Beck strolled into the warehouse and glanced up past the gantry to the upper floor. That's where the lab would be. Keeping a sharp eye out in case Voorhees was excessively cautious and given to traps, Beck jogged up the steps.

Voorhees turned to face him. "Ah, Beck. Glad you could make it. My preparations are coming right along."

"That's good," Beck said. "The custom suit Fisk commissioned for you. Is it satisfactory?"

"Oh yes," Voorhees said. With a simple shrug he removed his lab coat, and under it was a shimmering shirt of extremely fine chainmail. Beck walked over to him and inspected it more closely.

"It looks almost like cloth," he said.

"And it contracts almost as well as I do," Voorhees murmured, nodding. "Protects me from cuts, which is the main worry anyway. Add a bit of this," he said, taking an airbrush and spraying something gray on the armor, "and it's complete."

"What's that?" Beck asked.

"Silicone graphite," Voorhees replied, "my own special recipe. I don't care how adhesive his grip is," he added slyly, "I'll get loose of it."

"What about all this?" Beck asked, looking at the workbench.

"Oh those," Voorhees said. "My blades, and some venom and antidote combinations. That's always useful to start with."

"Oh?" Beck asked, raising his eyebrows.

Voorhees broadly smiled. "To demonstrate resolve and ability, I usually start by poisoning someone near to the target, to get their attention. Then I poison the target himself, and he'll do about anything to get the antidote."

"No," Beck said, "Start with Parker. If it becomes necessary to target those around him then we'll revisit that. But for now, you're good enough to take the kid by yourself, right? If he doesn't respond to persuasion."

"Of course," Voorhees hissed, his face arched with distaste. He eyed Beck narrowly for a moment. "Fisk put you in charge, so I must do as you say."

It seemed clear in that moment that neither of them was thrilled with the arrangement.

Voorhees shrugged, and picked up the phone.

"Who are you calling?" Beck asked sharply.

Voorhees looked him in the eye and grinned. "My parole officer, of course," he said. "Ahem." He punched in the number and struck a pose, listening. "Ah, good afternoon, Officer Bantry. Just calling to let you know everything's fine. Yes, and to you. Goodbye." He hung up and slipped on his mask with a giggle.

"Happy Halloween…"

xXx

Peter walked in the front door, tossed his backpack on the bench, and headed for his room. Harry was sitting at the table, talking on the cordless. "He just walked in, let me get him for you," he said, and he snapped his fingers and caught Peter's eye. He was grinning like a madman.

"It's for you," he said.

Peter cautiously took the phone. "Yes?"
"Peter, it's Mary Jane. Got plans for tonight?" she asked, an edge to her voice.

"Yes," he said quickly. "Yes I do."

"Well cancel them," she said. "You're going to the Halloween dance with Tandy Bowen. Or I'll hurt you. Clear?"

"Now wait just a minute," Peter said, frowning.

"Tandy will be waiting for you to pick her up at seven at her house. Harry will give you directions. You WILL have a costume. She's going to be Buffy the Vampire Slayer, you're going to be Angel, so some plastic teeth and your normal duds will do. Put Harry back on."

"Whatever," Peter said, and he tossed the phone to Harry and walked into his room.

"Yeah," Peter heard Harry say, "smooth like gravel, babe. I'll talk to him. Yes, dear. Yes I know. And I will. Okay, bye." He hung up the phone and strolled over to lean casually against Peter's doorframe.

"I'm not going," Peter said simply.

"Now Peter," Harry said.

"The answer is no," Peter said. "I don't have to take orders from a nazi like Mary Jane who can't even be bothered to talk to me. We are not having that." He sat on his bed.

"The women are worried about you," Harry shrugged. "You gotta know Gwen put her up to this."

"I don't care," Peter said. "If every woman I date is going to get all worried and fussy about me then the dead last thing I need to do is date more women."

"C'mon, Pete, be a sport," Harry grinned. "I'll be there with you. And I think the ladies are right. You spend too much time by yourself, too much time studying. You're only young once, you know. Yes, Mary Jane is a nazi, though the thought had never crossed my mind quite that way before," he said, not bothering to hide his grin. "But in this case she's right. And so is Gwen. And so am I. You, my good son, need face time with real people your age. Or you'll go postal. Look in the mirror!" he said with growing expression of amusement. "There is a troubled youth one twist from snap!"

Peter looked over his shoulder at the mirror. "You know," he said slowly, "there might be some truth somewhere in that babble."

"Most I can hope for," Harry said, standing up off the doorframe and turning. "On my best days. I gotta go get in costume."

"Right," Peter said, feeling a sudden weariness. "Where does this girl live?"

"Tandy," Harry said, quickly coming back. "Tandy. And be nice to her, she's a good woman. As women go. Lives in Rissel Lakes, it's a gated community."

"Yes, I know."

"I got a copy of the directions she handed out for their Christmas party last year. You should be able to find it no problem."

"Yes, Harry, fine."

"And don't forget to buy the woman a rose, for God's sake. And get some plastic teeth."

"One twist from snap, did you say?"

Harry just laughed.

xXx

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Peter said, glancing at himself in the rearview mirror of the car. He took the directions and tossed them in the back seat. "Great. I don't even know if whoever's behind that Lincoln guy is finished with me yet, and I'm out here going on a date because Mary Jane is an evil creature and has a grip on all my friends. Someday," he muttered, "we are going to have a serious disagreement."

He parked in front of her house and waited for a moment, unsure of whether he should go to the front door or wait here. He hesitated, hand on the car door handle.

He stared at the house for a moment; palatial was the word that sprang to mind. The front door to the house opened up. Then she came out the front door, her pale blonde hair up in a ponytail, dressed in leather and spandex with a bandoleer of plastic tent spikes.

He quickly got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side, opening it with a flourish. "Good evening," he said, "Step into my car."

"Good evening, Peter," she said. "How are you tonight?"

"Doing just fine," he said. "You?"

"I'm on my way to a dance," she shrugged. "So far so good." She gracefully dropped into the car, he closed her door after making sure she was all in, and he moved back to the driver's seat.

"Have you eaten?" he asked.

"Yes, you?" she replied.

"I have," he said. "Uh, here's a flower," he said, reaching to the back seat and retrieving the single rose.

"Why thank you," she said.

"So on to the dance?" he said.

"Sure," she nodded. He started the car and they pulled away from the curb. "So," she said, "how do you know Mary Jane?"

Peter shrugged. "She's dating my roomie."

"Ah," Tandy nodded sagely. "I never made the connection."

"So do you do a lot of mercy dates for Mary Jane?" Peter asked, trying not to sound bitter.

She laughed, a clear and amused sound. "I was going anyway, and it never hurts to have a good looking escort. Let's just have fun, okay?"

"I'm all for that," Peter grinned, and in a smooth motion he popped in his plastic teeth.

xXx

The front door eased open, and the thin man strolled in to the unoccupied bungalow. "Anybody home?" he asked quietly. He began to walk around the living room, hands behind his back, casual. "Unusually neat for college boys," he mused to himself, and he giggled. Then he saw the answering machine, with one message on it that had been listened to but not erased. He pushed the button.

eep "Harry, MJ. Look, make sure Peter remembers a flower and his teeth for the dance tonight, okay? Later." eep

Voorhees smiled. "The dance," he murmured. And he quickly left.