. The chief guard was up on the catwalk where he bellowed, "Lockdown the facility and make sure all inmates are in their cells."
"Sir," a lower tiered guard called from a level below. "Adrian Toomes is unaccounted for and his cellmate is down and out."
"Check the confiscated good locker. Do not let Toomes escape with the flight harness."
The lower tiered guard nodded and headed in the direction of the confiscated goods locker. Nobody noticed the sly smile on his face and nobody would've suspected that it was the Chameleon in disguise. He'd allowed Toomes to reach the locker and retrieve his flight harness after Toomes used his device to get out of his cell. It wasn't before he knocked out Lefty Donovan to keep him from trying to escape himself. Chameleon had a deal with Toomes to help escape. All that was left was to escape and collect his payment.
Upon reaching the exit, Chameleon headed for the shoreline where Toomes was getting his gear into a waiting escape boat. Entering the boat, Chameleon removed the mask he wore to reveal the pale white and featureless visage that was his trademark. He helped Toomes get his gear into the boat before Toomes started the engine, right when the sound of barking guard dogs came about. Hitting the gas, Chameleon set the boat speeding away across the water, and it was too late for the Riker guards to stop them.
Turning his face around briefly, Chameleon shouted in a Russian accent, "Do svidaniya, you American pigs!"
"Watch your mouth, Chameleon." Toomes said in defense of his birth country.
"Of course, Toomes," Chameleon replied with a sneer. "I will watch my words as long as I get paid."
"You will be, just as long as Osborn dies."
Author note: Good grief, I didn't think this chapter would be so long. I also didn't originally plan for Chameleon to appear but lo and behold, there he is helping Adrian Toomes. Vulture was always in my plans to appear. Lefty Donovan (second Hobgoblin) also appears. I also made mention of Hydro-Man, Rhino and Doc Ock.
The big highlight was shifting scenes featuring Spider-Man and Norman Osborn, both events happening simultaneously and Aunt May makes a voice cameo… I guess. I don't know.
Please, for the love of God, review.
