The Sandman

Part One

Flint Marko lay in a heavily guarded hospital, his body covered in a caste, on a gray bed with only the news playing on the television to keep him any sort of company, a mere shell of a man. The Goblin's first attack had stripped him of his legs, but that was not enough for the monster, he followed up and attempted to finish the job. Flint's continued survival proved that he had failed. Marko found that he was wishing the Goblin had succeeded, however.

His legs gone, and his arms burned beyond recognition he was slowly on his way towards becoming an invalid. When Flint was a child he had been the toughest kid on his old street, back when what street you grew up on, meant something. He had to be tough, with a mother like Flint's he couldn't have afforded not to.

It seemed those days were passing and with them, Flint Marko. He began to cry for the first time since his father's murder.

"Please, Mr. Marko, don't make a spectacle. You've earned my respect through all of these years, don't lose it now." Said a hulking figure dressed in a nice white business suit as he entered through the door. The hospital room was fairly bland and unremarkable.

Flint's eyes widened, "You!" He said in shock, "How did you get past the guards?"

The large man smiled as his fingers ran along the top of the elegant cane that he moved around with, "The guards? I thought by now you'd realize I own the guards." He smiled, "How are you these days, Marko?"

"Look at me." He said angrily, "Look what that green freak did to me!" Flint moved slightly in his caste but found it only caused him more pain.

"Don't move, Marko." The imposing figure replied, "I came here to speak, so I'll do the talking. You can relax." He leaned forward and whispered as if sharing his deepest secret, "How would you like a second-lease on life? Consider it as a sort of compensation for all the years of loyal service."

Flint frowned, confused, "What?"

The large man tugged at the ends of his sleeves and shrugged, "I can give you everything you lost and power beyond your wildest dreams. All you need to do is undergo a little procedure, that's not too much to ask, is it?"

Uncle Ben quietly watched Peter Parker descend the staircase. For Peter an entire week had been spent in bed, as he recovered from the wounds that had revealed his secret so poignantly.

"How're you doing?" Ben inquired looking at his nephew's face already free from the extensive scratches and gashes thanks to his advanced healing factor.

Peter shrugged, "Alright, I guess." He was dressed in his blue pajamas and his hair was even more of a mess than usual. "You?"

"I've had better days." Ben replied honestly, "That's not what matters though." He was sitting in the kitchen, it was a nice Tuesday morning and he had cooked breakfast, and was now eating some hot bacon and pancakes. "Mr. Jameson from the Bugle called, he wanted to know if you had gotten any photos of that Goblin."

"I…" Peter slapped his hand on his forehead, "I left the photos with my camera and clothes in the alley when I changed!" He exclaimed angry at his own carelessness.

Ben nodded, "I figured as much considering that you showed up in the costume, only." He smiled, "I told him that you were sick."

Peter felt rather guilty, making his uncle lie for him, "What did Mr. Jameson say?"

"He demanded I show him a letter from the hospital stating that you couldn't perform your job." Ben looked rather proud of himself, "I told him to come over hear and see you for himself. He declined, and I said then take a flying leap." He laughed, "Don't worry, Pete you still got your job."

"Oh." Peter replied with a great degree of relief. He was silent for a moment before sheepishly adding, "Thanks, uncle Ben."

The old man nodded and dived his fork into another chunk of his flapjacks, "Don't mention it." He gestured towards some food on the counter, "That's yours if you want it."

Peter nodded, "I sure do. My stomach's been rumbling ever since I woke up this morning." He retrieved the plate full of food and sat beside Ben at the table, "Listen, I appreciate all of what you're going through for me." He said, "But please, I don't want you to get too involved."

"Here it comes." Ben said exasperated.

"What?" Peter inquired.

Ben grinned, "The old Parker guilt. Your dad had it and so did I. It runs in the genes." He patted Peter on the shoulder, "You feel like the whole weight of the world rests on your shoulders."

"Yeah…actually." Peter remarked.

"Don't sweat it." Ben replied, "You're feeling fine?"

The younger Parker stretched his arms and neck for a moment, "Great."

"Good." Ben pointed a fork at Peter's plate, "Eat your breakfast and get ready for school. Oh, and don't bring the costume."

Peter frowned, suddenly nervous, "Why not? I always bring my costume to school."

Ben shook his head, "You're Peter Parker, Spider-Man's the costume. Not the other way around. Promise me." He said with a sense of urgency.

"I promise." Peter answered.

"Good." Ben said jovially, "Now eat up."

Peter was among the great flood moving into the school as if it were some sort of concentration camp. There was a time when he was terrified to walk these halls, afraid of the bullies, the confrontations, of life. He was still the same old timid Peter Parker, but there was a new confidence balanced by a newfound wisdom.

As he slowly traveled the corridors of the school, he realized his year as a high school junior was nearly over and he'd be a senior soon. Changes had run over his old life, some good, some tragic.

"Hey, Peter." Gwen Stacy said as she joined him on his trek down the colorful hallways of their school, "Are you looking forward to the school dance on Thursday?"

"The dance?" Peter inquired, "I didn't know one was even scheduled."

Gwen laughed brushing away some of her elegant blond hair, she held a pair of books in her arms, her pose made her seem like a swan, constantly graceful, "I forgot you were out all week. The school scrambled it together because they wanted to do some sort of tribute to an old teacher that died recently. What happened to you anyway?"

Peter shrugged, "I guess I just got a bad cold." He sheepishly replied.

"I see." Gwen grinned, "So, are you going?"

Peter shook his head, "I don't think so." He turned a corner, as did Gwen. "Its for couples right?"

She nodded, "Yep."

"Well unfortunately, I don't have a date, big surprise." He replied with a jokingly.

Gwen nodded, "I figured as much. Peter, if you don't have anybody to take I'd be more than grateful-I mean happy to go with you."

Peter stopped dead in his tracks and raised an eye curiously, "Really?"

"Sure." Gwen responded.

He took a moment to consider the offer, he did have things to do: fix his costume, do homework, make more formula for his web-shooters. Peter barely kept from laughing at his dull schedule. He shrugged, "It's a date."

"Great." Gwen tapped Peter on the shoulder' "The dance is at eight so you'd better pick me up around seven."

"That sounds good." He nodded.

"See you later." She said looked at the time on her wristwatch, "I need to get to class."

Peter nodded, "Yeah…class." He sighed deeply as Gwen Stacy walked down the hallway; she was quite a catch, out of Peter's league in every way, but so was Mary Jane Watson and they barely spoke anymore.

The bell rang and Peter suddenly realized he was late, "Oh no!" He began a mad sprint for his classroom unable to shake the thought of Gwen out of his head. Considering that he hadn't had a date in years, his love life had become complicated as of late.

Flint Marko gazed at his benefactor, the large fat man, with a mixture of fear and respect. The fat man went by many aliases, and only a few knew them all. Flint was one of those trusted individuals. The fat man's name was Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin of Crime. He ran all illegal business in the city with an iron grip; you couldn't so much as rob somebody without the money somehow finding its way into Fisk's hands.

"Why am I strapped down?" Flint asked nervously. Several restraints held his body up against a vertical steel bed.

Fisk grinned, "For your own protection, Mr. Marko." He replied, his large hands clasped together, "Trust me, isn't that right Dr. Smyth."

"Of course." Spencer Smyth replied as he slowly worked on the central computer. He was a middle-aged man, with gray hair, and a cantankerous personality. "We've already run several test with mice, all successful."

Flint nodded, "That sounds good. What's the name of this project again?"

Spencer smiled, "The Sandman Project."

"Ok…what's this going to do about my legs and arms." Flint inquired.

"You'll find out." Kingpin replied with a sly smile, "Just remember who gave you this power and who you owe for it."

"Now please, these calculations are very important. I need silence." He returned to his work, his eyes becoming more eager looking with every computation, however, his work was interrupted when Fisk's cell-phone rang.

"My apologies." The Kingpin said gently, "Excuse me." He picked the phone out of his pocket and placed it against his ear, "Fisk here."

On the other side one of his employees spoke with a feeble voice, "Sorry sir, but your son, Richard Fisk, the one at Midtown High, was in a fight."

"Damn." He said quietly, "I'll be over there in a moment." He turned the phone off and grinned at Marko, "Kids. Dr. Smyth, I believe you can handle things from here."

"Without a doubt." Spencer replied sarcastically and watched as Fisk left the lab. He turned back to Flint, "Now we can have some real fun."

In the Control Room that overlooked the lab, Spencer Smyth watched eagerly as the Neutron and Gamma emitters were put into position by the machines. Flint looked rather nervous but did his best to hide his fear.

The entire staff standing beside, Spencer, in the CR shared his enthusiasm. They had been stunned when Fisk told Smyth that he could have a useful test subject by the end of the work.

"Emitters at one hundred percent." One of the staff reported at their computer terminal in the dimly lit room. The blue and green lights were their only source of illumination. "Regulators operational."

"Good." Spencer smiled, "Fire the Neutron emitter."

Flint turned his head as one of the machines lit up, "What's going on?" He asked terrified of his vulnerability. The lab became a bright purple as radiation from the emitter swept over Marko.

Inside the lab, behind shielded glass, Spencer watched the results of his work; "I've been waiting for this moment for six years!" Flint began to scream in pain as the Neutron radiation began to saturate his body. "Fire the Gamma emitter."

Flint's skin began to slowly burn. He couldn't bear the pain for another minute. When he saw the machine to his left power up, his despair increased tenfold. Suddenly, green light began to fill every nook and cranny of the lab.

"Incredible." Spencer remarked as Flint writhed in agony. "Now fire the Tri-Alpha Wave emitter." The last machine, of Spencer's design, covered him in waves of energy. He had worked through his entire life for this moment, his wife's death, his son's suicide; none of it had dragged him away from this project. "At last. Power down all emitters!" He ordered.

Without delay the staff complied and all the machines powered down. Spencer grabbed one of the microphones and spoke into it, "Now break free of your restraints, Marko! Break free!"

Flint was dazed, shocked, violated. His breathing was hard and broken, he slowly shook his head; "I-I can't!" He exclaimed.

"Yes you can!" Spencer declared, "I've given you power! Now utilize it!"

"Is that dirt on me?" Flint gazed at his chest puzzled. "That's not dirt. That's sand. From where?" It was then he realized his chest was passing straight through the restraints, "What the hell?" Flint frowned suddenly in shock, "How can this be possible." He took a simple step straight through. "My body." He remarked. His limbs were back! But changed somehow, he felt different; his arm seemed to shift between a sand-like substance and solid. "What did you do to me?"

Spencer laughed, "I've made you into a modern Hercules, only a thousand times more powerful! Arise, Sandman, show the world what you can do."

Flint screamed, "I wanted to be normal! You! You've turned me into a freak." His hand suddenly changed shape and became a solid block, "Look at what have you done to me! I just wanted to be the way I was before!"

"Why? You're so much more better now!" Spencer countered.

"Better?" Spencer clenched his teeth furiously; "I'll show you better!" His arm stretched out, seemingly without limit. His hand formed a giant sledgehammer; "This is better!"

The giant hammer hurtled towards the CR. Everybody in the room screamed in terror at the sudden sight of their demise, none of them would live. Spencer grinned, "Marvelous."