"This is Trish Tilby, for CNBC. I'm standing in front of what was the scene of a ferocious battle between the vigilantes Spider-Man and Daredevil, the supervillains Hobgoblin and Jack O' Lantern, and the combined forces of the Kingpin and Don Fortunato this morning. As you can see, the building's superstructure has been almost completely destroyed, and the contents have been burned to a crisp, along with several members of both gangs. This incident does not seem to bode well for the future of this city, but we can only hope that this assessment is wrong, even after taking into account the rising crime in the city. There has been speculation, also, that this battle was drug related, and we have a member of the clean-up crew here with us to try and confirm that. Mr. Ellison, what can you tell us about what you found in there?"
"Well, there was traces of liquid heroin in the ashes, pints of the stuff. I don't know how much there was in total, but it must have been a couple tons at least. I'd like to run into the guys who brought this in so's I could tell what I think of 'em. My kids are just starting high school, and if they ever got mixed up in this stuff, I don't know what I'd do. What kind of sicko uses this stuff to get rich off of other people's suffering?"
"Thanks for your time, Mr. Ellison. I hope your children stay safe. We can only hope. Once again, I'm Trish Tilby, for CNBC news. Back to you in the studio, Jeff -" The Kingpin clicked off the television set in disgust. "We can only hope indeed, Ms Tilby. I want this town for my organization, and what the Kingpin wants, he usually gets. Whether that's with or without Fortunato's blood on my hands makes little difference to me, but it might make a world of difference to you..."
Fortunato curled his lip. "Giacomo, I lost a lot of good men on that botch job. I hope the Kingpin's feeling the pinch as much as I am."
Jimmy Six nodded, rubbing his stubbled chin. "I do too, Dad - we sure showed him who's gonna be boss in this town. But you know what gets me? If it hadn't been for the Hobgoblin and that Jack O' Lantern freak, we'da had that job finished before the Kingpin's own goombas had gotten off a single shot." Fortunato snorted.
"Don't flatter yourself, Giacomo. Those soldiers I sent with you weren't exactly Special Forces material. They'd have made a mess of it whatever had happened, I promise you that. No, the real problem here is: who decided to try and put himself between myself and the Kingpin with such powerful hired help at his side? I had thought Hammerhead wasn't trying to expand at this point - and even if he was, I doubt he could have the foresight to hire two superpowered thugs like the Hobgoblin and the Jack O' Lantern. I think we have a new player on the board, Giacomo - one who doesn't know his place. I think we're going to have to find this upstart and teach him some manners, don't you?" Jimmy Six smiled nastily and cracked his knuckles one by one.
"Sounds like a plan to me, Dad."
The Rose watched the news broadcast and smiled beneath his mask. Things were progressing quite nicely. Soon he'd have no trouble usurping the two major crime syndicates as they fought over scraps of turf like rats in a trash can. It would be entirely easier than he'd suspected, and he liked the sound of that. Yes.
The Bugle newsroom was a flurry of noise and jostling bodies as Peter emerged from the lift. He could almost smell the newsprint as he wandered towards JJJ's office and the darkroom nearby. As he did so, he saw Betty Brant and Ben Urich standing apart from the crowd, Betty's face telling him all he needed to know about her mood. She looked worried. As he neared them, he overheard why.
"Are you sure that was really Roderick Kingsley in that Hobgoblin suit?" she asked, her face pale and anxious. Peter could imagine why she'd want to make sure. Kingsley had duped her late husband into being the Hobgoblin on a number of occasions, and given the frequency with which other versions of the Goblin motif seemed to return from the dead, Peter could well understand why she might think that Ned Leeds had return too. He recalled when Kingsley had first shown his ugly yellow mask around New York again. Betty had almost had conniptions when she thought Ned had returned, and this was no different - and frankly, Peter didn't blame her. Ben put his hand on her shoulder, and gripped it tightly.
"It wasn't Ned, kid," he said softly. "I can tell you that much - Daredevil was there at the docks too, and he confirmed it for me. Now I know you probably don't trust the word of a guy who runs around Hell's Kitchen in ketchup-colored tights, but you can trust me when I tell you DD ain't one to lie, Betty." Peter coughed gently, and Betty and Ben turned quickly, their attention diverted (gratefully so, in both their cases, Peter thought).
"I need to develop some pictures, Ben," he said, holding up a small film case. "My camera's a heap of junk right now thanks to some maggia guy's stray bullet, but I managed to salvage about half the film. There are some good shots here, I think, if you want them." Ben grinned.
"Good work, kid. Go on in - I don't think anyone else is using the dark room right now, so you ought to have a free ride." He nodded towards JJJ's office. "Better steer clear of the big guy, though - word has it Marla's trying out some new-age bull on him to help him quit 'those damn cigars' of his. It's done nothing but make him even crankier."
"I don't know how you even notice the difference, Ben," Peter laughed. "I'll bear that in mind, though." He looked over at Betty. "You going to be okay?" Betty raised an eyebrow.
"Sure," she said. "Just because I asked Ben a few questions about the raid this morning, doesn't mean I'm coming apart at the seams. I appreciate the thought, Peter, but if I need a shoulder to cry on, let me come to you, all right?" She kissed him on the cheek. "You're such a good man, Peter - I don't know why I let you go."
"Bad bathroom habits, wasn't it?" Peter grinned. "All right, Betty. I get the message. I gotta go develop film, so I'll see you later, okay?"
Betty nodded. "Sure," she said again. "I'll be around."
Peter moved as quickly as he could through the throng of people and towards the vacant darkroom. Once inside, he brought out the undamaged half of the film that he had retrieved from the remains of his camera at the dockside. He developed the salvageable pictures, keeping the ones with the mysterious stranger to one side. He thought that he'd keep those for himself so that he could study them further, and perhaps try to analyze them to try and ascertain who the man was under the mask. Other than those, he had some really good shots of the gangs, the drugs, and, most excitingly, the Hobgoblin. It was strange, though - he was sure that the Jack O' Lantern had to have been in some of the shots (there was one shot, for instance, where the Hobgoblin was reeling from some sort of attack, but no visible assailant was present). The Jack O' Lantern must have been able to refract the light around his costume somehow, in order to make himself effectively invisible. Peter didn't know whether to be impressed or unnerved by that.
When he'd finished with his photographs, Peter left the dark room and almost ran straight into Robbie, who had loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar, and was drinking black coffee from a plain blue mug. "Good morning, Peter," he said, taking a sip of the steaming liquid as Peter handed him the packet of photographs. "These are to go with Ben's story, correct?"
"Yeah," Peter replied. "I think I got some really good shots here - the only thing that worries me is that Jonah's going to freak when he sees Spidey's involved."
Robbie nodded, rifling through the packet of photos with his thumb. "I agree, Peter - these are good. I'm assuming that since Spider-Man's in these pictures, he tipped you off to this?"
Peter shrugged. "Well, it wasn't him this time - for a change. It was Daredevil - Spidey hangs around with him a lot, and you know they shared this bust. He thought that since I knew Spider-Man, I ought to let him know about it. He said it would beat swinging around Manhattan Island trying to find him." Robbie smiled.
"Is that right?" he said. "Well, the man has sense, I'll give him that. He trusted you that much?"
"Must be my boyish good looks," Peter replied. "Look, Robbie, can I leave these pictures with you? I need to get home to MJ. She's been hassling me to model for her design sketches, and I don't want to let her down." The crow's-feet at the edges of Robbie's eyes crinkled as he smiled widely.
"You'll cherish these moments when you're my age, Peter, I promise you that."
Peter returned Robbie's grin. "I already do, Robbie. I'll see you later." He slipped the packet of photos into Robbie's free hand and left the Bugle offices, after making sure to say goodbye to Betty and Ben first, before moving up to the Bugle's roof and changing into his Spidey gear, webbing his clothes up into a web-package as he did so.
The Kingpin dialed the phone on his desk, and the ring tone on the other end of the line was replaced by a gruff Italian-American voice. "Hello?" it said brusquely.
"Don Fortunato?" Fisk said shortly. "We have to settle this, you and I. That news broadcast was the last thing either of us needed. We could do without hairspray-addled reporters sneaking around our affairs, don't you agree?"
"Fisk," Fortunato said, as if he had just scraped something distasteful off the bottom of his Gucci loafers. "Much as I hate to admit it, I agree with you about this whole affair. What do you want to do about it?"
"A meeting," Fisk said shortly. "On neutral ground, outside Manhattan, in two days' time. We need to settle this war once and for all, and we can't do that with the eyes of the whole city on us."
"No, we can't." Fortunato's voice sounded deflated, as if the old man had conceded to the inevitable. "All right, Fisk. You have your meeting. Where do we meet?"
"I'd suggest somewhere quite a way away from here," Fisk said, rubbing his chin. "The city limits north of here seems like an appropriate choice - we'll both be away from our bases, and we'll be able to get there easily enough. I have no bases there, and so far as I know - and I know a lot, Don Fortunato, believe me - neither do you. What do you say? Do we have an agreement?"
There was an audible sound on the other end of the line, that sounded like a sigh. Fortunato paused for another moment before agreeing. "All right, Kingpin. You have your deal. But rest assured, if I do not get to keep what is mine, you'll pay."
Fisk laughed. "I'm sure if you keep believing that, old man, it'll make you feel a lot better. Good day." He pressed a button on his desk, and the lithe, statuesque form of Delilah sashayed into his office. "Prompt as usual, Delilah? Good. I have a job for you - I need your protection at the meeting between Fortunato and myself that I've just arranged." Delilah shrugged her shoulders, the muscles rippling beneath her skin.
"Oooh," she said huskily. "Does this mean I get to break things?"
"Indeed, my dear," the Kingpin replied. "I neglected to mention - Fortunato will not be leaving this meeting of ours alive."
Delilah smiled, her lips forming a seductive Cupid's-bow shape. "Just what I needed to hear."
Mad Jack smiled as he heard Delilah's words through the minute bug he had planted a few hours earlier. He slapped another tiny, almost transparent bug on the wall of the office that he was floating by. He floated past a security camera and waved to it condescendingly. It stared blindly back at him, its cyclopean eye unable to see even the faintest trace of him. Time for me to get this information back to me boss, he thought. Don't want to keep the little power-freak waiting, now do we?
Peter let go of the last thin strand of webbing and somersaulted a few times before finding a quiet alleyway in which to change into his civvies. He buttoned up his shirt and pulled on his boots and trousers, before walking towards his house with his hands in his pockets, thinking about how he was going to spend the rest of the day. He congratulated himself on actually saving the afternoon for himself and his wife, but as soon as he neared his home, he saw, concealed in one of the trees near his home, the stranger in black. Figures, he thought. Quickly, he sprinted over to where the mystery man sat, and asked, "What are you doing here?"
"I have a message for you, Peter," the other man said. "I have a lead on Kaine. Apparently the big lug is running loose in Canada right now - and where Kaine goes, I figure your daughter isn't far away. I'll keep you posted."
"You better, pal," Peter said, with a reluctant smile. Then something struck him, and he said, curiously, "Daredevil said something about working with you again. What was that all about?" The black-clad man tapped the side of his nose, as if to say that that was off-limits.
"We worked together before on a free day. Leave it at that, all right?" He pointed behind Peter, and continued, "Looks like your significant other is up and about, Peter. She looks like she could do with a hug. Go get her." Peter turned for a moment to see MJ opening the back door and raising the venetian blinds in order to let the sunlight in more fully. He grinned, and then turned back to wish his visitor goodbye - only to find that he had disappeared. Huh, he thought in disbelief. I thought only pointy-eared detectives were allowed to do that! Shelving that mystery for a while, he moved quickly over to the doorway, where he goosed MJ gently, before drawing her close for a long, tender kiss.
"You're back early," MJ said breathlessly. "Did you sell those pictures?"
"All of them," Peter said, with a grin. "Looks like we can eat this month, after all." MJ snapped her fingers.
"Talking of food, Peter, I made some sandwiches for you for when you got back. I thought you'd need protein to heal that shoulder of yours, so I got the best beef I could, and spiced it with that relish I know you like. How does that sound?"
Peter raised an eyebrow. "What do I have to do in return?"
MJ smiled, and slipped her arms around his waist again. "Well... you have the afternoon off... I have the afternoon off... we both have nowhere to go... you can model for me, like I asked you to."
Peter groaned.
Suddenly getting bed rest seemed like a very good idea.