Disclaimer: IT'S ME AGAIN! Somehow, I survived getting drawn into a super massive black hole and lived to tell the tale. (Those of you who actually believed that diatribe, you are EXTREMELY gullible!) I don't own the rights to Spider-Man or any supporting characters. (What a shock!)
Chapter XII
Masquerade
Peter stormed through the double doors upon entering Manhattan hospital, coming to a sudden stop at the front desk and startling the receptionist. "Can you tell me where're you keeping May Parker?"
"She's being kept in Room 191." the reception quickly said.
Peter almost immediately bolted toward that destination, ignoring the receptionist's plea to stop. He didn't want to believe what had happen when Mary Jane informed him of Aunt May's condition. The last time May was in the hospital, it was due to the Green Goblin. It felt like Daja Vu, this time involving the Hobgoblin. The difference was that Peter felt very much at fault because he, as Spider-Man, was there and didn't act quickly enough. First Uncle Ben, now this? Peter's mind was racing at light speed when he eventually reached Room 191. There were a handful of people there, including Mary Jane, Felicia and Michael. Aunt May laid in the hospital bed unconscious, with a doctor standing of her. Mary Jane had tears streaming down her face when Peter entered the room.
"Peter!" Mary Jane quickly embraced Peter.
Peter eventually released Mary Jane before going to kneel by Aunt May. "What happened? Is she going to be okay?"
"You're aunt collapsed according to you friends, possibly due the shock of the earlier attack this afternoon," the doctor said. "For the moment, she's in stable condition but we'd like to keep her here overnight just to be safe."
Peter didn't respond, or was even paying any attention to the doctor's word. He was holding May's hand in his own. He was also cursing himself for his irresponsibility. He felt he should've been able to protect Aunt May from the Hobgoblin's assault, even though the Goblin didn't physically harm her. Then there was Roderick Kingsley. Peter should've been able to save him as well, despite Kingsley's obvious distain for Spider-Man. He didn't deserve to die, no matter how much he possibly hated the hero. For all Peter knew, the Goblin was probably out there, killing random people just to get Spider-Man to unmask. While Peter didn't respond to the doctor, Felicia did.
"Doctor, with your permission, I would like to assess the hospital bill."
The doctor cocked an eyebrow at Felicia request. "I suppose that won't be a problem. If you could, Miss Hardy, meet me out in hall so we may discuss thing properly."
The doctor left the room and Felicia looked over at Peter with Mary Jane huddled over him. Michael was by the window looking out into the city. He remained very silent so as not to cause a stir, but he was deeply concerned for May's wellbeing. He just wouldn't show it. Felicia redirected her attention to Peter and MJ, while Michael came out of his trance and approached her.
Michael placed one hand on Felicia's shoulder and whispered, "I believe we should give them some time alone for now."
Felicia nodded and turned to Peter and MJ. "Peter, for whatever it's worth, I'm sorry about your aunt." Felicia said nothing more after that and accompanied Michael out the door to the hall.
Mary Jane entered the hall soon after. "Felicia," she called. Felicia did respond and turned toward Mary Jane. "I owe an apology."
"For what, Mary Jane?" Felicia asked, curious and somewhat confused.
"For being so suspicious of you, and doubting your sincerity," Mary Jane said. "I felt as if you were trying to steal Peter away and I was wrong on so many levels."
"Stop, Mary Jane," Felicia said, putting a hand up. "You don't have to apologies for anything, so none of our past issues matter. What does matter is that Peter needs you in this troubling moment."
"Thank you, Felicia!" Mary Jane said before letting Felicia go on her way.
Mary Jane returned to the room to find Peter at the window, staring blankly out into the city. She wondered what was going through his mind at the moment. Was Peter thinking about Aunt May lying in a hospital bed? Was he thinking about Uncle Ben? Or maybe Harry or even Norman! Or was thinking about the Hobgoblin? Mary Jane wanted to approach Peter, to comfort him or say anything to ease the pain. But what could she say? Mary Jane decided to take that chance as she slowly approached Peter.
"Peter, are you okay?"
Peter didn't answer right away. He couldn't without snapping, which he was very close to doing. As calmly as he could, Peter finally said, "Why does everyone I love always have to be the ones who suffer?"
That was a rhetorical question, one that Mary Jane didn't answer. "Peter, I don't think there was any way you could've known this would happen."
"I was right there, Mary Jane," Peter snapped. "I could've stopped the Hobgoblin right then and there. Instead, I let people die and Aunt May is laying on a hospital bed. For all we know, she may never wake up. And it's my fault. Just like Uncle Ben's death was my fault."
"Uncle Ben's death wasn't technically your fault," Mary Jane argued. "You know that better than anyone."
Peter refused to hear it. "Yes it was, Mary Jane. Indirectly or not, I could've saved my uncle. I could've saved Harry and his father. I could've save Dr. Octavius or Eddie Brock," Peter sank into a chair in a state of despair. "Maybe the Goblin was right; maybe Spider-Man is the monster."
After a long, trying moment of despair, Peter stood up and started for the door. Mary Jane quickly asked, "Where're you going now?"
"I'm going to end this," Peter said, determination in his tone. "The Hobgoblin wants Spider-Man unmasked; he's going to get his wish. But first, I'm going to unmask the Hobgoblin and make him answer for his crimes."
"How," Mary Jane asked. "You don't even know where to find him."
Peter went silent for a brief moment, and then said, "Yes I do."
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Chaos seemed to be the order of the day down at the NYPD, which was something Jean DeWolff balked at more often than not. A total of seven casualties were reported at the Theatre District, and one elderly woman collapsed from shock. Jean couldn't quite bring herself to give a damn. She wasn't technically being cold-hearted like some of the more questionable cops but stuff like that happened everyday. Of course, Jean got stuck cleaning up the mess. She was currently outside the department smoking a cigarette when a lower ranking officer approached.
"Chief, I got something I thought you'd want to see."
Jean yanked the cigarette from her lips and huffed. "It better not be something pointlessly romantic."
Far from it," the officer assured the captain. "I was doing a background check on one of the victims of the Goblin attack: Roderick Kingsley."
"The fashion designer and media tycoon?" Jean clarified, more for herself than the officer.
The officer handed Jean a small stack of papers. "Oh, this guy did more than just make dresses and perfumes."
Jean retained a very indifferent expression as she started flipping through the papers. With each page that she examined, Jean's expression slowly went from indifferent to surprised to shocked and back to surprise. Apparently, Jean's findings turned up some very interesting facts about the late Mr. Kingsley. Jean assumed right then and there that more would be revealed upon her asking of a certain chalk-skinned businessman.
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L. Thompson Lincoln had his shot lined up perfectly. He glared straight at the lone queue ball and reared back with the queue stick and took the shot. The little white ball struck a green ball and that one rolled slowly toward the hole that would be it resting place. The ball never made it, instead being caught in the waiting hands of an all around uninvited guest. Lincoln glared at the intruder, who turned out to be Jean DeWolff.
"Oops," she mockingly quipped. "I guess I screwed up your shot."
"Capt, DeWolff, you seem to be making a habit of pestering me," Lincoln said. "I have nothing further to discuss with you."
"You sure about that, Lincoln." Jean asked as she threw the paper she'd brought with her onto the billiard table.
Lincoln looked at the paper, cocking his head at the information to stared back at him. "I have no response to this whatsoever."
"Is that right, because it seems to me that you know more about Roderick Kingsley than you would let on," Jean said, leaning forward on the table. "And vice versa! It appears that Big Man and Kingsley were associates in the criminal circuit quite some time. Then you must've done something to upset Kingsley as he left a while later. Then along came the Hobgoblin. Strange coincidence, don't you think?"
"Is there a point to any of this, DeWolff?" Lincoln snapped, annoyed by the relentless police captain.
"I'd be willing to bet my ridiculous monthly salary that Kingsley hired the Goblin to take you out," DeWolff said. "Then Kingsley could just waltz in and take over your criminal empire."
"There's still one outstanding issue," Lincoln said matter-of-factly. "If, and this is a big if, Kingsley hired the Hobgoblin to kill me, what could drive the Goblin to kill Kingsley instead? That doesn't quite to fit in your little conspiracy puzzle."
"Maybe the Goblin wanted your empire all to himself, and he killed Kingsley to ensure it would happen." Jean said.
"Well if that is the case, maybe you should ask Kingsley himself," Lincoln mockingly suggested. "That's assuming you can raise him from the dead. Either way, none of this helps in proving that I'm Big Man, so you're very much left with absolutely nothing."
Jean felt somewhat defeated, so she took the paperwork and started for the door out of Lincoln's office. "You can't hide behind the bureaucrats forever, Lincoln. I will find the evidence to put the Big Man away for good. You can quote me on that."
Jean DeWolff stormed out of the office, leaving Lincoln to smirk at her latest defeat. But DeWolff's Intel was quite solid. Roderick Kingsley did have a brief association with the Big Man. Then Kingsley got greedy and wanted the Big Man's operations for himself. So he talked some lowly thug to dress up some Halloween costume to take out the Big Man. Ironically, Kingsley was killed by the very psychopath he allegedly created. Something didn't add up, that much Lincoln knew and Kingsley was the only one who could answer the mounting questions. Unfortunately, neither Lincoln nor DeWolff would ever be able to find out.
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The Daily Bugle was actually a little quieter than normal for a change, something Ned Leeds noticed as he was exiting the elevators. He had a portfolio underneath his arm and an air of triumph in his step. Ned had succeeded in gathering the evidence he so feverishly searched for in his efforts to expose the Big Man of crime. Take that, Capt. DeWolff! All Ned needed to do was show it all to Mr. Jameson and hope he'd approve its running. Betty seemed to notice the spring in Ned's step and could tell he was on cloud nine, so to speak. In the relatively short time they've worked together, Ned and Betty had become very fond of each other. They'd sometimes never get any further than a brief flirtation before Jameson came out and yelled at Ned not to harass his secretary. Maybe once Ned delivered the goods, Jameson would show some leeway and get off his back. Meanwhile, Peter entered the office and quickly spotted Ned talking to Betty. Peter wanted to march right over to Ned but what could he possible say. He didn't have legitimate, concrete evidence that Ned was the Hobgoblin.
Ned spotted Peter approaching him. "Hey Pete! We heard through the grapevine about what happened to your aunt."
"How's she holding up?" Betty asked.
Peter stammered slightly but managed to say, "Well, she's alive, thank goodness for that. The doctors said that she collapsed from shock and there's no word when she regains consciousness."
"Man, I hope it all works out," Ned said, seeming genuinely concerned. "I'd be going ballistic if it was my aunt."
"Yeah," Peter mumbled before quickly changing the subject. "Listen, Ned, I need to talk to you right away. It's really important."
"What about, Pete?" Ned asked.
Out of nowhere, Jameson came booming out of his office. "Leeds, I don't pay you to stand around looking clueless. Get in my office, pronto!"
"Sorry, Pete, it's going to have to wait." Ned said before rushing into Jameson's office.
"Ned, wait!" Peter said, too late as Ned was already in the boss's office.
Betty noticed Peter's uneasiness. "Peter, are you feeling okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
More like a goblin! Peter thought. He leaned close to Betty so as not to be heard. "Betty, I think Ned may be in serious trouble."
"From who, the Hobgoblin?" Betty asked.
Again, Peter stammered on finding an answer. "Betty, I think…I think Ned is the Hobgoblin.
Betty said nothing at first, instead stared blankly at Peter as if he'd grown an extra head. "Peter, what are you talking about? Ned can't be the Hobgoblin. He couldn't have been masquerading. Like that night of ballroom incident, Ned was sick when the Goblin first showed up. And earlier today, Ned was here at the Bugle all day."
"What if it was all a ruse," Peter said, becoming more agitated by the second. "What if Ned set all that up so he could change into the Goblin."
"Peter, stop it," Betty suddenly snapped. "That enough! How could you possibly accuse Ned of being that lunatic? I thought you were better than this."
"But Betty…" Peter tried to say but Betty put her finger up.
"I don't want to hear anymore of this garbage, Peter."
Just then, Ned stepped out of the office, looking silent and dejected. Then he threw his arms up in the air and performed a bizarre victory dance. "The boss is going to run my story in tomorrow morning's paper. I could se the headline," Ned put his hand and envisioned a headline "BIG MAN REVEALED! So, what do you guys think," Ned looked at Peter and Betty and a very awkward silence filled the space between the three. "Was it something I said?"
"I think it was more like something Peter said," Betty answered, glaring at Peter. "Go on, Peter, didn't you have something to tell Ned?"
Peter didn't need his spider sense to know that Betty was very upset with him. Ned interjected himself into the conversation. "Yeah, Pete, you did have something you wanted to discuss with me."
"Well, yeah," Peter was choking under the pressure. A very large part of him wanted to ditch it and forget about Ned allegedly being the Goblin, but he took the chance anyway. "Ned, I think I might know who the Hobgoblin is."
"Man, this day just gets better and better," Ned said, ecstatic. "Lay it on me, Pete! I'm all ears."
Betty sat at her desk thinking, Please, Peter. Don't do this.
Peter got primed and ready to reveal that Ned Leeds was allegedly the Hobgoblin before his spider sense went off. And it went off big time! Everything slowed to an enormous crawl and Peter could see everything around him. Slowly, everything began returning to normal time. Then the far wall imploded in a shower of debris and chaos in the Bugle ensued. Peter was thrown off his feet and to the floor, along with Ned and Betty, whom Ned caught to break her fall. Peter collected himself and then heard the all too familiar whine of a high powered engine. Standing atop the menacing bat-like glider, ever arrogant and narcissistic, was the Hobgoblin. The one and only! The look on Peter's spoke volumes of shock and astonishment.
"Peter Parker," the Goblin shouted, pointing directing at Peter. He hopped off the glider and grabbed Peter by the collar of his jacket and they were face to face. "I hear tell that you're the foremost expert on getting photos of Spider-Man."
"What do you want from me?" Peter said, desperately fighting to get loose.
"I want Spider-Man," the Goblin growled. "You know where and how to find him, and you're going to bring him to me, if I have to rip out your throat."
Jameson stormed out his office after being thrown off his feet earlier. "What the hell's going on out here," Then Jameson spotted the Hobgoblin glaring at him. "You again?"
"Shut your mouth, old man," The Goblin shouted before dragging Peter and dangling him out of the hole the Goblin created "Now then, Mr. Parker, share with me the location of that wall crawling coward, before I start taking lives! Staring with yours!"
"Let him go!" the seemingly unafraid voice of Ned Leeds sounded.
The Goblin reared his face back at Ned. "You stay out of this, you little punk." The Goblin reared his right arm back and extended the arm blades.
Ned didn't, or probably couldn't flinch, instead holding his ground. "You want Spider-Man, right," The Hobgoblin glared directly at Ned, cocking his hideous yellow face. "Let Peter go and you can have Spider-Man."
"Is that right," The Goblin pondered. He glared at Peter for a long moment before tossing Peter back into building, right to the floor. The Goblin quickly grasped Ned. "Tell me, punk; where's Spider-Man?"
Ned was unable to answer right away, but he did eventually. "It's me! I'm Spider-Man."
The Goblin simply cocked his head in astonishment. This little punk kid was Spider-Man? Absolutely absurd! Peter stared utterly shocked at Ned's bold declaration. The expression on his face was matched by those Jameson, Robbie and Betty. Especially Betty! Jameson's jaw was agape. All this time, Spider-Man was just some kid working right under his nose. Peter was the most shocked, because he knew Ned was lying. It was probably to buy some time for the real Spider-Man to arrive. But it was time that Ned was rapidly losing.
"So, you're the wall crawler, kid?" The Goblin snarled. He didn't sound all that convinced.
"Yeah," Ned answered. "So just take me and leave my friends alone."
"Well, that's very noble of you," the Goblin mockingly said, slowly stalking towards Ned. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid I'm not taking prisoners today."
The Hobgoblin suddenly bolted directly at Ned, pulling out the electric blade along the way and he thrust hard. Time seemed to just stand still. Ned could feel the blade digging into his stomach, the electrical current coursing through like poison. Peter was frozen solid in place, while Betty could be heard screaming at watching the horrifying turn of events. The Hobgoblin removed the weapon and Ned fell to the floor. A red stain formed and grew wider with each passing second as Betty crawled to her fallen friend. Ned breathing was going shallow as tears streamed down Betty's face.
"You monster," she screamed. "He was defenseless."
The Goblin simply hopped onto his glider and stared, uncaring and cold hearted. "If you want to blame somebody, blame that hypocritical arachnid for letting your little boyfriend die. If anyone is a monster, it is and will always be the real Spider-Man."
The Hobgoblin gunned the engine and soon after took off into the horizon. Chaos and confusion ensued afterward, as Betty cradled the limp form of Ned Leeds. Robbie had rushed into Jameson's office to call for the authorities, while Jameson was sitting flabbergasted on the floor. Of all the people, Peter was the most shocked. He had believed Ned to be the villain when all along, Ned was never the Goblin. Peter's mind became a whirlwind on confusion and all he could do was watch Ned Leeds slip away into Death's embrace. At the same time, the Hobgoblin had already slipped away into the darkness, his identity still a total mystery.
Author's note: Chapter XII comes to an emotional end and I think it safe to say that things are becoming very personal. So, let me know what ya'll think and I'll catch you later.