TWIN DEMONS by Georgia Kennedy
Author's Notes
The title of this chapter is a play on Betty Brant's wonderful story, Excuses Excuses
Photochromatic lenses automatically adjust their tint, depending upon the light.
For the benefit of those readers not familiar with New York City, "JFK" refers to John F. Kennedy International Airport.
"The Time Warp, © 1975, Music and lyrics written by Richard O'Brien.
"Dream of Me, © 2001, Written by Marc Shaiman and Scott Wittman, Performed by Kirsten Dunst.
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.
XXIX
EPILOGUE: SOPHISTICATED EXCUSES
Standing in front of the Lyric Theater's stage door on an unseasonably warm October night, Louise Wood, Reed Diamond, and Mary Jane Watson were mobbed by a huge throng of autograph seekers. They had just taken their final curtain call on what had been an amazingly successful run. For months they had played to a sold-out house, pulling the theater out of red ink, to the everlasting gratitude of its owners, Bobby and Paulie Ferlazzo.
But, like all good things, The Importance of Being Earnest had come to an end. A new production would shortly grace the Lyric's stage, and Earnest's cast and crew, which had grown as close as a family, would soon disperse. Some, including Louise, Reed, and Mary Jane, would find new gigs while others would find new lines of work.
The cast members remained in costume, at the request of the Ferlazzo brothers. To show their appreciation for a job well done, Bobby and Paulie had sprung for a Halloween party at Park's Jazz and Karaoke Club. Everyone who was involved with the production, along with spouses, significant others, and friends would be treated to, as Bobby Ferlazzo had promised, "the mother of all cast parties." Even Waldo, the notoriously officious usher, had been invited.
"So, where is he?" Louise inquired as the three leads worked the line of theatergoers, still clad in their Victorian-era garb.
"Yes," Reed echoed in the midst of signing three playbills. "I do hope that we'll finally have a chance to meet that mysterious gentleman friend of yours." In real life, his accent and mannerisms were not too different from those of the character he had portrayed
"Well, he said he'd be waiting around after the show." Mary Jane stole a glance over the nearly one-hundred faces in front of her, wondering if he was milling around on the sidewalk somewhere. Peter did have a tendency to blend into the background. He once kidded her that it was his chief survival mechanism before he got his spider-powers.
It still was, especially when he wanted to rendezvous with his girlfriend without showing up on Eddie Brock's radar.
Louise gave her friend a skeptical look. "You sure he's coming?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Because, every time we were supposed to double-date, he'd bug out at the last minute. I'm starting to get a complex."
"Don't," Mary Jane reassured her. "It's just the nature of his business. He has to be on call all the time." She looked around again. "By the way, where's Larry? I thought you left him a ticket."
"I did." Louise sighed. "But he's still in L.A. He got bumped from his flight at the last minute and stuck on a red-eye. I'll be meeting him at JFK tomorrow morning."
"Awww. He'll miss the party."
"Yeah, well . . . at least I'll get to spend a few days with him." Her lack of enthusiasm was quite noticeable.
The crowd eventually dwindled down until there were only two people left, a matronly type in a flamboyant orange pantsuit and a quiet young man dressed completely in black. Sporting a mustache, he was wearing a billed cap, wire-framed glasses, a sport coat with narrow lapels, and a collarless dress shirt with all the buttons closed. Over his shoulder, he carried a fully loaded camera bag.
Must be a tourist, Louise thought, or maybe a secret agent.
Even though the middle-aged woman was standing behind him, the man in black let her go. He waited until she had obtained signatures from all three players before approaching Reed.
"Grazie," the man said as Reed signed his playbill. "Magnifico, Signore."
"Glad you enjoyed it," Reed replied with a warm smile. Satisfied that there would be no more autograph seekers that evening, he excused himself and went back inside the theater to use the men's room, leaving the two actresses alone with the mysterious-looking foreigner.
The man turned to Louise next. The pretty brunette noticed his piercing blue eyes right away. "Are you Italian?" she inquired, recognizing his language.
"Sì, Contessa," the dark stranger said in a soft, slightly raspy voice.
"Hear that, Mary Jane? Countess?"
"I heard." Mary Jane acknowledged the foreigner's presence with a broad smile. "He obviously recognizes nobility."
"Of course." Louise continued with her bilingual flirt. "I'm Italian, too. Well, only half . . . my mom's side." She gave the stranger a closer look. "You know, you remind me of a young Robert DeNiro behind those glasses. What's your name?"
The man looked as if he had gotten lost in translation. "Eh . . . nome?"
"Yes," Louise answered. "Sì."
"Mi chiamo . . . my name . . . Pietro. Pietro Voláre."
"I'm Louise."
Pietro bowed and kissed the back of her hand in the old-world's traditional greeting of respect.
"Oh I like him," Louise giggled.
She heard a barely perceptible cough from Mary Jane, which she could have sworn sounded like laughter being suppressed.
"So, do you have a sweetheart back in Italy, Pietro?" Louise asked as she signed his playbill, next to her picture.
Looking a tad flustered, Pietro pulled a small English-to-Italian dictionary out of his pocket. "Eh, my English notta so good," he apologized as he hurriedly thumbed through the pages. "Come si dice 'sweetheart'?"
"What's so funny, Mary Jane?"
"Uh . . . Nothing. I've got a tickle in my throat, that's all."
Louise went back to her conversation with Pietro. "Girlfriend. Um . . . amóre."
"Ah sì, amóre." Pietro replied with a grin. "Capisco adesso. Si chiama . . . Mari Juana!"
Mary Jane's eyes went wide. She suddenly reached over and grabbed Pietro by his lapels. "Marijuana, huh? Well, here's my autograph, Mister Voláre."
And then she kissed him, right on the lips.
A shocked Louise stood there gaping as Mary Jane and the dapper-looking Italian shared a full, deep, and passionate french-kiss in front of the stage door. "M.J., what are you doing?" she gasped. "For Christ's sake, you're engaged. MARY JANE!"
Cecily Cardew broke the kiss as she and the delicately handsome young man turned toward the flabbergasted Gwendolyn Fairfax. He was chuckling. Mary Jane was laughing. "Louise, this is Peter Parker, my fiancé," she said after her mirth had subsided.
Louise stared at Peter in utter surprise. "You mean, you're not Italian?"
Peter shook his head, smiling. "Someone once said that there are two kinds of people in the world: Italians, and those who wished they were." He held out his hand. "Nice to finally meet you, Louise."
It took Louise a few more seconds to realize that the joke was on her. "Okay, you got me," she said with a good-natured laugh. "That was one terrific performance you just put on, with the accent, the dictionary, everything. You really nailed it."
Peter pointed to his fiancée. "She made me do it."
Mary Jane poked him lightly on the back of his head, dislodging his cap. But in a surprisingly fast reflex action, he caught the cap before it could fall off and put it back into place.
"Actually, he got me, too," M.J. observed.
"What?" Peter protested in mock indignation. "Mari Juana's your name, isn't it?"
Mary Jane put a hand on his face and affectionately squeezed his cheek between her thumb and forefinger. "We'll discuss that when we get home tonight. Okay, Tiger?"
"Uh oh," Peter grinned. "I'm in big trouble now."
"Banish him to the tower for a week, Mary Jane," Louise playfully urged. She had been to their apartment a few times while Peter was away, and had re-christened the loft.
"Nah," Mary Jane replied. "I wouldn't last that long without him."
They kissed again.
"Um . . . maybe we should get going," Louise suggested, gesturing toward the row of taxis lined up beneath the Lyric's marquee.
Reed, meanwhile, had rejoined his cast mates and who he thought was the Italian autograph hound as they climbed into the nearest cab.
"Where to?" the cabbie asked.
"Lafayette and Broadway," Louise directed.
"Reed, this is my boyfriend, Piet . . . excuse me, Peter." Mary Jane said, introducing her male lead to her leading man as the taxi pulled away from the curb. "Peter, this is Reed, Cecily's boyfriend."
"Ciao," Reed said as he shook Peter's hand. "Do you like America?"
"Sure. I've lived here all my life."
"Uh, Reed, these guys played a trick on us," Louise explained to her slightly mystified co-star. "It was just a put on."
"Well, it is a costume party and he definitely looks the part," Reed replied. "Are you an actor?"
"Not enough to get paid," Peter remarked wryly. But enough to keep the bad guys off balance.
"Where'd you learn to speak Italian?" Louise inquired, amazed at Peter's apparent facility with the language.
"Professor Florentina Braccio, New York University. She's a real stickler for accents."
"I got the idea when I came home and heard Peter reciting his homework." Mary Jane confessed. "But he's the one who'd actually came up with the name."
"Voláre is one of my aunt's favorite songs," Peter explained. "I used to hear it all the time while I was growing up. She kept a whole collection of those big black vinyl discs. Dean Martin, Tony Bennett, Frank Sinatra, she had them all."
"Well I think Voláre sounds rather suave and sophisticated," Reed chimed in.
"And very sexy," Louise added. "It kind of makes you think of some rich Italian playboy who's about to whisk you off to his villa on the Adriatic." There was a hint of wistfulness in her voice.
"By the way," Peter added. "You guys were all fabulous in the play."
"Thanks." Louise paused for a moment. "Were you in the audience?"
"I saw the show about six months ago, back when you could still get a ticket."
For the rest of the trip, Peter and Mary Jane held hands and gazed into each other's eyes. But every now and then, they would look out the windows, as if to see whether anyone was following them. The anxious looks on their faces during those moments did not escape Louise's notice.
XXXXXXXXXX
The party was already underway by the time they arrived at Park's. Bobby Ferlazzo stood at the door, giving everyone handshakes, hugs and high-fives as they strode by.
"Peter," a familiar voice called out as he, Mary Jane, and Louise made their way over to an empty table near the window.
"Mr. Nelson?" Peter was delightfully surprised to see one of his bosses at the party. As the attorney for the Ferlazzo Brothers, Foggy Nelson had earned his special guest status by persuading the Lyric's creditors to hold off on the foreclosure long enough for Earnest to gain some traction. It did, and the play's sustained success resulted in the creditors being paid off months ahead of schedule.
Peter did not bother asking where his other boss was. He knew that Matt Murdock could not take the noise in nightclubs and bars.
Unlike Foggy, however, he knew the reason why.
"Is that Peter Parker?" a female guest called out.
The voice belonged to Liz Allen. She had her hand on Foggy's back, in an obviously affectionate gesture.
"Hi Liz," Despite all of the changes to her appearance, Peter was able to recognize her right away. "It's good to see you again."
"Wow, what's happened to you?" Liz asked. "You look so . . . so . . . cool."
Peter took it as a compliment. "So do you."
"Why, thank you. I hear you're working for Franklin and Matt."
"Damn straight, Liz," Foggy interrupted characteristically, grabbing Peter's hand and pumping it up and down effusively. "This guy helped get three innocent men off death row. Sliced their expert witnesses to ribbons with his DNA testimony. They never had a chance."
As bosses, Matthew Murdock and Franklin Nelson were no less demanding than J. Jonah, Jameson. In fact, they were much more so. Unlike Jameson, however, they treated him like a fellow professional, with dignity and respect. While Matt was naturally reserved, the gregarious Foggy never hesitated to heap verbal accolades upon Peter for the quality of his work.
Peter blushed slightly. "Thanks, Mr. Nelson, for giving me a chance to prove myself."
"I have to admit, I had my doubts. But Matt sure was right on this one."
"By the way, Peter, how come you're here?" Liz inquired. Her tone was neither sarcastic nor mean-spirited, just curious.
"I'm engaged to one of the cast members."
Before Liz could ask who it was, Mary Jane had glided up to Peter and slid her arm around his shoulder. "Hey Liz. Franklin, how are you?"
Liz's jaw dropped to the floor, her expression as readable as an open book — that's who you dumped that astronaut for? Mary Jane and Peter grinned at each other as though they were laughing privately at some inside joke.
"Good evening, everyone," Paulie Ferlazzo announced from the center of the dance floor. "Thank you all for a magnificent ride. You were all on top of your game, and I'm so proud to have been associated with this production. Tomorrow, another day dawns and we will all go our separate ways. But tonight, let's celebrate. The bar's open and so is the karaoke line."
Peter mingled, snapped pictures, and danced with Mary Jane as amateur recording artists sang tunes from a collection dating back fifty years. Some singers were okay, most were good, and a few had real musical talent. Foggy Nelson kept coming back by popular demand. He was quite the song and dance man, having a broad vocal range and being incredibly light on his feet, despite his portliness.
"Come on, Pete," Foggy urged. "How about taking a turn up here."
Peter politely declined. "I can make a frog sound like Justin Timberlake."
At midnight, the deejay handed his microphone to Reed. "Ladies and gentlemen," the impromptu emcee announced. "Welcome to the Lyric Theater Company's production of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Can we keep control or will madness take its toll?"
"Get your camera ready, Pete," Mary Jane called out as she and Louise joined their cast mates on the dance floor.
"Direct from the planet Transylvania, we bring you — the Time Warp!" Reed intoned.
With Foggy leading the way in the role of Riff Raff, the Igorish-looking handyman, the company broke into a rendition of the 1970s cult classic. Louise brought down the house with her spot-on interpretation of Magenta, the vampire-like maid. And Reed, standing on a table, was hilarious as the criminologist-turned-dance-teacher. But it was Mary Jane who stole the show as Columbia, the tap-dancing, squeaky-voiced, red-haired groupie.
As for Peter, he whooped and hollered with the rest of the guests in the Rocky Horror tradition of audience participation while squeezing off photos in rapid-fire sequences.
"I got one I'd like to do," Louise said as the Time Warp ended. She filled out a slip of paper and handed it to the deejay. A few numbers later, she delivered an emotion-filled rendition of Faith Hill's angst-ridden, Cry, a song about a woman confronting betrayal by a long-time lover.
"Wow, Louise, that was incredible," Mary Jane said as her co-star returned to their table amid sustained applause. "Let's get you on American Idol."
"There's a lot of real life, there," Louise replied, her expression still a little forlorn. A second later, she lit up again. "But we're here to have a good time, right? Why don't you do one, Mary Jane?"
"Well, I . . . I'm really not that good."
"Sure you are, M.J.," Peter said, echoing Louise's sentiments. "You sing great when we're in the shower."
"Peter!"
"I'm serious, Mary Jane. You should do it."
Mary Jane started to think it over. As much as she loved it when Peter showered her with praise, she sometimes wondered whether he was capable of distinguishing a good performance from a bad one.
"You really don't think I'll make a fool of myself?" she asked tentatively.
"Absolutely not," Peter said confidently. His baby blues were a powerful means of persuasion. "Now, get up there and blow 'em away."
Louise nodded enthusiastically.
"Okay, I'll do it," Mary Jane agreed. "But if I get voted off, I'm gonna take it out on both of your hides." She sauntered up to the deejay and handed him her request.
When the disk jockey signaled for her to go, Mary Jane picked up the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to dedicate this number to the man I love, the man who gave me my life back more times than I can remember, the man who inspired me to be more than I ever thought I could be. The truth is, if it weren't for him, I wouldn't even be standing here. This song is called, Dream of Me."
On cue, the house lights were dimmed and a single spotlight shone on Mary Jane as she began to sing.
Let me sleep
For when I sleep
I dream that you are here
You're mine
And all my fears are left behind . . .
Everyone fell silent as the silvery lyrics gently floated across the room. And as Mary Jane locked eyes with Peter, she felt as though everyone and everything around them had just disappeared and the two of them were alone, sailing together on a sea of stars.
And sleep
Perchance to dream
So I can see the face I long to touch
To kiss . . .
Sitting next to Peter, Louise observed a tear running down his cheek. She smiled, no longer suffering guilt pangs about the advice she had given Mary Jane in connection with her previous relationship. The glow in M.J.'s eyes as she serenaded her amóre was a vindication of sorts. True, Peter did not have John Jameson's family wealth, glamorous profession, or movie-star looks. But there was something magnetic about him, a quiet confidence that made even Louise feel safe in his presence. She sensed that there was far more to this man than what was on the surface.
Mary Jane certainly thought so. Not once did she ever sing for her former beau, much less give him the looks she was giving Peter now. The expressions on their faces attested to the depth of their love for one another, a love expressed so eloquently in song . . .
So let the moon
Shine softly on the boy I long to see
And maybe when he dreams
He'll dream of me . . .
As happy as Louise was for M.J., she had to keep shoving those momentary, but annoyingly persistent feelings of envy back into the recesses of her psyche. She wished she could follow her own advice and stop attracting the wrong kind of guy. She hoped that things would be different with Larry, but was not optimistic.
Maybe Peter can figure out a way to clone himself, she mused.
The sudden chirping of a cell phone made her jump.
But it was not hers.
"Um . . . Peter . . ."
Peter did not answer. He was still mesmerized by his silver-throated fiancée.
Louise tapped him on the shoulder, snapping him out of his reverie. "Your phone's ringing."
"Oh . . . thank you." As Peter answered his phone, Louise watched as the joy in his expression gave way to anxiety, and then to grim determination. "Hang on a second," he said as he looked around the table.
"Do you have a pen?" he asked Louise.
She quickly furnished Peter with a pencil and a napkin from the next table, watching with mounting curiosity as he scribbled down an address while sandwiching the phone between his shoulder and his ear to keep in place. "I'm on it."
Peter snapped his phone shut. "That was my editor," he told Louise briskly. "There's a breaking story that he wants me to cover. Would you tell Mary Jane to go home without me, please?"
Before Louise could even open her mouth to say yes, he was gone.
Oooohhh
Dream of me
As she drew her song to a close, Mary Jane mouthed the words, "I love you, Tiger," and took a bow to a standing ovation and demands for an encore.
By the time she looked up again, Peter was nowhere to be seen.
As she made her way back to the table, Mary Jane's first thought was that he had gone to the men's room. But when she saw the stunned look on Louise's face, she had a sinking feeling that he would not be back.
"Your boyfriend just bolted," Louise confirmed. "Here one minute, gone the next."
"Did he say anything about where he was going?"
"He said his editor told him to get on some big story."
That answer told Mary Jane two things — that Matt Murdock had contacted Peter, and that Spider-Man and Daredevil would be seeing action that night. It was part of a code they had worked out to let M.J. know whenever trouble was brewing. She was amazed at how well their system was working; Peter had just used the unsuspecting Louise as his messenger.
In the six months since they had moved in together, Mary Jane had become quite adept at learning how to anticipate and prevent trouble instead of just reacting to it. She had been paying taxi drivers a small fortune to lose Eddie Brock in traffic on her way home. At Peter's insistence, she was taking a self-defense class for women, taught by Matt and his new girlfriend, Jean DeWolff , in the basement of the Church of the Holy Innocents. She had even bought Peter a pair of photochromatic shades that looked just like prescription glasses, so that people would think he had bad eyesight and be disinclined to connect him with Spider-Man.
But these elaborate security measures did little to quell Mary Jane's worries, which overwhelmed her at times. She was well aware of the constant dangers they had to face, not the least of which was Peter's cover being blown. She sometimes longed to return to the days when she did not know his secret. In her estimation, it was far easier to be angry with Peter than to be afraid for him.
"You're a better person than me," Louise was saying as Mary Jane stared out the window. "I'd be pretty livid if my boyfriend told me to get home by myself."
Mary Jane continued to gaze at the midnight sky, hearing her friend, but not listening. She wondered how Jean was dealing with all this. Did Matt even tell her? she asked herself, imagining that one day, Jean would come to her for advice on how to handle the ups and downs of having a super-hero for a significant other.
On the other hand, Jean was a prosecutor, and who knew how she would react if she ever found out that her boyfriend was half of the infamous Twin Demons. That moniker was a present, courtesy of the Daily Bugle.
And it was not complimentary.
At least Jameson finally acknowledged Daredevil's existence . . .
"Hello. Earth to Mary Jane."
"Huh . . . oh, right . . . sorry, Louise," M.J. answered with a sigh. "I suppose we'll read about what happened in the morning papers."
XXXXXXXXXX
True to Mary Jane's prediction, a story did appear in the next day's New York Times about a raid on an apartment in Greenwich Village, a mere three blocks from where she used to live. The police had been tipped off about an illegal weapons smuggling operation. When they arrived at the scene, they had found two crates of military assault rifles and fifteen gang members bound to the floor and walls with webbing.
But the story was not on the front page, nor had it been covered by any of the networks. It was buried somewhere in the Times's metro section. According to an officer who had taken statements, Spider-Man had been singing a tune from The Rocky Horror Picture Show as he and Daredevil were pounding the hoods into submission. The officer joked that the webslinger's dreadful crooning had facilitated a quick surrender.
CLOSING CREDITS
The Twin Demons saga will continue in a sequel tentatively entitled, Return of Tribbleyard. The new story will also be based on Spider-ManSpider-Man 2, Daredevil - Director's Cut and Hulk, but will be in an alternative universe from Spider-Man 3. However, teasers and trailers will be posted to Twin Demons, so you might want to leave this story on your alert lists. PG-13 versions of Twin Demons will appear on the Fanlib and Marvel Fan Fiction websites.
My deepest and humblest thanks go to Betty Brant and HTBThomas for their outstanding contributions to this story as my beta readers.
I would also like to thank the rest of my brain trust, Jenn 1 and Mark C, whose pointed suggestions and words of encouragement helped get me over some tough humps over these last two years.
Thank you to every one who was kind enough to leave a review, in particular, those who left constructive criticisms. I want you all to know that I took every one of those reviews seriously, even going so far as to make changes based on your suggestions.
Finally, I would like to thank every single person who took the time to read Twin Demons. You've given a novice author the hope and confidence to go on.
