Norman Osborn's Journal Day 4

As brilliant a mind as I am, even I could not meet Tombstone's demands alone. I needed subordinates intelligent enough to understand both the scientist involved and the need for discretion. Otto Octavius was one such scientist. He had won his position at Oscorp with his mentally-controlled metal arms, which he used to handle the hazardous materials needed to turn the petty crooks Hammerhead provided into the Sandman and the Rhino. It was a highly profitable endeavor which the fool Octavius then proceeded to ruin.

After the Rhino's arrest, I advised that the operation be temporarily suspended before we drew too much unwanted attention. Tombstone and Hammerhead...disagreed. Worse still, Tombstone chose to threaten my family if I refused to cooperate. Big mistake. My Globulin Green was completed and I was ready to unseat the good Mr. Lincoln and become the new Big Man of Crime. But Octavius had gotten scared of what we were doing, and he was considering the merits of alerting the authorities. I could not abide such weakness in my organization, so I moved to dispose of him. Unfortunately, the Spider-man's untimely intervention saved his life and served to create a rival crime lord, if he could even be called such, known as Doctor Octopus.


It only took me two minutes to get to Luigi's by web. It sure beat taking the thirty minute subway ride, and web-slinging had the added bonus of avoiding those terrible subway musicians. I found Foswell waiting for me outside the dry cleaners across the street from the upscale restaurant. He was wearing his "Patch" disguise, which was literally just some shabby clothing, a fake straw-colored beard that matched his hair, and an eyepatch. The persona looked totally meek and unremarkable, which helped him use it to repeatedly infiltrate the various gangs run by Silvermane and Tombstone.

"Peter," he greeted me when I approached him in civilian clothes a minute later. "Good to see you made it here so quickly."

I shook Foswell's hand. "A chance to work with you again, Mr. Foswell?" I said flatteringly. "Nothing could keep me away."

Foswell gave a nervous laugh and handed me a manilla folder. "This has everything I know about the case so far," he explained. Inside the folder were different dossiers on the victims, a brief summary on some of the murders, and a few photos of crime scenes and the skull calling card. "All of the victims worked for Silvermane, or more accurately, his daughter Sable. Cause of death varies from person to person, but they've all been killed within a ten block radius of the restaurant. And, of course, that same calling card was left by each of the bodies."

I studied the photo of the card closely. There was no doubt about it. The white skull on the black background was identical to the one on Skully's shirt. "Gruesome," I commented. "Any idea who's behind it?"

Foswell sighed and shook his head. "That's the mystery. All the likely candidates: Tombstone, Master Planner, the Goblin, they're all either incarcerated, under surveillance, or dead." He pulled at his fake beard nervously, looking utterly ridiculous. "There are rumors of a new crime lord called the Kingpin, but it's just as possible that this is all the result of some internal power struggle."

"Or a vigilante..." I muttered, remembering what Skully said about "punishing those who prey on the innocent." But I beat him, the cops took him away. Did he break out of Ryker's during the riot? Was he ever sentenced there to begin with?

"Okay, here's the plan," Foswell said, clapping his hands together and pulling me out of my reverie. "Sable Manfredi practically lives in this restaurant, and she's been frantically trying to stop our assassin for the past week. She's been having meetings with her men almost daily, and I've managed to call in a few favors and get a job as a waiter. That way I can eavesdrop on her and see if she knows anything. I need you to get inside somehow and get some pictures."

"You're joking, right?" I asked sarcastically. "How am I supposed to pull that off? I don't want to get whacked."

Foswell grimaced. "I see." He sounded disappointed. "I thought that with the fight for the Rhino specs that you were resourceful and could handle the danger, but if you don't feel comfortable..."

"Relax, Mr. Foswell," I said quickly. "I was kidding. I can handle it."


Mary Jane never felt nervous about auditions. It was strange to admit, but she felt infinitely more comfortable on stage in front of a large audience than she ever did in normal, everyday life. She hated ordinary interactions with people, terrified of how they would react whenever she said anything. Real life was unscripted, unrehearsed, unpredictable! The cast was too large and the direction was nonexistent. There were no intermissions, no understudies, no wings or backstage. Compared to that unbridled terror and chaos, an audition was easy. So, no, she wasn't nervous about the community theater audition for A Doll's House. No, it was what was coming after the audition that made her nervous. She had a date tonight with Peter.

It wasn't really a date. They were just meeting for coffee and then seeing a movie together. They had done that before tons of times. That's what friends do. Going to the Fall Formal together, that was a date, but they were just having fun and nothing had come of it. She never had any romantic interest in Peter, or in anybody for that matter. She just knew he needed a break and she wanted to help him relieve some stress. In a completely platonic way, of course.


For a restaurant, Luigi's was surprisingly well-guarded. The doors, the windows, and the tables were closely watched by Silvermane's disguised men. Few people knew about Silvermane's connection to Luigi's, and Sable probably wanted to keep it that way. The best approach, I decided, was to just go in as a customer and use the miniature camera I built to get some photos. Unfortunately, the restaurant was busy and I needed a reservation if I wanted to eat there. Well, fine. It's not like I wanted to eat some expensively delicious cuisine. I'd rather be crawling through the air vents anyway.

You know what nobody tells you about air vents? They're small. And cramped. And hot. And perfectly built to make photography impossible. I was practically swimming in sweat as I silently exited the vent in the kitchen ceiling and crawled after the waiter who was currently exiting the kitchen. The dining room was ridiculously fancy. The ornate chandelier dominating the center of the ceiling, the string quartet plaing in the corner of the room, and the formal attire everybody was wearing reminded me of Tombstone's ballroom, where I first encountered Gobby. Aaand now I'm thinking about the Goblin's death again. Swell.

I set my camera on auto-shoot and webbed it to a hidden spot in the corner of the ceiling. I knew better than to hide it in the chandelier – those things tend to break whenever I'm around – and I had a feeling that if I tried to get any closer to Sable's table in the center of the room that I would be noticed. I couldn't rely on rich people's sycophantic conversations to stop any wandering eyes, and I quickly slipped back into the vent to avoid being spotted. Now I play the waiting game.


The man was big and muscular, with black skin and no hair. He wore a pair of fake spectacles over his stoic black eyes, and his suit was shabby and second hand and didn't fit him quite right, something that he couldn't hide by having it cleaned and pressed no matter how hard he tried. The woman was small and slender, with pale skin and long blonde hair. Her blue eyes sparkled with her expensive jewelry, and her flowing white dress was brand new and fit ther perfectly, subtly accentuating the wonderful curves of her body. She had offered to buy the man a new suit, but he had refused, insisting that he wore his father's old suit.

They made a strange pair, this poor but physically imposing man and his wealthy, diminutive comparison. Nobody commented on it though. People always assumed they were a couple, and that opposites attract and all that. Neither of them bothered to correct those people. Couples were easy to ignore, and this dinner date put them in a good position for their mission.

"What do you think?" the man asked, pretending to read the menu.

"I'm thinking minestrone to start, then some veal, and I'm still deciding on dessert," the woman answered idly. She sounded bored.

"N-not that Tandy," the man stuttered angrily. "The l-layout!"

Tandy giggled and galnced over her companion's shoulder. "Three guards by the front door," she reported in the bored tone of voice one would use to describe the weather. "Two more by the restrooms. One at the kitchen door. All armed with concealed handguns."

"Six men," the man said thoughtfully. "We can take six men if we have to."

"More than six," Tandy corrected. "You forgot to count Sable herself. Plus the men she's going to meet, some guys in the kitchen, and some guys watching the perimeter. In total, probably about twenty hostiles."

The man grimaced. "Let's hope it d-doesn't come to that."

Tandy gave him a reassuring smile and touched his hand gently. "Relax, Ty. It's not going to come to that. This is just a recon mission. We follow Sable and get her alone, then we move in. Just a simple snatch and grab, we've done this before. Now, what are you gonna order?"


Well, it's official. The waiting game sucks! I've been in this vent for almost half an hour, and, I swear, a literal lake of sweat is forming in some unmentionable areas of my Spidey suit. And the smell of all that food is driving me nuts! I guess it wouldn't have been so bad if I was learning something, but I was so far away from Sable's table that all I could do was watch Sable eat and talk to men I couldn't even see. I had a better view of the tables that didn't matter: a family of four, a large angry looking diner, an interracial couple...but I couldn't see Sable well enough to try reading her lips through the grate.

My impatience soon got the better of me, and I decided to grab my camera and get the hell out of there. I'd already gotten about a roll and a half of film of this boring meeting anyway, that should be enough material for Mr. Foswell. I squirmed out of the vent as silently as possible and moved toward the camera. I almost made it when something changed. The men Sable was meeting were on their way out the door and Sable was walking toward the restroom. As she walked past the lone angry diner, he moved quickly and grabbed her around the neck, pulling a pistol out of his back pocket. Diners screamed and at least ten men pulled out their own handguns and pointed them when the gunman shouted, "Shoot and she dies!"

It was Skully. I was sure of it. The other diners and employees screamed and headed for the exit as more men – these ones armed with machine guns – burst into the room from the kitchen and the outside. They too pointed guns at Skully when Sable shouted, "Hold your fire, you fools!" She glanced over her shoulder and asked Skully, "Are you the one killing my men?"

I resisted the urge to drop from the ceiling and save the day. The room was too tense, and I needed to wait for everybody to evacuate before moving in. Skully wasn't moving to stop the civilians from leaving, and athe others were too focused on him to care. Skully didn't answer Sable's question, and just pressed the barrel of his pistol against her temple. To her credit, Sable didn't flinch. She just asked him, "Who put you up to it? Tombstone? Master Planner? How much did they pay you? How much did it cost for you to throw your life away?" He remained silent as always. I forgot how eerily quiet he is. He was backed up against the wall, with twenty or so armed men surrounding him in a semicircle. How on earth did he plan to get out of this?

Almost in answer to my nonverbal question, a black armored van crashed through the wall. The top of the van opened and a mounted machine gun turret appeared and opened fire on the mobsters. The mobsters scattered and dove behind tables, opening fire on the others as Skully moved pulling Sable back toward the van. Nice try, buddy, but you're not getting away from me. I fired a spiderweb behind him and he back into it, blocked from the safety of the van. He glanced behind him in confusion and Sable kicked him in the shin and elbowed his face. Skully stumbled and Sable slipped out of his grip, kicking the pistol out of his hand. Skully ripped himself free from the web and drew his knife, engaging Sable.

I, meanwhile, was more distracted by the turret giving suppressing fire. Staying to the ceiling I tried to shoot webs into its barrel, but it kept moving and I kept missing. The mobsters noticed the webs I was shooting and had the bright idea to try to shoot me instead of neutralizing the more dangerous turret. I scrambled to dodge the bullets as one of them shouted, "Shoot the spider!"

"Shoot the spider?" I repeated, dropping behind an overturned table. "Is that like shooting the moon? I had no idea you guys liked to play cards! I myself have a terrible poker face." I flipped and somersaulted to another nearby table and knocked out the mobster sitting there.

My spider sense blared like crazy, and I realized my mistake. I overextended my leap, and now I was wide open. I dropped low to the ground and rolled away from the turret. I hid behind the maitre d's podium and shouted, "I'm sorry, Skully, do you have a reservation? If not, there's a twenty year wait at the big house!" I peeked around the podium and surveyed the situation. Sable and Skully were still trying to kill each other near the van. Then there were twenty – nineteen now, I reminded myself – armed men and a machine gun turret with apparently an unlimited amount of bullets between me and them. All the civilians were safely out of the dining room, either having fled into the kitchen or out the front door. I shot a web at the ceiling and got ready to move. I'd say my odds of living are only...about a million to one. Wonderful.


Frank's mind is completely focused during a fight. Duck Sable's kick. Thrust knife at her stomach. She backflips. Good. Frank has a reach advantage. Use it. Might offset her speed advantage. Slash at throat. Missed. Sable draws knife from sheath strapped to her leg. Interesting.

Sable's thrusts are fast, but uncoordinated. Awkward. She's a better fighter unarmed. Easily dodge and parry. Knife flies out of her hand. Concern flashes over her face. She steps back and trips over one of Spider-man's webs. Lands on her back. Advance. Avoid the web. Prepare to kill.

Pain in left arm. Frank stumbles and looks. Some sort of glowing dagger embedded in his arm. Look up. Woman in skintight white leotard standing next to battle van holding another glowing dagger. She wasn't there before. "I'm afraid I can't let you kill the mafia princess, pal," she says confidently. So she threw the dagger. "We need her. Now run along before you hurt yourself, okay?" Narrow eyes. Member of Sable's gang? No, she's surprised to see the newcomer as well. Assassin from rival gang? No, she wants Sable alive. Might still be from rival gang, kidnapping for ransom. Or law enforcement. "Not gonna cooperate?" woman says. "Okay, then. Ty? If you would, darling?"

Ty? Accomplice! Whirl around. Large, black man with long, dark cloak over his body. Ready knife. "S-s-sorry about this," he says expressionlessly. Bend knees. Wait for him to make first move.


And that makes twenty men down. All that's left is Sable and Skully...aaand two other people now. Great. Sable's jumping to her feet and fighting a woman who's throwing bright, glowing daggers at her. Is she just pulling those things out of thin air? That's cool! And possibly deadly. And Skully's facing off against a big guy in a wizard costume! It's like a comic book come to life! At least the turret's finally out of ammo. Time to stop this madness.

Are the headlights on the van moving? Are those more guns? You've gotta be kidding me. Jump, flip, roll! "Skully, I gotta ask you, where did you get this van?" I shouted, swinging around the room and moving toward the fighting women. "It's a Chrysler, right? I mean, only American engineering can make something so insanely deadly, am I right?" I landed on the windshield of the van, and webbed up the barrels of the two guns as the dagger lady shouted, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh, that's right," I said jumping between the ladies and throwing a punch at the dagger lady, "the headlight guns are textbook Volkswagen. What was I thinking?" Spider sense, duck Sable's punch. I grabbed her arm and flip her over my shoulder, webbing her to the ground. "Geez, this is so embarrassing! I guess I've been exposed as a phony car expert, after all."

Whoa! She really is just conjuring those daggers out of thin air! That's awesome! Good thing I dodged that one. "You can't be serious," she said, disgusted, making two more light daggers.

"I'm completely serious," I joked, shooting a web at her. She spun to the side and cut it. "I've been trying to sell Chryslers for years and I just don't have the know-how to make my sales pitch authentic. The dealership just laid me off last week, and now I rely on crime fighting to make ends meet."

"Do you think you're funny?" she asked angrily, lunging at me.

"Uhhh...yes?" I backpedaled, but one of the daggers left a shallow cut across my chest. "Hey, not cool! My tailor's gonna be furious when he sees this! Ask Skully over there, we see the same guy, and he is not someone you want to get angry. Right Skully?" I looked over my shoulder. Skully and the big guy were gone. Even the van was driving away. "Skully? Skuuully? Where'd you go, Skully?" I called out. "Don't be bashful, now."

I turned around. The big wizard cloak guy was back and had Sable's webbed-up body over his shoulder. "For your own sake," he said calmly as the dagger lady walked to his side, "keep your n-nose out of other p-p-people's affairs."

"Is that a stutter?" I asked, genuinely surprised. "Wow, I'm sorry, have you ever thought about seeing a speech therapist?" He was quiet as his cloak fluttered with the wind. "No, no, you're right, that was out of line. I am sorry. It's just-" Wait a minute! There's no wind right now! I shot a web too late, as the man's cloak had enveloped him, his partner, and Sable and they vanished before my web could reach them. I was left alone in a wrecked restaurant with twenty unconscious mobsters and nothing to show for it. Wonderful. I'm gonna go take a shower to wash away the disappointment.

Author's Note: You know, I never planned on putting Cloak and Dagger in the story. I was writing the fight between Punisher and Sable and Spidey, and it was coming out a lot like the last Punisher fight, and I was getting bored. So, I just shrugged my shoulders and wrote in Cloak and Dagger. I always thought they were pretty neat. Maybe they could get a TV show or something, I don't know. Anyway, hope you liked the chapter, leave some reviews, and stay awesome!