Part Four

"This is Ned Leeds, for the Daily Bugle, reporting from the eye of the storm." The young, blond reporter, gazed at the chaos all around him, "This is simply stunning, never has their been a crime wave that caused this much damage in such a short time in this city's history. I have with me, captain George Stacy of the police, who survived the incident."

Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin, gazed at the large screen television on his wall, intently, every one of his muscles expressing a different concern. "I see you held no restraint earlier today."

"Why should I?" Flint Marko confidently asked sitting in a seat beside Fisk's table, "You said you wanted a crime wave, so I gave you one." He laughed, "It really felt great being out there, with all that power."

"I'm sure it did." He replied grimly, "However, its always best to keep a few cards out of sight should the need for their use arise." Kingpin rubbed his brow wearily; "The city will be on alert, now."

Flint shrugged, "So what? With me, they'd need to nuke the city! Did you see the way I handled Spider-Man?" He asked proudly looking at the television screen.

"Indeed." Fisk answered back, "That meddlesome fool had been costing me thousands of dollars with his heroic antics. Speak of the devil." He remarked with a smirk.

The battle between Sandman and Spider-Man played out on the screen. The latter threw everything he could at the criminal but all in vain. Flint couldn't help but clap his hands together in celebration of his performance, "I need to get in contact with Jack Vodones on the double, let him know that I need him to organize all of my guys again, I'm sure they've been having a hell of a time figuring out what to do, while I've been gone."

Fisk's expression became somber, "Unfortunately, that's not true." He lit up his cigar and took a puff before elaborating to a rather confused Marko, "After you were disabled, I took control of your entire organization." Flint had been in charge of a small group of elite mercenaries that performed dubious tasks for figures in the crime world, Kingpin for one. "You must understand, I thought your life was relatively over at the time. Only later did I learn what a candidate you were for the Sandman project."

"Fine." Flint replied quietly but somewhat aggressively, "Now that I'm back you can hand it right too me." His hands gripped the ends of the table.

"That would cause more problems than it would solve." Kingpin said, "You see they've been assimilated into my own syndicate, to simply yank them out now could cause me to lose out on a considerable sum of money."

The thug rose from his seat and leaned over the table towards Fisk, "I don't care." He said behind clenched teeth, "Give them back."

"As I said, I can't." Fisk took another puff of his cigar and blew some of the smoke into Flint's face, "Why are you complaining? Look at what you've been given, you should be thankful that you're even alive." He said while gesturing carelessly with his hand.

"Believe me, I know, but I still want my men back." Flint demanded.

Kingpin shrugged, "They're my men now." He laughed, "You don't like that, Mr. Marko, I can stick you back into another lab and see what some more gamma radiation doses do to you."

Flint formed a mace with his fist and raised it menacingly; "You've got quite a mouth on you for a guy whose about to get the beating of his life."

"Oh?" Fisk grabbed his cane and pushed down on the headpiece. Electricity immediately crackled throughout Flint's body, "I'm waiting for that beating, Mr. Marko." Fisk grinned as Sandman fell to his knees in agony and writhed across the floor.

Once Kingpin ceased the torture, Flint immediately coughed up sand from his mouth onto the floor, "How?" He asked desperately, grunting from the pain.

"Did you really think I'd let you live without a leash?" Fisk asked, "No, Mr. Marko. I had a device implanted into you, and when you changed, it did as well."

"I'll kill you." Flint swore staggering to his feet.

Kingpin raised an eye and sighed in disdain. "I think you need to learn a little lesson about control." He unleashed another barrage of electricity and smiled, "I've been meaning to correct that attitude problem of yours for some time now."

Peter closed his eyes and slowly drifted away in the bathroom tub. Relaxing in the calm warm water was a welcome break from the beating that Sandman had given him earlier in the day.

His bruises were nowhere near as bad as he had worried but they hurt nonetheless. The warm air from the evaporating water allowed Peter to imagine he was somewhere else entirely.

Of course the sharp sting from his leg forced him to confront reality far sooner than he would have wished. A knock slowly came to the door and soon after the tense voice of his uncle broke his moment of isolation. "Pete, I don't think this whole superhero thing is going to work out."

"What?" Peter inquired moving his legs in the tub. His Spider-Man costume lay on the floor as some sort of reminder to the severity of his battle.

"The television. Its all over the news." Uncle Ben sighed from behind the door. Peter could imagine his concerned eyes gazing at the slab of wood between them. "This hero thing just isn't going to happen."

Peter was quiet for a moment as he pondered the situation and then reluctantly nodded, "Was that all?"

"You got a phone call." Ben added with a degree of relief in his voice, "From somebody named Gwen."

"Gwen?" Peter suddenly rose out of the tub; his body full reenergized and grabbed a towel that he quickly used to cover himself with. "What did she have to say?"

Drops of water fell down onto the cold floor from Peter's body and quickly began to make a small puddle beneath him.

Ben took a moment as he recalled the conversation; "She wanted to make sure you were still going to some dance with her on Thursday."

"Thursday?" Peter's eyes slowly widened, "Yeah, I am. What did you tell her?"

"I said you'd call back." Ben added, "I didn't know your school was going to have a dance, formal or informal?"

Peter rubbed the edge of his chin and gazed at his face in the mirror pleased to see that already the bruises and scratches were no longer swollen, "Harry said it would be informal."

"Okay, just try and fix yourself up for once." Ben remarked jovially. His tone suddenly became somber again, however. "Kiddo, I just want to make sure you're done with this Spider-Man thing." He sighed, "There's just too much of a risk that you'll get into trouble. I thought that maybe we could get through this, but this is the second time you could have…died. I already lost May…I don't want to end up being the only living Parker. Promise me, promise that you're done with this costume business."

Peter was silent and slowly gazed into his own reflection searching for an answer.

"Peter?" Ben said.

"I promise."

One day later. Wilson Fisk gazed at Dr. Spencer Smyth as he sat in a wheelchair, his lower body covered in bandages. It was amazing that the scientist was even alive considering the amount of damage that had been done to his lab when Flint destroyed it.

"He's becoming rather volatile." Fisk noted, "Especially as of late." His massive hands were clasped together showing how deep in thought he really was, "You assured me that the plug could be pulled when the time came for it."

Spencer nodded reluctantly and moved a little in the wheelchair. An act that caused him to feel stinging pain from his thigh. "Yes, that is still true. However, I'd like to object to destroying the Sandman so soon after his birth. If you would allow me too, I'd like to study the subject."

"Out of the question." Fisk responded forcefully. The setting sun beamed in through the shades that covered his bulletproof windows. The large office was eerily silent and there was a sense of dread coming from both men sitting on opposite ends of a black table, each contrasting the other. "He threatened me."

"That was to be expected." Spencer remarked urging, "Heightened aggression and impaired judgment showed up in all of our previous tests."

Fisk prided himself on being the Kingpin of all crime and the methods that he had used to get there. "I refuse to leave Mr. Marko as a loose thread."

Spencer nodded slowly remembering whom it was that paid for his expenses, "Very well. All I have to do is set the implant inside of his body on overload and that will be the end of him. Do you wish it done now?"

"No." Fisk replied, "I have some enemies that I might as well have Flint remove before I discard him. Good day, doctor."

"Before I go, I'd like to ask something of you." Spencer's voice was sheepish, after his trashing at the lab he decided not to push his luck for a while.

Suddenly, preventing Fisk from responding, the phone rang. "Hold on for one moment, please." He pressed a button that ran along the surface of his smooth table, "Put it through the intercom please." Fisk ordered of some unseen employee that was hard at work maintaining the traffic of phone calls in Fisk Towers. "Hello?" He asked as soon as the sound of the connecting line was heard.

"Mr. Fisk?" The voice of an elderly woman asked, "This is Mrs. Meed from Midtown High. Your son, Richard, was involved in another altercation."

Fisk sighed slowly, "Excuse me, Mrs. Meed, could you get into contact with my lawyer. I'm sure he'll clear things up." He stomped his hand down on another button, shutting the connection off.

For a moment Fisk gazed into Spencer's eyes and was silent. "My son is a bright student. Unfortunately, he has an attitude problem and ended up being kicked out of all the decent private schools. He has yet to learn that real control isn't won with fists. I can't believe he decided to get into trouble just one day before a school dance! He'll attend, I'll make sure of that personally."

"My word." Spencer said at the thought of Wilson Fisk's son attending a private school, "What a shame."

"He's not an isolated case. At my country club, a fellow member, Norman Osborn has a similar problem. Although from what Osborn tells me his son lacks motivation."

Spencer shrugged, "What's become of America?"

Fisk was silent for a moment and decided to cut to the chase, "What was it you wanted, Dr. Smyth."

"I was wondering that when you decided to…terminate Mr. Marko, if I could study the remains."

Fisk grinned widely and laughed, "When I'm done with Flint, all that will be left is a bucket of sand, but if that's what you want I'll have it on your doorstep by next Monday."

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to the Kingpin of Crime or Spencer Smyth, the nefarious Sandman watched them from inside a vent as a pile of sand. He slowly grimaced and began to make his way back through the vent towards an exit that would take him into an alley.

He should have known that Fisk would attempt a betrayal like this. Flint was becoming more and more powerful and soon not even their implant would be able to stop him.

But before then, he needed some sort of insurance policy. It was then that he remembered a mention of Fisk's son. "Midtown High." He said menacingly. He knew where that was. "Maybe it's time, I showed Kingpin that they're other kinds of control."

Peter picked the phone in the hallway up, "Parker residence." He said carelessly as he ate an oatmeal cookie.

"Hey, its Harry." The young Osborn said on the other line.

"Oh, how are you doing?" Peter inquired running his hand along his cheek. The scratches on his face were fully healed and Peter was beginning to realize how lucky he was that the spider decided to help him out with that one. Otherwise, he might just show up every day to school looking like somebody's punching bag.

"So you're still coming tomorrow to the dance, right?" Harry asked.

Peter nodded and gazed down the stairwell where noises from the television emerged. "Yes and I'm still bringing Gwen. You never did tell me who you were bringing."

Harry laughed mischievously, "Well, it's a surprise. I really had to pull out everything but the kitchen sink to get her to go."

"Really?" Peter grinned, "You had to bribe her? What did you offer her, I want to hear this one for myself."

"Limo, dinner after the dance, and the whole nine yards." Harry replied jovially, "Other than that it was all me, baby."

Peter nodded, "Sounds good, see you tomorrow." He hung up the phone and took a deep breath. "Me at a dance with Gwen Stacy? Stranger things have happened."