Oh, this is just too much fun to write! I can't tell you people how much enjoyment I'm getting out of this story. Spidey's dark side is just so much fun to write about! Anyway, hope you like this chapter.
MJ's finally in the picture, and let me tall ya, she's going to be playing a bigger part in this one then in any of my other stories before. This is gonna be the one where Pete and MJ's relationship is put to the test. He he he he *laughing evilly*…You want to know what's going to happen, don't you? Well, too bad! You're going to have to wait like everyone else! I just thought I'd give you something to sink your teeth into for now.
So here you go! I worked long and hard on this chapter so enjoy!
Disclaimer: Spidey and all his affiliated posse aren't mine.
Evening had fallen over the city of New York. The dark star covered skies above lay obscured by ominous clouds that rumbled with the threat of rain. A few drops of icy cold water already pattered in soft pinging intervals on the metal roofs of a particular abandoned warehouse complex on the lower east side of Long Island.
The complex sat behind a heavy chain linked fence crowned by double helixes of barbed wire that surrounded about half acre of baron land. All of the warehouses lay under a thick coat of brownish rust from years of neglect. Most should have been condemned years ago, but for whatever reason had not.
Several panes of the small windows that lined the upper part of the thirty foot sides of the warehouses were shattered from gangs of young kids throwing rocks through them. Tall weeds sprouted from between the oil slicked gravel that covered the land in between each of the looming buildings.
Another low rumble of thunder rolled overhead as the first wave of rain finally hit the ground. A chilly gust of wind blew through the lonely complex of decrepit buildings, making the air cold enough to give a preview of the oncoming winter only a month or so away in the future.
But in the last warehouse at the end of the first long row of deserted buildings, the small murmur of voices resonated out from within the darkened structure. A soft glow of light flickered out from one of the broken windows, creating a small beacon of brightness to shine out into the waterlogged night.
Inside that empty warehouse, in the flickering light cast from a single swinging light bulb hung from a steel rafter twenty feet above, stood the shadowy outlines of a group of four men. Their dark shadows stood elongated and distorted against the inner walls of the building. But even distorted and warped, the shadows were inhuman and supernatural. Outlines of wings, a rounded head, snaking tentacles and a continually flickering and sparking form stood like silhouettes against the rusted walls.
Scuffing his feet deliberately through the carpet of dust that had settled on the cold concrete floor of the building, one of the amassed members grumbled, "It's too cold tonight to be out in the rain. I should be home where it's warm. This is stupid. There are many other, more appropriate and comfortable places to hold a meeting like this."
"What's the matter, Vulture? The years catching up to you?" taunted the youngest of the group, his form constantly flickering from spontaneous charges of pure energy that crackled off his form and snaked through the chilly air.
"Easy for you to pass judgment," growled the old man in the green suit of metal feathers and wings defensively, "You've shorted yourself out so many times with that energy of yours, Hothead, I doubt you have any brain cells left to register what cold feels like."
"Watch it, ya' old geezer!" Electro shouted, sparks of lightening leaping from his body to singe the air. Electro knew one clean hit with one of his lightening attacks, he could be having fillet of Vulture for dinner- extra crispy.
Glaring daggers at each other, the two men looked as if they were a second away from jumping at each others throats.
"Gentlemen. Gentlemen," soothed a raspy voice as the man stepped forward, "There are more important things to worry about then this insignificant squabble of yours. There are larger issues at hand. Such as who summoned each of us here tonight."
Giving one last nasty look at the old man, Electro addressed Dr. Octopus who had just broken up his potential fight with Toomes, "Yeah. I just found this note this morning on the door of my apartment saying to meet at this warehouse at midnight. I actually thought it was you, Ock. I thought maybe you were trying to get the Sinister Six back together for another crime spree."
"I thought the same," voiced the last of the men assembled there. Stepping up to the circle of super villains in the center of the warehouse, Mysterio's purple cape fluttered agitatedly behind him as though it sensed its master's inner frustration. "But if it wasn't you, Octavius, then I want to know who called us here. It's already quarter after and there's no sign of this mysterious caller. Who could have known where we were able to be contacted? Do you think that the police are trying to set up an ambush to arrest us?"
"Those fools…I wouldn't give the authorities that much credit. This meeting has to have been orchestrated by someone else," the not so good doctor frowned, his adamantium tentacles dancing to an unheard deadly tune through the air behind him.
"We agree too," suddenly came a new voice just beyond the glow of the lone light in the looming shadows of the warehouse. It was an odd synthesized voice, almost as though two people were speaking at the same time, perfectly matching each other's inflections and emphasis.
Snapping around to face the origin of the voice, the group of convicted criminals were momentarily startled as a dark hulking figure of blackness separated itself from the shadows and stalked into the dim reaches of light. Illuminated by the light, the stenciled design of an outstretched white spider and two flaming eyes shined could be distinguished from the black wall of muscles that made up the newcomer's body. Below those demon like eyes patches, sat twin rows of razor sharp teeth from which a slobbering red Gene Simmons like tongue rolled and licked the air.
"Venom?!" exclaimed Mysterio in disbelief, "Don't tell me you were contacted too."
"We were," answered the symbiote clad photojournalist, Eddie Brock, from around his drool dripping mouth, "We had nothing better to do tonight, and we were curious who would have been foolish enough to try reach us. Once we find this person, we intend to feast on his still pulsating organs."
"Always the charmer, I see," the Vulture murmured quietly to himself. Even a mass murder such as Toomes still could get queasy at the thought of the graphic disembowelment Venom was known for inflicting on his enemies.
"Well, he's not here yet," offered Electro to Venom as he edged warily away from the symbiote's wandering black psudopods.
"And I'm becoming tired of waiting for this person to make himself known," growled Dr. Octavius, cutting himself into the conversation. Unable to stand being pushed out of the limelight of the group, the eight legged man snarled, "I am Doctor Otto Octavius! I will not be kept waiting like some insignificant peon! If this mysterious contactor does not make himself present within the next minute, I will leave!"
To exemplify his frustration and anger, the doctor's metal tentacles pummeled themselves violently into the concrete behind the chubby man's body, creating four craggy craters deep within the warehouse floor.
Seeing one of Octavius' volatile temper tantrums brewing, the others quickly stepped back to put distance between themselves and Dr. Octopus's deadly tentacles. But before the deranged scientist could make any more threats or vent anymore of his frustration, an echoing masculine voice broke the rain pattered silence of the cavernous building. "I can see someone never learned that patience was a virtue."
The voice had come from above. Somewhere from the dancing shadows of darkness above in the crisscrossing rafters that spanned the abandoned warehouse.
"Who's there?" shouted Octavius demandingly, craning his head upward on a squat bull neck.
"Patience. Patience, Doctor," soothed the man far above, "I'll tell you all in good time." It was immediately noticed by the rest of the super powered criminals that Octavius had not appreciated their host's reply.
The consecutive hollow thuds of weight landing on metal sounded from above, the unseen man leaping as gracefully as a cat across the rafters. Finally the black form of a man became apparent as he stepped in front of one of the banks of windows, silhouetted by the slightly lighter backdrop of rain clouds from the other side of the partially shattered glass.
"I'm sorry to keep you waiting, but I was only waiting for the last of my guests arrived," the man said as his dark outline stooped down to crouch on all fours on the thick rafter he stood on. There was something eerily familiar by the stranger's body language that the assembled group of criminals could not quite put a finger on.
"Before we rip your spleen out and eat it, we want to know why you decided to contact us," Venom called out plainly, as though the act of ripping someone's spleen out and eating it was a common, everyday experience.
"I'll get straight to the point. I assume we can all say that we've had ambitions of wealth and power? From my little background search I did the other day on each of you, I'd have to say so," whispered the shadow clad stranger to the group over the dramatic background rumble of thunder and heavy rainfall on the metal shell of a warehouse, "I agree that the only way to make it in this world it to take what you want by force. Unfortunately, I can't say your methods of doing this has actually been successful so far…"
"You will be advised to chose your words carefully," Octavius warned dangerously from below, "We did not come here to be patronized by someone we do not even know."
"Of course…My apologizes," shrugged their host nonchalantly from his perch above, "Anyway, I want power and control just as badly as you gents do. Only I have a plan that will eliminate the one factor that has, without fail, stood in your own personal conquests and stands as a personal obstacle to what I want."
"And what would that be?" questioned Mysterio, the back of his long cape grazing the ground behind him as he leaned back to see the mysterious man high above from behind his obtrusively round and awkward helmet.
"Someone that will not stand a chance against our combined power…Spiderman," the gathered villains' host said to the general murmured responses of hatred for the wall crawler that wafted up to the man far above.
"We've already tried ganging up on him," growled the Vulture, angrily remembering past humiliations suffered at the hands of the web swinging superhero, "It's never worked before. Why should your plan be any better?"
"Because I know secrets about him that none of you have ever or will never know. I know things to do to him that will make him wish he was dead. Things that would make his pathetically trivial heroic existence a living hell," replied the stranger enigmatically to the hushed group of men. Something in the dark manner of speech and tone of their host compelled the villainous group to listen silently to him, completely entranced by his words of cruelty and vengeance.
"If you are so smart, why do you need us?" demanded Dr. Octopus with a snarl.
"Because I know there'll be others to deal with in the near future that will try to stop me. I think you will find them very…familiar. It's so annoying how they persistently come after me. I just can't have any fun when they're around," he answered with yet another hint of secrecy, "I want to toy with Spiderman and make his life miserable before I finally kill him. It'll be so much more fun that way, but I'll need some help to do it."
"But what do you have against the wall crawler? You haven't said anything about that," Electro asked curiously.
"He possesses the one thing I want more then anything: I want his life. Not just his death but his place in society in this world. With him gone, he gives me the perfect place to start an empire of power. No one could stand in my way here once he's gone. Then I can put myself in his place with no one the wiser to the switch. I could do anything then," the man whispered maliciously, already imagining the taste of sweet victory.
"Ummm That's a little bit of a different reason then what I was expecting…" muttered Electro semi-sarcastically, several thousand kilowatts of power sparkling from his body as he pondered just how to take that, "Why do you want Spiderman's…life?"
There came a subdued chuckle of slyness from high above as the stranger stood straight from his crouch. "Let me show you why…" he said before the slim form of the muscular man suddenly somersaulted from his perch on the rafter.
Through the dim light of the single light bulb that hung from another rafter and the glowing radiance of Electro, the confused men standing on the dusty floor of the building could see the man twirl and flip gracefully through the air as though he were a high rise diver doing his routine.
Then, fifteen feet above the ground, a streak of white flew up through the air to snag the underside of the rafter the gymnastic stranger had just leapt from. Sticking there like glue, the strand snapped taunt, it's weaver slowly bobbing to a stop on the elastic like material upside down a good seven feet above the ground in the very center of the startled super villains.
Staring in shock, the startled criminals beheld the crimson and dark blue costume and mask of Spiderman.
"YOU!!!!" screamed Venom savagely as he launched himself at the upside down, swinging body, "We will hallow you out and drink your blood!"
"Paleeeeeze…" Spiderman exclaimed with a condescending sigh and roll of his eyes from behind his mask as the charging bulk of an irate alien symbiote and photographer rushed to meet him like an angry bull. Flipping upright from his strand of webbing, Spiderman somersaulted easily over Venom's head as he barreled past the wall crawler, snaky black psudopods whipping the air like blades.
"Stop this now!" ordered Dr. Octopus suddenly as four metal tentacles whipped into view and each grabbed one of the struggling symbiote's limbs. Hoisting the thrashing man high into the air, the shorter man tossed Venom carelessly aside where he crashed unceremoniously to the floor at the other end of the building.
"Stay out of this, Octavius," snarled Venom lividly as he leapt to his feet, "This is between me and the bug."
"If you had half a brain, you pathetic excuse of a ball of tar, you would realize this is not the Spiderman we all want to see begging for mercy at our hands before we kill him," the doctor shouted angrily, halting Venom from making another charge at the Spiderman look alike, "This couldn't possibly Spiderman. He is nothing more then an imposter."
"For all that fancy college learning, Doc, you're wrong," Spiderman cut in, much to the irritation of the insane scientist.
"What are you saying? You want us to believe you're really Spiderman?" cried the Vulture, his wrinkled, haggard face twisted in distain and disbelief, "That's impossible!"
"I guess this just destroys that saying that we all get wiser the older we get," Spiderman quipped snidely to the old man, putting his hands on his hips cockily.
"Explain yourself then! We can see you have powers similar to the wall crawler, but you can't be him!" Quentin Beck, aka Mysterio, cried in frustration, his cape billowing behind him dramatically. The whole situation was getting out of hand and could at any minute break out into a full scale super powered slugfest.
"I am Spiderman," emphasized the double slowly, "But I'm not from this dimension. I'm an alternate version of the Spiderman you know. I came here through a machine called the Dimensional Transverser from a parallel universe two days ago."
"You're kidding right?" sneered the Vulture, totally unconvinced by the explanation.
"No. I don't think he's lying," Dr. Octopus broke in with interest as he readjusted his dark sunglasses on his nose out of habit, "I've heard of there being such a device constructed. It's at Empire State University, right here in New York city. There was a press release several days ago stating that the scientists developing it had just finished final construction of the device. But trans-dimensional travel is still in its infancy. There wouldn't have been any actual testing complete yet."
"I just didn't feel like waiting around for those scientists to wasting ten years doing meaningless tests on it before starting human testing," Spiderman explained to the stunned group of villains. Grinning in sadistic pride of his crimes, he added, "Unfortunately, one of the two won't be doing anymore research, I'm afraid. He had quite a nasty spill out a window from several stories up…"
"We still don't believe you," hissed Venom, hot drool dripping from the corners of his mouth in massive globs that fell in thick splats on the concrete floor, "This is a trick. You smell just like the wall crawler. The symbiote knows your scent. Your story was interesting but utterly absurd. Did you really think we were going to fall for some fairy tale like that? What were you trying to do? Get us to let our guard down so that you could capture us? We should torture you till you scream for mercy before eating your heart out as punishment for thinking you could trick us."
"He's got a point," Electro pointed out over the fallen hush of the warehouse as rain continued to patter loudly against the metal hull of the building, "Who says this isn't the real Spiderman trying to dup us into thinking he's someone else. The bug's already pulled things like this before to catch us."
"Hold up a second, boys," Spiderman said calmly as he held both hands up in a mock sign of surrender, "Let me ask you; did any of you hear about that little bank bombing this morning?"
"Yeah, five people were killed in that explosion," recalled Mysterio warily, trying to understand what that had to do with anything. Finally, the illusionist remembered another part of the story, "Wait…There were reports of two Spidermen. Are you saying that was you?"
There was a momentary pause from the five gathered criminals as they each in turn looked to the Spiderman look alike that stood in their midst. Evil laughter sounded from behind the scarlet mask before he finally whispered in a low tone, "I wanted to get my other half's attention before everything went to hell for him and this city. He seems to have such a sore spot about killing. It's so pathetic. I hate to admit even having any affiliation with him. No wonder you guys can't stand him and his wastefully heroics."
Spiderman's comment was met with some, needless to say, surprised looks from the group. Reactions ranged from unreadable blank expressions (Mysterio), to narrowed eyes of doubtful wariness (Vulture), to grim frowns of contemplation (Dr. Octopus), to a classic drop jaw, wide eyed stare of disbelief (Electro).
"Are you saying you're not a…hero, for lack of a better word?" asked Mysterio in a whisper.
"As far from it as any of you guys winning the Noble Peace Prize," was the master of illusion's reply. Cocking his head to the side slyly, Spiderman whispered like the devil himself bartering for a soul, "So what do you guys say? Join me and we can be running this city in less then a week. Minus one pesky superhero wannabe of course. I can become your best buddy if you let me. Why fight each other when we can work together and rule the world? Once my insignificant other is out of the way, the rest of these "heroes" that seem to plague your dimension will be nothing but child's play to our combined forces. Think of all the wealth and power we could have. Isn't that what we all want? We could be gods…"
There was another moment of tense silence as Electro, Vulture, Dr. Octopus, Mysterio, and Venom all exchanged glances. In each of their eyes shined the same unspeakable question: Were they hallucinating? Was Spiderman actually asking them to join up with him and help him destroy their worst enemy?
Breaking the soft, rain pattered silence, Dr. Octopus spoke in a dangerous tone, "It is only out of sheer curiosity that I will agree to hear your plan. I want to see that insect suffer and not without myself being part of it. But be advised; if I find out that you have tried in any way to deceive us, I will rip each of your appendages off one at a time then leave what's left of your twitching body to my associates to do with as they please."
"I can see we're going to get along great, Ock," Spiderman replied, snidely ignoring Octavius' threats. Swiveling his hooded head to glance in the direction of the other villains, Spiderman asked plainly, "And what about you guys? Interested in filling in the last couple spots for the new and improved 'Sinister Six'?"
Again looks were exchanged. Electro's outlined flickered nervously with small sparks of energy as his eyes locked with what he assumed was Spiderman's own beneath the gleaming white eyepieces of his mask. "I guess I'm in…" the human powerhouse muttered, subconsciously shivering under the blank stare of the wall crawler. Something unspeakable screamed in the electrified man that this newcomer was more dangerous than any of the other criminals and mass murders gathered there.
Cocking his head to look at the Vulture next, Spiderman questioned, "And what about you?"
Narrowing his wrinkled eyes at the costumed man, Toomes rasped, "There are only two things in life that I care about: money and revenge. And your plan encompasses both. I'm in."
"And I," Mysterio conceded with a nod of his round head as he grabbed a handful of his fluttering cape and swept it across his body with dramatic flare, "Spiderman will never stand up to all of us."
Venom's demonic white eyes glared at Spiderman in silence. The wavering black tentacles of the symbiote slowly undulated the air as if in indecision. Growling through his needle filled mouth, Venom snarled, "We do not want power or money, just Spiderman's death. We have laid claim to the bug's still beating heart a long time ago. You may keep you blood money, but we will help destroy Spiderman."
"That's what I like to hear," Spiderman chirped with sadistic mirth, clapping his gloved hands together in a show of finality. Low thunder rumbled overhead at that moment, as if sealing the deal.
"Uh…One question though," Electro spoke up suddenly to the questioning glances of the others, "What were you talking about before when you said there were others we'd have to worry about? Did anybody else come to this dimension with you?"
Another roll of thunder crashed from outside in the turbulent stormy night. Bobbing his masked head agitatedly at the question, Spiderman noticeably tensed. Taking in every one of the villains with a seeping glance of his shining bug eyes, Spiderman whispered over the pounding of rain on the metal hull of the warehouse, "Your own alternate versions…"
********
Mary Jane Watson glanced absentmindedly out of habit at the passing display window of the Sears department store she and Peter strolled past. The mannequins on the other side of the thick glass of the display were dressed in varying combinations of the same style of clothes in the latest fall color combination; red and orange. The mannequins had all been positioned so that it looked like a group of friends were walking through a park, the backdrop of a multicolored leaf-strewn path completed the image, it hanging against the far back wall of the display.
"Aren't those colors pretty together, Peter?" MJ asked, wrapping her arm affectionately into Peter's so that the two walked side by side, joined at the elbows. There was a moment of silence before MJ realized Peter had zoned out and hadn't even heard her. Glancing up, she noticed that distant look in his blue eyes she was so used to that said he was a million miles away, lost in thought.
Waving her free hand only a few inches in front of his nose up and down feverously, Mary Jane called out playfully, "Hello! Earth to Peter. Come in Peter Parker!"
"Huh? What were you saying?" the young man startled, breaking himself back into awareness. Sighing, Peter muttered, "Sorry about that. I was just thinking."
"Obviously," she smiled, giving him a playful gab in his ribs that lay protected under Peter's heavy black pea coat with her elbow. But instead of receiving any reaction from Peter, MJ saw that he again looked forward to stare down the street. Frowning at his almost sad face, MJ ventured, "Are you still worrying about that bank bombing yesterday, Tiger?"
"Yeah," came his bland response, hanging his head to stare at the ground as the two continued walking down the busy downtown streets of Manhattan, "I…I don't know what to do or even think about all this--I mean this guy looked exactly like me." Helplessness tainted the boy's voice as he tore his eyes away from the still wet sidewalk from the rainstorm the night before and looked into Mary Jane's green eyes, imploring nonexistent answers.
"So he had a good Halloween costume. That doesn't mean anything. He's just another maniac that wants to ruin your reputation…"
"No. MJ, you don't understand. This guy was sticking to the walls just like me! He could shoot webbing!" whispered Peter back to her, trying to keep his voice low enough so that none of the passing pedestrians that shared the sidewalk with them could overhear their conversation of the city's newest most wanted suspected criminal.
"Peter, are you serious?" she exclaimed in disbelief, "Could there be another person out there with the same powers as you?"
"I…I don't know. I just don't know," the young photographer murmured quietly, "I mean, the whole idea of another person being bitten by a genetically engineered spider is just too much to believe. Do you realize the odds of that happening? But even if there is another guy out there with powers like mine, why did he want my attention so bad that he killed all those innocent people in that bank?"
Unable to give an answer, Mary Jane could only give Peter's arm a reassuring squeeze. Flipping her long red hair from off her shoulders to hang down her back in contrast to her knee length hunter green coat, MJ pondered the situation. She had heard all the news reports from the day before. Even the day after, the bombing was still the top story of every news station and paper in the tri-state area. She knew there had been reports of two Spidermen being seen at the bank, but details were still up to debate and speculation.
The fledging model/actress may have had the biggest inside scoop to the story, but Peter had revealed nothing to her the night before when she had seen the first report and immediately called to see if he was alright. Even over the phone, MJ could sense Peter had been distant and lost. She knew he needed to talk and sort out his problems, but he had only repeated time after time despite her persistent nudging that he was fine and would talk it over with her the next day over lunch. But something in Peter's voice told MJ right then and there that he was not going to reveal everything, no matter how much she wanted him to confide in her.
"What did he say to you?" she asked curiously, "Did he say what he wanted or why he was doing that?"
Peter didn't answer her immediately. Unbeknownst to him, MJ had been right the whole time that he was not prepared to tell her everything. Even several months since MJ revealed her knowledge of his secret identity as Spiderman and the two had become an official item, Peter still thought their relationship together was potentially dangerous to Mary Jane's safety. The last thing he wanted to do was to put the love of his life in harm's way.
"Ummm No. He didn't say anything to me," Peter muttered unconvincingly to the gorgeous red head that hung from his arm.
Glaring at him skeptically, MJ said, "Peter…I know you're not telling me everything." The guilty look that crossed over the boy's face at that moment proved MJ's point without her having to say anything else. Suddenly stopping dead in her tracks, Peter ungracefully stumbled several paces forward before swinging around from his momentum on their hooked elbows to stare back at her.
Looking him straight in the eyes, MJ whispered quietly to him, "I know you're not telling me everything, but I'm not going to push you. I know you'll tell me everything when you're ready. Just promise me, Tiger, that you'll talk to me whenever you need to. I want to help you out, but I can't if you won't let me. I know you don't want to get me involved with your…night life, but you can't keep me in the dark forever. I want to help you, Peter. I'm here for you. Just please come and talk to me whenever you decide you can."
Peter gazed into those brilliant green eyes that burned into his soul, contemplating what Mary Jane was saying to him. Deep down he knew he couldn't involve her. It was too dangerous. Even still, he took a deep breath and whispered his placating lie, "I will. I promise, MJ, I'll tell you everything. But just not now."
"That's all I need to know," she smiled back at him, convinced by his sincerity. Starting up again at a slow walk, the two continued down the crowded downtown sidewalk in silence. As they walked together, Peter could feel that distinct feeling of guilt welling up in the pit of his stomach. He hated lying. But it was for MJ's safety, he kept rationalizing. She didn't need to live her life burdened with Spiderman's problems. The less she knew, the safer she was.
Turning a corner, the couple walked in silence before Peter remembered something and exclaimed, "Oh, MJ! If you don't mind, could we make a quick stop over at the Bugle before going to lunch? I need to drop off some photos."
"I don't care," she smiled and in a teasing tone added, "You probably need the money, don't you? Landlord giving you grief about past rent?"
"More than you know…" he smiled back, forgetting of Spiderman's problems. He would worry about them later. Right now, he was determined to enjoy his day out with his girlfriend. "It's not too far from here."
Cuddling closer to him as a large mass of pedestrians spilled out from the mouth of a subway entrance and flowed around the content couple, MJ replied, "That's fine. Even if its cold and rainy today, I like walking around with you. It's be a nice sidetrack. I've always wanted to see the inner workings of a newspaper. It's not like we're in a hurry to go anywhere or meet anybody today…"
*********
Peter Parker stalked down the narrow walkways that separated the closely packed desks of the Daily Bugle city room. He walked with an arrogant stride, shoulders set back and chest puffed out proudly from behind his solid black sweater and jean coat. Flicking away a comma of dark brown hair that had fallen over his eye, Peter scowled the bustling newsroom.
There at the far end of the long room, Betty Brant sat at her secretary desk just in front of the door to J. Jonah Jameson's office. Even from half way across the room, Peter could see her talking urgently into the receiver of her telephone, rapidly tapping the tip of her pen on a stack of papers agitatedly as she did so.
Letting a sly smile creep across his face, the young photographer pushed his way past a small group of milling reports to stood in his way, almost making one of them drop his steaming cup of coffee on the floor as Peter shoved past.
Not paying any heed to the angry yell warning him to watch where he was going, Peter slid gracefully up beside Betty's desk and sat himself comfortably on the edge of the meticulously organized desk. Glancing down at the busy secretary, Peter could hear the muffled murmur of speech drift up to his ears from the receiver.
Looking up to the waiting photographer while flashing a smile, Betty shot her pointer finger up into the air in the direction of the ceiling, pleading Peter to hold on for a few moments while she finished. Pulling the receiver a few inches from her mouth, Betty mouthed silently, "One minute. Important call."
As she glanced back down to the legal notebook before her and jotted down a few more notes across the etched lines, Peter's face contorted in an angry scowl and narrowed eyes. No one made him wait…ever. She had no idea of who she was dealing with.
Reaching his hand out across the desk, Peter's pointed finger crashed down on the cradle button of the phone, abruptly ending Betty's phone conversation with a sharp 'click'.
"Hey! Pete, what're you doing!" she demanded in surprise, snapping her head up to stare at the young man perched on the edge of her desk.
Peter's face retained its death stare of disapproval a moment longer at the startled receptionist before slowly melting into a forced smile of politeness. "You can get back to your phone conversation right after you tell me where Jameson is," he rasped forcefully, leaning over the desk top to come eye to eye with Betty, his face only a foot away from hers.
Taken aback by her friend's uncharacteristic manners and becoming increasingly uncomfortable by Peter's deliberate invasion of her personal space, Betty stammered, "He's coming back from a meeting…he should be back any--"
"Parker?! Is that you?!" bellowed a sudden voice over the loud background noise of the city room. Glancing over his shoulder with an annoyed frown, Peter saw the form of the Bugle's grouchy editor bee lining towards him from across the room.
Alighting from the corner of Betty's desk, Peter strided over to meet Jameson halfway while calling out, "Just the man I wanted to see."
"Good, cause I've been looking for you Parker!" Jameson snarled nastily, puffing a large cloud of cigar smoke from the corner of his mouth to billow up and obscure his grimacing face in a haze smog, "I want to know why you haven't had any pictures of that wall crawling menace, Spiderman, lately. I don't know if you're aware of this, Parker, but he just killed five people yesterday when he robbed that bank downtown! And I had no pictures to go with the story. We had to use an old print from two months ago! Do you know how bad that is? People want new pictures to go with their stories, not something they've already seen!"
By this time, the irate editor had worked himself into an even greater tizzy then normal and was shouting a full lung capacity within an inch of the young photographer's stony face, his ever present cigar mere centimeters from grazing Peter's nose with its smoldering ashes.
Wrinkling his nose up in disgust and insult, Peter's eyes flared with barely held back anger that boiled beneath his skin. Checking himself against the urge to snap the old man's head around backwards with one swift punch to his jaw, the boy gritted his teeth together. How dare this grizzled old man speak to him this way. He was going to deserve everything that was coming to him. But Jameson could wait. He had bigger fish to fry first, and Jameson was necessary.
Mentally bumping Jameson to the very top of his list, Peter suppressed a growl and stated very slowly in a low voice while Jameson paused for breath, "If you mind getting out of my face and shutting your big mouth for one second, then I'll show you what I decided to bring in to you today."
Not expecting this sudden show of backbone in his normally passive freelance photographer, the editor was startled into silence as he stared wide eyed at Peter.
Giving a sly smirk of dominance, Peter pulled from his black backpack that was slung from one shoulder, a folder that he tossed carelessly at the older man with a flick of his wrist. Fumbling for the folder as it crashed against his chest, Jameson managed to catch it before it fell to the floor.
Partially recovering from Peter's sudden disrespect, the cigar smoking editor, torn away the front cover of the folder with a huff. There was a moment of silence as his eyes widened, his greedy eyes scanning the small stack of photos he found inside intensely. Shifting through them almost in disbelief he muttered in awe, "Parker…These photos…They actually show Spiderman crushing in some guy's skull!"
"I take it you like them…?" the young photographer whispered with a smirk.
"Like them? Parker, these are probably the best photos you've ever brought in of that mask wearing criminal! Now I can destroy his name for good!" Jonah exclaimed almost joyously, "I'll give you two hundred for all six of these."
Turning towards his office still staring transfixidly at the incriminating Spiderman pictures with the biggest grin anyone in the history of the Daily Bugle had ever seen on Jameson's normally scowling face, the editor once again shuffled through the photos as if they pure gold.
"I want three times that," came a demand from behind the editor's retreating body.
Thinking he had misheard what Peter had just said, Jameson slowly turned back to the young man with a raised eyebrow of surprise. "What's the matter, Parker? It's your normal freelance pay. Two hundred is the standard," he said from around the cigar that hung from the corner of his mouth.
"Six hundred, Jamie. Take it or leave it. I'm sure some other newspapers like the Daily Globe would pay me even more if I took those pictures there," Peter grinned slyly, knowing exactly how much the editor hated that rival paper and how badly he wanted those Spiderman pictures. How he absolutely loved toying with people…
Glaring openly at the boy, Jameson snarled as he glanced again down at the graphic 8x11 glossy photos of a helpless bank teller's death at the hands of Spiderman. He wanted these pictures now more then anything else. They showed without the slightest doubt that the tight wearing wall crawler was, like he'd been trying to tell the city for months, a dangerous cold blooded killer He knew he couldn't let Peter sell them to another paper.
Huffing in defeat, the aging man hissed, "Fine. Six hundred…"
"Great," Peter grinned with a small chuckle of victory towards the seething editor, "I'm sure these will make Spiderman everyone's number one enemy…"
*********
"I'll only be a few minutes, MJ," Peter reassured as he lead the red head cautiously through the teeming city room of the Daily Bugle, "I just need to drop off some photos from some charity concert and then we can go to lunch."
"Wow," Mary Jane whistled in amazement as she took in the bustling newsroom and all its hurried writers and reporters scrambling to finish their stories before their deadlines. "This place reminds me of a bee hive with how busy these guys are…" she observed as a group of reporters hurried past them.
"Yeah…and wait until you meet the queen bee. Jameson's bark is almost as bad as his sting," Peter joked as Betty Brant's desk came into view. Nearing it, Peter gave a little wave as he and MJ stepped up beside the young secretary who tapped away feverously at her computer.
Looking up at her guests, Betty's normally smiling face sagged into a frown as she saw Peter. "Thanks a lot, Pete," she growled at him as she swiveled in her computer chair and thrust an accusing finger at him, "I just lost a great scoop for an expose I'm working on that could have gotten me out of this secretarial job. Because of your rude interruption, my source won't return any of my calls." Huffing, she wheeled her back to Peter to again pound away angrily at the keyboard.
Totally confused, Peter gave MJ a perplexed look. "Ummm, Betty. I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered in confusion.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about. You came in here less than fifteen minutes ago and rudely," emphasizing the word with venom, "interrupted my phone call."
"Betty, I just got here," insisted the perplexed photographer, his hands outstretched to the side in helplessness. What was she talking about?
Glaring out of the corner of her eye, the angry receptionist was about to say something else just before Jameson decided to emerge from his cigar smoke clogged office. Puffing a plume of smoke from around the thick roll of tobacco sticking from his mouth, the surly editor locked gazes with Peter. Snorting twin jets of smoke from out both nostrils angrily as he stalked towards the young man, Peter had the sickening feeling he was suddenly in the path of a charging bull.
"Parker? What the hell are you doing back here?" he growled irritably as he towered over the startled photographer, "I've had enough of your disrespect for one day! If it wasn't for those Spiderman pictures you just sold me, I would fire you right here and now! No one talks to me like the way you did before!"
"What are you talking about?" Peter cried in exasperation, now becoming somewhat frightened by all this. "I just came here to sell you some pictures of that charity concert the other day in Central Park! I haven't sold you any Spiderman pictures for about a week!"
"Like hell you didn't!" Jameson barked in Peter's face, "I just paid you six hundred dollars only fifteen minutes ago for those great pictures of Spiderman being the murdering fiend I've always said he is! I'm not going to pay you for anymore pictures!"
"What pictures are you talking about?" Peter asked timidly, "I already said I haven't sold you any Spiderman pictures lately."
"I'll show you which ones I'm talking about," the editor hissed in determination as he disappeared into his office and emerged only seconds later with a manila folder clasped in his burly hand. Shoving the folder at the boy's chest, Jameson waited quietly as Peter leafed through the prints.
Peter's eyes grew wide in horror as he scanned the six glossy colored photos. The photos were from the bank bombing the day before and were arranged in chronological order. The first couple showed two different angled shots of Spiderman holding a struggling bank teller several feet off the ground by the throat, the man's face a vivid shade of blue and foam frothing at his mouth. The next two were of the brightly dressed wall crawler violently twisting the man's neck so that it faced straight behind him, and then one of the costumed man's clenched fist in the motion of hammering down against the unidentified teller's skull. The last was of Spiderman standing over the fallen body that lay at his feet, a dark puddle of blood pooling around the masked killer's scarlet booted feet.
"Oh, my god," Peter cried, covering his mouth with his hand, shocked and appalled at what he saw on the glossy paper spread out in his hands. Horror clenched his stomach as Jameson grabbed the photos back from him. "Mr. Jameson, you can't run these pictures!" Peter exclaimed, "This isn't Spiderman! He would never do anything like this! This has to be that imposter Spiderman that bombed the bank yesterday."
"Listen, kid," the editor growled shoving his finger in Peter's face dangerously, "I'll make the stories and the headlines and you just get me the pictures. You didn't seem to have this voice of conscience when you sold them to me before! And anyway, I've already sent down orders for those pictures to be on the front page of tomorrow's morning edition."
"But it wasn't me!" Peter cried in frustration as Jameson turned and stalked away across the city room without even hearing the boy's final attempt at convincing him of his innocence. No one in the bustling newsroom seemed to take any notice of the flustered young man. Wheeling around to look at MJ who had stood on the sidelines the whole time listening, Peter looked as if he was about to cry in frustration.
"What's going on, Tiger?" MJ asked worriedly, hurriedly walking up to where he stood staring into space in shock.
"I don't know!" he wailed helplessly, "It's like some Twilight Zone episode! Jameson thinks I just sold him some pictures of Spiderman killing someone from that bank yesterday!"
"But you were with me all morning," MJ confirmed as Peter's perplexed look deepened,
"This can't be happening…" the confused boy muttered, fear tainting his voice, "Why do they think It was me though? No one else was in that bank to take those pictures except for me, the hostages, and…" Trailing off, Peter felt his stomach drop to his feet, realization hitting him harder then one of Venom's right jabs to the jaw.
"What is it?" MJ asked in concern, to Peter's unhearing ears.
Staring away into space, Peter shook his head in disbelief. "Oh, my god…He looks like me…" the boy muttered in shock as understanding fell over him, "He just doesn't have the same powers as me,…he is me."
Through Peter's head echoed his murderous double's words. I just wanted you to know who's going to make your life a living nightmare, then kill you…I know all about you…You're going to have to learn to beat yourself at your own game if you want to live…
************
Oh, no! Things don't look good for our hero right now. Things can't possibly get any worst, right? WRONG!!! Peter's little white lie to MJ before is going to get her into a heap of trouble later on…Evil-Spidey's moving in with the other bad asses of NY, but where's the good versions of Spidey's enemies? Guess we'll have to wait till next chapter…but it may be awhile though. "Screams of the Spider" is getting a little lonely and I need to give equal attention to both my babies. So drop a review and I'll see you around later!
Signing out
-LAXgirl