TWIN DEMONS by Georgia Kennedy
Author's Notes
Wegmans is the name of a well known gourmet supermarket chain on the East Coast of the United States.
Part of Peter and Matt's conversation is taken from: Paul Jenkins, Phil Winslade, and Tom Palmer, Marvel Knights - Daredevil / Spider-Man - Unusual Suspects, Volume IV (New York, Marvel Comics, Inc. 2001).
Disclaimer
This is a derivative work of fiction featuring characters copyrighted and trademarked by Marvel Characters, Inc. It is based upon: Spider-Man, copyright 2002 by Columbia Pictures Industries, Inc., all rights reserved; Spider-Man 2, copyright 2004 by Columbia Pictures Industries, Inc., all rights reserved; Daredevil - Director's Cut, copyright 2004 by Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment, Inc., all rights reserved; and Hulk, copyright 2003 by Universal Studios, all rights reserved. The author is not connected with nor is this work authorized by Marvel Characters, Inc., or any of the aforementioned motion picture studios. This work is intended solely for posting on Fanfiction, for the benefit and enjoyment of its intended audience. No commercial or financial benefit accrues or is intended to accrue to the author as a result of said posting. Any unauthorized copying or redistribution of this work might subject the party responsible for such unauthorized copying or redistribution to legal action by the owners of the aforementioned copyrights and trademarks.
XXV
GUARDIAN DEMONS
"Oh, Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?"
Mary Jane had launched into an off-the-cuff turn at Shakespeare as she stood on the veranda overlooking their enormous new living room.
"Here I art thou, oh Juliet, my beautiful angel." As Peter gazed up at her from the living room floor, he got down on one knee and spread his arms wide in a gesture of complete devotion to his lady love, improvising as best he could. "My eyes cannot turneth away from thee. My arms longeth to hold thee . . ."
"Then getteth thy arse up here and kisseth me already!"
He leaped off the floor, did a double flip, and landed right beside her behind the balustrade.
"Thou art such a show-off," she laughed softly as she gathered him in her arms, eagerly pressing her lips against his.
They looked over the apartment, admiring their handiwork. In less than twenty-four hours, Peter had managed to move himself and Mary Jane from Greenwich Village to Hell's Kitchen without drawing any unwanted attention. Long before sunrise, he had hauled his meager belongings all the way from his old apartment on Carmine street, a distance of over fifty blocks. In the morning, he had rented a U-Haul truck, helped Mary Jane pack, and discretely wheeled her furniture out through the freight elevator. Everything had gone smoothly, but Peter was constantly looking over his shoulder, ready to vanish in an instant if Eddie Brock showed his face.
They had spent the whole afternoon unloading the truck, shopping for groceries, and getting their new apartment organized. Mary Jane marveled as she watched Peter effortlessly move her bed, her dresser, and her other furniture into place. Later, while M.J. took a shower and got ready for her gig, Peter returned the truck and brought in a pizza.
But there was still a little work left to do.
"Do we have time to finish setting up the loft, M.J.?"
"About twenty minutes," she told him, knowing that she would have to depart for the Lyric about an hour earlier than she did from her old place in order to make her curtain.
This loft was smaller than the one Peter had in the apartment he once shared with Harry Osborn, but large enough to accommodate the bed, desk, and the dorm fridge he had brought over from Ditkovitch's place. It had a tiny wardrobe closet and two doors, one of which opened to the veranda. The other led to the spiral stairway that connected the loft to the first floor. A single skylight straddled the middle of the sloping ceiling.
For Peter, it was the loft that had sealed the deal. It would be the perfect place for him to do his homework without disturbing M.J. But more important, the skylight opened onto a roof that was partially obscured by a water tower, which would allow him to slip in and out of the apartment virtually unobserved.
It was a far-better set-up than those rickety French doors.
"How come you brought your old bed with you?" Mary Jane asked when she saw his things piled up in a corner of the room.
"I'll have to sleep somewhere until we get married."
She thrust her hand into his crotch. "You better be kidding." To make sure he understood her point, she squeezed.
It took less than five minutes to get everything organized and put away. Peter moved his bed into one corner and his desk into another, plugged in his fridge, and set up his ancient computer while Mary Jane unpacked his rather small wardrobe from a plastic garbage bag. She reverently lifted his costume out of the bag and hung it up in the closet, placing the boots on the floor and the gloves and mask on the top shelf.
"Hey Pete," she said. "Why don't you give this place a name?"
"Okay. How about, 'the Spider's Web'?"
"Nah. Sound's like a strip joint. Beside's it's kind of obvious."
Unfortunately, the Bat Cave and the Fortress of Solitude were both taken.
"I got one," he said after giving the matter a little more thought, "The Tiger's Den."
Mary Jane smiled. "Now that I like." She looked around at the bare, shell-white ceiling and walls. "You know, this room could really use some pictures."
"You're absolutely right, honey." He darted downstairs and was back in less than a minute with the three-by-five-foot posters of M.J.'s Emma Rose billboard and rave notice from Earnest. She had kept them hidden under her bed.
But Mary Jane seemed less than enthusiastic. "That isn't exactly what I had in mind, Peter. You don't have to put me on a pedestal anymore."
"I'm not putting you on a pedestal, Mary Jane. I'm gonna put you on the ceiling."
"Go away," she laughed.
"No, really. I want to be able to look into those magical eyes of yours when I'm stuck up here, having to pull an all-nighter."
"Peter Parker, you are such a trip."
Outside, the setting sun bathed the city in a bright orange glow. Mary Jane checked her watch. "Gotta go to work, Tiger."
They kissed again.
"Are you going to take a cab?" Peter asked.
"Of course. Don't you think I know better than to take the subway at night?" She quickly opened her change purse, making sure that it was full. "I'll call from that payphone we saw in the lobby."
"Well, you still need to keep an eye out for Eddie."
"Stop worrying so much. I'll just pay the taxi driver a few extra dollars to meander around the city a bit. My friend Louise says that the way most cabbies drive, they can easily lose a tail."
"How would she know that?"
"She used to date a paparazzi. He would tell her all sorts of war stories about trying to trap celebrities in compromising positions and losing them in car chases."
"I can't imagine that relationship lasted very long."
"It didn't. She broke up with the guy when she found out he was just using her to get dirt on a famous actress she once knew."
"Well, M.J., I hope she's right. I don't want Eddie finding out where we live on the very day we move in."
"I'll do my best." Mary Jane briefly glanced at Peter's costume. "And you be careful too tonight, all right?"
"You bet." He gave her a long, drawn-out hug. "Now, go knock 'em dead. And try not to get home too late. This neighborhood still looks pretty rough."
"Yes, daddy." She glided down the spiral stairs, picked up her grey button-down sweater, and was out the front door. "Later, love," she called out over her shoulder.
Peter lay on his bed, unable to turn his starry-eyed gaze away from the images of Mary Jane that were now directly overhead. As tired as he was from the day's work, he never felt happier in his life. He would be living like a human being again, sharing a love nest with the woman of his dreams.
M.J. would not be home for hours, and those hours would seem like years if he did not find something to occupy his mind. Feeling the need to get some fresh air, he crawled up the ceiling and opened the skylight, just in time to watch the last vestiges of daylight slip below the horizon.
No sooner had he stepped onto the roof when he felt a mild buzzing inside his head. His first thought was that Brock had somehow tailed him to the Kitchen. But when he heard a thud made by the impact of shoes on concrete, he breathed a sigh of relief.
"Fencing stolen goods?" a familiar voice called out of the dark.
"Yeah, right," Peter retorted. "Like I can get a dime for anything in this apartment."
"Welcome to Hell's Kitchen, Peter." Matt Murdock emerged from the shadows, wearing tan trousers, an open-collared, mustard-colored shirt, and a navy blue sports jacket. In one hand he held his cane, and in the other, a bunch of freshly-cut flowers and a Macy's bag. It contained a fairly large box covered with silver gift-wrap. "A housewarmer, compliments of the law firm of Nelson and Murdock."
"Thanks very much, Matt. Sorry you missed Mary Jane. She left a while ago."
"I expect I'll be running into her at some point."
"Um . . . if I can ask, what is this?"
"An electric wok set."
"Actually, I was hoping for the flowers."
"They're for a rather feisty assistant district attorney with whom I'll be having dinner later tonight."
"Cool."
Suddenly, the lights from a nearby billboard kicked on, illuminating the red, white, and black logo of the Daily Bugle.
The sudden spiking of Peter's heartbeat had startled Matt for an instant.
"Argghhh," Peter groaned. "My past still haunts me."
"I take it that you are referring to Mr. Brock?" Matt asked as he recovered.
Peter was no longer surprised at how easily the more experienced crime fighter could pick up what was on his mind. "Mr. Jameson wants Spider-Man stuffed and mounted for taking Mary Jane away from his son," he explained, staring at the billboard. "The other day, he offered me and Eddie Brock bonuses to get pictures of us 'making out on a rooftop'." The words made him choke, as if he were being forced to swallow a wad of stale spinach.
"You already told me that, Peter."
"I did?"
"Yes, you did. But you never said how much."
"A grand."
"That doesn't sound like a lot."
"It is for Jameson. The guy's so tight he hasn't bought himself a decent-fitting suit in years."
Matt chuckled.
"I have to admit, Eddie's good at what he does," Peter continued with a sigh. "He never lets go of a story once he gets his teeth into it"
Matt understood that a dedicated journalist could not be held off indefinitely. He had spent years trying to avoid Ben Urich, to no avail. Ultimately, it was Urich's integrity that preserved his secret. Brock, on the other hand, was a tabloid reporter, a sensation-monger with few scruples who wouldn't hesitate to expose Spider-Man if he thought there would be a payoff.
"I think you have to plan your strategy around the assumption that Mr. Brock will eventually learn of your relationship with Mary Jane. It's very difficult to keep a secret like that indefinitely, even under the best of circumstances. Having said that, however, I believe there are steps you can take to preserve your anonymity for as long as possible."
"Such as?"
"Well, for one thing, try and be discreet about being seen with Mary Jane in public, at least for a couple of months, or until this thing with Mr. Jameson blows over. The other thing is, I hope you don't plan on taking any more pictures of yourself."
"I fired my photographer the other day."
"A wise decision on your part, Peter. Do you have a cell phone?"
"Nope."
"Then get one. They're much harder to tap than land lines. Keep your address unlisted. And put everything in Mary Jane's name, your lease, your phone bill, everything.
"I got a little problem there, Matt. M.J. and I already signed the lease."
"Then get a new lease made up. It's pretty routine. If you run into problems with that, let me know."
"Okay. I'll get on those things right away."
The war-weary attorney stepped to the edge of the roof. Peter fell in next to him, and together, the two of them stood watch over the neighborhood that was now home to both of New York's costumed guardians.
Even wearing their street clothes, they could have easily been mistaken for gargoyles in the shadows of dusk.
Across the street lay the ruins of what had once been a notorious biker joint. Amidst huge chunks of rubble were scattered charred remains of a billiard table, pieces of ceiling fans, and a red neon sign that spelled JOSIE'S. A sign on a construction scaffold near the concrete carcass read: "Coming Soon — Wegmans."
An uneasy silence had descended between them. Peter had read Ben Urich's article about the conflagration at Josie's Bar and the grisly end of his apartment's former occupant. The article strongly implied that Daredevil was responsible for Jose Quesada's death, either by act or more likely, by omission.
But Peter knew that he was in no position to pass judgment; he too carried a dark secret. He had not lifted a finger to prevent his uncle's murderer from falling out of that abandoned warehouse window.
Peter finally broke the awkward silence. "I . . . I just want to say thanks for helping us find this place. It means an awful lot to Mary Jane and me."
"My pleasure." Matt turned toward Peter, but looked past him, gazing into the eternal twilight in which he would always dwell. The reflection of the surrounding lights on his glasses made his youthful colleague think of teardrops.
"How versed are you in Greek mythology, Peter?"
"I know some."
"Have you ever heard of the Hydra?"
Peter pondered the question for a moment. "Some kind of jellyfish, right?"
"Yes, but no. The Hydra was a creature with many heads. What made it so formidable was that if one head was cut off, two more would grow back in its place."
A look of confusion came over Peter's face. "I'm sorry, Matt, but you just lost me."
"It took me twenty-two years to deliver justice to my father's killer. From the time I was twelve years old, it was all I ever thought about. But I never anticipated Wilson Fisk having so many potential successors."
"What are you saying, Matt, that nailing Fisk was a mistake?"
"No, Peter. I'm saying that justice, like everything else in this world, has its price."
Peter began to understand where Matt was coming from. The Kingpin's rule had brought a certain degree of order to the underworld. With Fisk's conviction, the syndicates that he had built over the years broke apart, spawning the massive crime wave that had been overwhelming the city and keeping Spider-Man and Daredevil working overtime.
"You can't blame yourself for that," Peter pointed out. "After all the things he did? If it were me, I'd have done the same thing."
"I don't blame myself, Peter," Matt replied a little sharply. "I have no regrets about the Kingpin. Justice has been done, and Dad is resting now. I just don't want you to have any illusions that things are going to get any easier without Fisk running the show."
"I think I know the score, Matt. I've been in the trenches for a couple of years now."
"Yes, you have. But in the long run, it doesn't really matter. Evil will survive, regardless of how many small-time thieves you sweep off the streets."
"Just what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Peter felt offended that Matt seemed to be belittling his efforts. "I'm out there every day, breaking my ass, trying to make the city a little bit safer for Joe and Joanne Sixpack. I don't need some Zen master from Hell's Kitchen telling me it's all for naught."
"I'm sorry you misunderstood me, Peter. What you've done is extraordinary. But it's not enough. The rules of the game are changing, and we have to change if we're going to be effective. We have to anticipate, not just react.
"Didn't we do that against the terrorists?"
"We were lucky against the terrorists," Matt reminded him. "We stumbled onto their plot only because of a string of fortuitous coincidences. If just one link in that chain had been broken — if Aziz didn't call you as a witness, if those men hadn't tried to kill him, if I didn't pick up those police dispatches — we might not be standing here today."
"So, what are we supposed to do?"
"We leverage our abilities in ways that will give us the upper hand, both tactically and strategically."
Peter caught Matt's drift. "Are you suggesting that we work together?"
"You're quite perceptive, as usual."
"I'll take that as a compliment," Peter replied, his heart swelling with pride. "We do make a pretty good team, don't we?"
"Yes, we do."
"I'm curious, Matt. Whatever happened to the Hydra?"
"The king of Mycenae had dispatched Heracles to slay the Hydra. Heracles enlisted the help of his nephew, Iolaus. Together, they lured the beast out of its lair and the battle was joined. Heracles lopped off the heads while Iolaus cauterized the wounds with a torch, so that they couldn't grow back. They eventually won." He offered Peter his hand.
Peter took it.
A few blocks away, the bells from the Church of the Holy Innocents chimed eight times. Peter saw Matt's face twist into a grimace for the briefest instant.
"I have to meet my date," Matt said. "Remember, Peter, Monday morning, seven o'clock sharp, at my law office."
"I'll be there," Peter said.
Just before Matt stepped off the roof, Matt delivered one final piece of advice for new partner. "Never forget, Peter, that one man can always make a difference."
"Two," Peter corrected. But Matt had already gone.
"Hey," Peter called after him. "Watch out for your flowers." He peered over the ledge, but Hell's Kitchen's original sentinel was nowhere to be seen.
Maybe he was never here, Peter thought for a moment. Then he felt the tug of the Macy's bag in his hand. He went back inside the loft and put the bag on the veranda.
As he lay on his bed, once more gazing at Mary Jane's pictures, the faint wail of a distant siren gently reminded him of his responsibility. He got up and reached for his costume, his fiancée's admonition about being careful uppermost in his mind.
"Guardian demons," Spider-Man whispered as he swung by the Emma Rose billboard at the intersection of 58th Street and Tenth Avenue.