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Maximum Vengeance - Chapter 2
"Um- Excuse me? Um, S-Sir? Sir?"
With the help of a map of Chicago after changing, it hadn't taken Spider- Man long to web-swing through the city to the location of Mendella's building. It was a nice, sleek-looking structure, two stories high, located on the West Side of the city.
"Sir! Sir!"
He had also figured the best way to get to Mendella would be to walk in the front door.
"Stop!"
When he entered, he ignored the receptionist.
Just like he ignored the door sign marked "AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY". Spider-Man was vaguely aware that the receptionist was picking up the phone and dialing security. Good, he suddenly thought as he looked at the dozen doors of the new hall he was in. It looked like he was going to need the guides. He took several more experimental steps through the off-limits area.
His spider-sense tingled. Spider-Man ignored it. Immediately, two burly, uniformed guards appeared from either side of him. Each one grabbed one of his arms, holding him tightly, and Spider-Man allowed himself to be stopped.
"What's the matter?" one asked. "Can't read?"
"You kiddin', Chuckles?" Spider-Man asked. "I'm a proud graduate of 'Hooked On Phonics', I am. I just wanted to talk to your boss. I kind of figured this was the easiest way to get to him. What's the matter? Was I wrong?"
"Real wrong. I know who you are, Pal, but even Captain America ain't getting in here without-"
"-knocking your lights out first? Listen, Guys, I don't want to have to do that, and you both know I could. I can lift a car. You're not going to be much trouble. Now I just want to know where Mendella's at-"
"He's not here," the first guard said.
"Strike one, Bud. Now don't feed me that line. I know he came to Chicago. I followed him here," Spider-Man said. It was a bit of a bluff, but they didn't look too bright anyway. "I want to talk to him about a little something called- Well, heck. It's not like he probably keeps you guys updated on his evil schemes. I'll just say it again: Where's Mendella?"
The guards looked at each other. Spider-Man smiled under his mask. He could almost hear the gears working in their heads. They had to know he was right. They weren't a match for him. If they were intimidated enough-
The second guard sighed. "You need to go to the third floor."
"Is that where the good Doctor Mendella is?"
"Yeah. Yeah, that's where he is."
"Oh, good! I guessed right!" Spider-Man said. "Now what do I get for winning? Well, heck. Tell you what: I'm so excited I'll just give you guys something."
The next sound was a loud 'thwip', followed by the curses of the guards who were pinned to the walls by the gray adhesive Spider-Man liked to call his Webbing. Spider-Man moved past them, tipping an imaginary hat as he did. "Thanks again, Guys. You've been great."
And with that, Spider-Man ran for the stairs. Once within the stairwell he fired a new strand of webbing directly upwards, attaching it to the ceiling three floors higher. He grabbed it, test-pulled, and them climbed. It was easier than exhausting his little legs on all those stairs, after all.
On the third floor, he leaped off his web-line and through the door, entering his final destination: A well-lit hall with a nice Persian carpet. There were only a few doors, each with a name on a gold plaque. It had to be the floor for executive offices.
He walked down the hall and read the names as he went. Vincent Mendella's was the last one in the line. He smiled. Now, how to enter? Well-
The door broke into fifty pieces. Spider-Man stepped inside.
Folded his arms. "Yoo-hoo. Doctor Mendella? Is there a doctor in the house?"
An ashen-faced Doctor Vincent Mendella had been sitting in a large armchair, facing the window behind his desk and talking on the phone, when Spider-Man took his first step inside. He spun around with wide eyes and a slackened jaw. It took several moments for him to regain composure and remember that he had a phone in hand.
"Harry? I'll- I'll get back to you," he quickly told the person on the other end. He hung up.
"Time to come clean, Doc. You've been a pretty bad boy."
"I- I haven't done anything," Mendella slowly said. "Why are you-? You have no proof-!"
"Save it, Doc. I know who your father was: The late Doctor Mendella, creator of the Death's Arrow drug. And I know what you've done with your newly-designed version of that drug. I got the whole story from the guy who hired you: The Kingpin of Crime himself. He's washing his hands of you, now that we're onto everything."
"I'm a respected-"
"Maybe you were, Doc, but I'd say that ended the day you decided to follow in your father's footsteps. And I definitely know it ended the day you injected my pal Daredevil with that mind and body-altering crud of yours. Now are you coming quietly or- Whoops!"
Mendella's hand had been reaching for a button, just underneath his desk. A small gob of webbing stopped him, gluing his hand to the wood. Spider-Man said: "Answered my question. Just sit tight, Doc. While I'd love to find out what kind of deadly booby traps or henchmen you've bought with all your dirty money, I think we should just wait for the Chicago police."
"You- you have no right!" Mendella cried. He was finally panicking. "There's no charge!"
"Sure is. Possession of Illegal Substances," the Webslinger smiled under his mask. "Come on, Doctor. That part was easy. Once the police obtain samples of the Death's Arrow you have stored here, they'll be able to analyze it. Now how much do you want to bet that Death's Arrow composition, with all of its mind and body hazards, will qualify as an illegal narcotic?"
"No! No! You- I'll- It's not fair! This isn't how it was supposed to be," the doctor whimpered. His other hand reached for a drawer and was immediately webbed, just like the first time. Spider-Man leaped forward onto the desk surface and opened it, revealing the hand gun.
"Let's just take that away," he said. The doctor slumped to the floor- sobbing. The vigilante took a seat near the penholders. "You know, Doctor, I've gotta hand it to you. It wasn't a bad scheme. And as these things go, this entire finale has been downright pleasant. Most of my enemies don't go so gently into the night. Oops! Here come the police! Thanks for playing, Doctor, but I guess you played your hand before you were ready for the Big Leagues."
Spider-Man leaped off the desk as the policemen stormed in. "Heck, you're not even your father. And that, Doc, in my opinion, is one heck of an insult. He's all yours, Captain."
"Gotta hand it to you, Spider-Man," the policeman said. "We've been trying to get Mendella for months. And here you blow in from New York for a day and take care of it for us. If you ever want to move over here, I'll try to get you the respect you deserve!"
"Thanks, Captain," Spider-Man said, walking through the burst doorway. "But your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man isn't changing neighborhoods right now. I appreciate the offer, though. Maybe we can be pen pals. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a few things to do."
'Like a photo assignment for the Report,' Spider-Man thought as he stepped out into the sun. 'And my meeting with Ben. That should be interesting. Well, hopefully, both of those things will go as easily as my beating Mendella. If they do, all told, this will have been a pretty pleasant trip!'
Maximum Vengeance - Chapter 2
"Um- Excuse me? Um, S-Sir? Sir?"
With the help of a map of Chicago after changing, it hadn't taken Spider- Man long to web-swing through the city to the location of Mendella's building. It was a nice, sleek-looking structure, two stories high, located on the West Side of the city.
"Sir! Sir!"
He had also figured the best way to get to Mendella would be to walk in the front door.
"Stop!"
When he entered, he ignored the receptionist.
Just like he ignored the door sign marked "AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY". Spider-Man was vaguely aware that the receptionist was picking up the phone and dialing security. Good, he suddenly thought as he looked at the dozen doors of the new hall he was in. It looked like he was going to need the guides. He took several more experimental steps through the off-limits area.
His spider-sense tingled. Spider-Man ignored it. Immediately, two burly, uniformed guards appeared from either side of him. Each one grabbed one of his arms, holding him tightly, and Spider-Man allowed himself to be stopped.
"What's the matter?" one asked. "Can't read?"
"You kiddin', Chuckles?" Spider-Man asked. "I'm a proud graduate of 'Hooked On Phonics', I am. I just wanted to talk to your boss. I kind of figured this was the easiest way to get to him. What's the matter? Was I wrong?"
"Real wrong. I know who you are, Pal, but even Captain America ain't getting in here without-"
"-knocking your lights out first? Listen, Guys, I don't want to have to do that, and you both know I could. I can lift a car. You're not going to be much trouble. Now I just want to know where Mendella's at-"
"He's not here," the first guard said.
"Strike one, Bud. Now don't feed me that line. I know he came to Chicago. I followed him here," Spider-Man said. It was a bit of a bluff, but they didn't look too bright anyway. "I want to talk to him about a little something called- Well, heck. It's not like he probably keeps you guys updated on his evil schemes. I'll just say it again: Where's Mendella?"
The guards looked at each other. Spider-Man smiled under his mask. He could almost hear the gears working in their heads. They had to know he was right. They weren't a match for him. If they were intimidated enough-
The second guard sighed. "You need to go to the third floor."
"Is that where the good Doctor Mendella is?"
"Yeah. Yeah, that's where he is."
"Oh, good! I guessed right!" Spider-Man said. "Now what do I get for winning? Well, heck. Tell you what: I'm so excited I'll just give you guys something."
The next sound was a loud 'thwip', followed by the curses of the guards who were pinned to the walls by the gray adhesive Spider-Man liked to call his Webbing. Spider-Man moved past them, tipping an imaginary hat as he did. "Thanks again, Guys. You've been great."
And with that, Spider-Man ran for the stairs. Once within the stairwell he fired a new strand of webbing directly upwards, attaching it to the ceiling three floors higher. He grabbed it, test-pulled, and them climbed. It was easier than exhausting his little legs on all those stairs, after all.
On the third floor, he leaped off his web-line and through the door, entering his final destination: A well-lit hall with a nice Persian carpet. There were only a few doors, each with a name on a gold plaque. It had to be the floor for executive offices.
He walked down the hall and read the names as he went. Vincent Mendella's was the last one in the line. He smiled. Now, how to enter? Well-
The door broke into fifty pieces. Spider-Man stepped inside.
Folded his arms. "Yoo-hoo. Doctor Mendella? Is there a doctor in the house?"
An ashen-faced Doctor Vincent Mendella had been sitting in a large armchair, facing the window behind his desk and talking on the phone, when Spider-Man took his first step inside. He spun around with wide eyes and a slackened jaw. It took several moments for him to regain composure and remember that he had a phone in hand.
"Harry? I'll- I'll get back to you," he quickly told the person on the other end. He hung up.
"Time to come clean, Doc. You've been a pretty bad boy."
"I- I haven't done anything," Mendella slowly said. "Why are you-? You have no proof-!"
"Save it, Doc. I know who your father was: The late Doctor Mendella, creator of the Death's Arrow drug. And I know what you've done with your newly-designed version of that drug. I got the whole story from the guy who hired you: The Kingpin of Crime himself. He's washing his hands of you, now that we're onto everything."
"I'm a respected-"
"Maybe you were, Doc, but I'd say that ended the day you decided to follow in your father's footsteps. And I definitely know it ended the day you injected my pal Daredevil with that mind and body-altering crud of yours. Now are you coming quietly or- Whoops!"
Mendella's hand had been reaching for a button, just underneath his desk. A small gob of webbing stopped him, gluing his hand to the wood. Spider-Man said: "Answered my question. Just sit tight, Doc. While I'd love to find out what kind of deadly booby traps or henchmen you've bought with all your dirty money, I think we should just wait for the Chicago police."
"You- you have no right!" Mendella cried. He was finally panicking. "There's no charge!"
"Sure is. Possession of Illegal Substances," the Webslinger smiled under his mask. "Come on, Doctor. That part was easy. Once the police obtain samples of the Death's Arrow you have stored here, they'll be able to analyze it. Now how much do you want to bet that Death's Arrow composition, with all of its mind and body hazards, will qualify as an illegal narcotic?"
"No! No! You- I'll- It's not fair! This isn't how it was supposed to be," the doctor whimpered. His other hand reached for a drawer and was immediately webbed, just like the first time. Spider-Man leaped forward onto the desk surface and opened it, revealing the hand gun.
"Let's just take that away," he said. The doctor slumped to the floor- sobbing. The vigilante took a seat near the penholders. "You know, Doctor, I've gotta hand it to you. It wasn't a bad scheme. And as these things go, this entire finale has been downright pleasant. Most of my enemies don't go so gently into the night. Oops! Here come the police! Thanks for playing, Doctor, but I guess you played your hand before you were ready for the Big Leagues."
Spider-Man leaped off the desk as the policemen stormed in. "Heck, you're not even your father. And that, Doc, in my opinion, is one heck of an insult. He's all yours, Captain."
"Gotta hand it to you, Spider-Man," the policeman said. "We've been trying to get Mendella for months. And here you blow in from New York for a day and take care of it for us. If you ever want to move over here, I'll try to get you the respect you deserve!"
"Thanks, Captain," Spider-Man said, walking through the burst doorway. "But your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man isn't changing neighborhoods right now. I appreciate the offer, though. Maybe we can be pen pals. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a few things to do."
'Like a photo assignment for the Report,' Spider-Man thought as he stepped out into the sun. 'And my meeting with Ben. That should be interesting. Well, hopefully, both of those things will go as easily as my beating Mendella. If they do, all told, this will have been a pretty pleasant trip!'