Who's Next

Spider-man sat on the same ugly gargoyle as he did the night his beloved uncle died. His arms were resting on his knees, his head on his forearms. Even the sirens blaring below could not bring him out of his despair. He heaved a deep sigh and felt a tear roll down the side of his nose in the small space between his skin and mask.

The front page of the Bugle said it all:

SPIDER-MAN MURDERS TO KEEP IDENTITY SECRET.

Because of some fanatic's misguided misconception, people were being assassinated. And Spider-man knew he was directly responsible. He sat there; numb. He created a secret identity to keep others safe. He used his special powers to save people's lives. No one was supposed to die just because of who he was. It just wasn't supposed to be like that.

He willed his mind to work on solving the problem, but it kept going back to the picture of George, bloody and lifeless. Once the newspaper came out with the connection between Joe and George, Pete tried desperately to remember the other faces on the train. It was then that he recalled George. He was the quiet, unassuming gentleman that tried to comfort him. He told him that everything would be alright. When Spidey made that direct connection between the dead man and the gentleman, he threw his head back and howled, "Nooooooo!"

Only winged creatures of the night heard his anguish cry.

At one point, he tried to convince himself that it was just coincidence, but two people from the same train who were in contact with the Bugle was just too much to be a fluke. So for the past several hours, he had been trying to figure out how to get a list of all those people, and try to protect them somehow. But he didn't know who any of them were, and even if he did, they lived scattered all over the city, how could he protect them all?

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Lisa sat stunned, staring down at the blaring headlines. The single young brunette must have read that article three times hoping that she had misread it. He couldn't have done it. Not Spider-man. Why would he risk his own life to save all those people on the train, then murder them later just to save his identity. Especially when many of them including her stepped in daring Doc Ock to go through them to get to him. She subconsciously rubbed her arm where she was mashed up against the side of the train when the villain grabbed Spider-man.

As she pushed her glasses up her nose, she kept trying to convince herself it was all a lie, that no way could he be the murderer. Maybe it was just a coincidence that those two men were on the train and the real link was the fact they were at the Bugle. She knew then what she needed to do. She needed to prove that Spider-man was innocent. Proved beyond a shadow of a doubt. She quickly popped off the couch and started to rummage through the top drawer of her dresser. It's in here somewhere, I know it is. I wanted to put it someplace safe she thought to herself She stopped suddenly, hand buried in lingerie. No, I decided that this was not the safe place for it. She frantically started to look around. Where is my safe place? I forgot where I put it. Her eyes settled on the closet and relief flooded her body. She opened the door and dove into a pile of shoes.

She was never neat about her footwear; she usually just took them off and tossed them into the closet. About once every 5 years she would clean up the mess, organize the shoes and then proceed to trash the place starting the very next day. She knew her penchant for sloppiness, and deduced that no one would ever try to rummage through that mountain of mess, especially with its odiferous samples of riding boots, old sneakers, and well worn hiking shoes. She immediately aimed for the far right corner and tossed off flats, boots, fancy dress shoes, sandals, running shoes and two pairs of slippers before finding the shoe box. Sitting amongst the clutter, she slid her glasses up her nose again, opened the lid and peered in at the lone piece of paper.

On that list were the names, addresses and phone numbers of 11 people. Of all the passengers on the train that day, about a third of them exchanged personal information. She could put a face to each of the names on that list and a lone tear streamed down her cheek when her eyes focused on George's name. She held tight onto the directory of people as if to drop it would break it. As if to be careless with it would mean that it could fall into the wrong hands. Then her face lit up! That's it! It has to be, someone got hold of one of the lists. She refused to believe it would be one of the listees. She was sure it had to be someone else. Probably a reporter. Who else could get hold of something like this? And it fits with the connection to the Bugle. She looked back down at the piece of paper and studied the names and her eyes settled on someone named Chris. She had actually sat next to him that day and had chatted a bit.

She got up off the closet floor and headed for the phone. Picking up the receiver she hesitated, placed it back in its cradle, then after another moment, picked it back up. Before she could chicken out she quickly dialed his number.

"Hello?" she heard

"Ummm." She paused. "Uh, is Chris there?"

"Speaking"

"Chris, I, uh, don't know if you remember me or not, my name is Lisa Starchworth. I was on…"

"Oh hi Lisa. Sure I remember you. I don't think I will ever forget that day. What can I do for you?"

"Chris, have you read the Bugle lately?"

"No, actually, I usually stick to the Wall Street Journal. Besides ever since that day, reading the Bugle just pisses me off every time they trash Spider-man. Why?"

Lisa wavered. It was hard to say the words. "Two people who saw Spider-man's face from the train have been murdered. They say Spider-man's doing it."

"You're joking, right?"

There was a moment of silence, then Chris continued, "You're not joking are you?"

"No. I called, I guess, because I needed to talk to someone about it. But it has to be someone who, you know…'knows'. Can we meet?"

"Hmmmm, my time's kinda tight right now, I leave for Europe tomorrow. But I do want to discuss this with you. Well, do you still take the same commuter train? The 4:35? Can we meet in the first car again like we did that day?" Chris offered.

"Actually, I'm not a commuter, I was just on the train that one time. But I will still meet you there today."

"Good, see you later then." Chris confirmed, and hung up.

Lisa held the handset of the phone for a while before placing it back in the cradle. She sure hoped she was doing the right thing. One thing for sure, she wasn't going anywhere near the Bugle until the murderer was found.

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The gentle rocking effect of the train was helping to quiet Lisa's nerves. She had a few stops before Chris got on, and she was able to take the same seat she shared with him months earlier. At most of the stops, she looked up at the people piling into the car. She wondered if they were on this car that fateful day. No one from her list was there but there were about 20 other people from that day that didn't share their personal information. The thought that the murderer might be in the car never crossed her mind.

At the stop before Chris', a lone person entered the train car and headed towards one of the few remaining empty seats. Sitting down, the stranger eyed a woman sitting across the aisle. She was hogging a double seat. In a crowded train like this it was always frowned upon to take two empty seats but she didn't seemed to care. The stranger watched as the woman gave a quick glance over then subconsciously pushed her glasses up her nose.

At Chris' stop, Lisa's anxiety increased as throngs of people packed into the train car like cattle and she couldn't see him.

"Lisa?"

Startled, she looked up into a strange face. But as she studied it, the old familiar features started to form from the short hair and new goatee Chris now sported. He took his seat beside her when her face warmed up and smiled in recognition.

"Sorry, I should have warned you that I look a little different," he said as he threaded his fingers through his now short hair. He thought back to that day, he was actually on his way to get a haircut after work when the battle between the two superpowers ensued. He was one of the people right at the front of the train, and watched in both horror and amazement as the train rocketed to certain demise with Spider-man using every ounce of strength he had to prevent it. A small smile crossed his face as he remembered that it was he who first prevented the young hero from plummeting to his own death after the train stopped.

He quickly snapped out of his daydream and pulled out two different copies of the Bugle, "I got hold of both of them and read the stories you referred to. I didn't remember Joe, but remembered George. We had chatted on several occasions, as he was a regular. So, what're your thoughts on it?"

Lisa leaned in a little closer. For some reason she felt compelled to speak very softly for fear of being overheard.

"I know this is a setup. It has to be. I know it," she looked around quickly, "you-know-who couldn't have murdered anyone. I'm thinking that Joe went to the Bugle ready to spill the beans and maybe he had a copy of our list. Or maybe he got his own list from several people. Anyway, I think it is someone working at the newspaper who's offing the train passengers. Whoever it is knew Joe was trying to sell his story, and did him in, then maybe invited George to tell his story, or maybe when George gave his name, the killer recognized the name from the list that Joe had, or maybe Joe fingered George, or, oh, I don't know. But I think it is too much of a coincidence that both men were also at the Bugle."

Chris absorbed what Lisa said and agreed. "Well, listen, I'm going to be away for a few days, but when I come back, let's meet again, maybe pull in a few more people and start to organize a real investigation. This is our chance to help the man who saved our lives."

A train passenger kept an inconspicuous eye and sharp ear open for any signs of betrayal in the car. The stranger took guarding the secret very seriously and was always alert for traitors. Without his identity, Spider-man could no longer protect the city and its millions of inhabitants. While a little regret started to creep in at the lives lost to protect the superhero, the self proclaimed sentinel almost missed the gentleman who had sat down across the aisle. Apparently he was why the brunette was hogging the seat. He had pulled out two copies of the Bugle both with the murders splattered across the front page. The killer probably won't have noticed the papers if it was just one Bugle edition, but he had both of them, which were dated several days apart and the man kept referring to them while speaking with the bespectacled woman. Very few words could be heard over the constant hum of a crowded moving train, but enough important ones were picked out. As the train stopped, the decision had been made once again to protect Spider-man's identity.

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Pete decided that the best way to try to find possible future victims was to go to the scene of the original incident. He hoped against hope that he would recognize someone. As he clung to the side of a building in the shadows of the main stop, he saw the train approaching from down the tracks. The first face he saw was the engineer. Spidey realized then that he had gotten a good look at him that day, even though this person was not the same man. He made a mental note to act like a reporter and find out who the engineer was that day. When the train stopped, the doors slid open. Just like racehorses breaking from the gate, the commuters unloaded. He tried to scan as many people as he could, praying that maybe he would recognize a face. When his eyes fell upon a couple leaving the first car, his spider sense started tingling.

Spider-man slithered up the wall, remaining in the shadows but positioning himself so that he could follow the couple. He cussed softly under his mask when they parted because he didn't know which one to follow. He opted to follow the woman thinking that she might make the easier target for the assassin. She did not follow the crowd into the huge station but went directly to the pedestrian bridge that would bring her to the other side of the tracks. She looked like she was going to get right back on a train to head in the direction she just came from. He looked around; there was no way for him to swing across the tracks unnoticed. He decided to stay hidden for the moment to see if the killer would show.

The super-hero was yanked from his concentration when someone screamed, "Its Spider-man!" He could tell instantly from the stress in the voice that it wasn't yelled in awe, but in fear. He regretted getting caught and he looked to see fear in the face of the young woman with the glasses as she turned and left the platform. He also realized that the killer most probably had fled too.

Lisa's heart skipped a beat when she saw Spider-man up on the wall of the station. Even though she had convinced herself that he wasn't the murderer, the sight of him there just staring at her caused her to panic at that moment. After hailing a taxi home, she kicked herself for behaving like that. It was her one chance to show the hero that she didn't believe the newspapers. Now he probably feels that everyone fears him. But, why was he there hiding in the shadows? She wondered.

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The couple was followed from the train. When they split up, the woman went in the direction of a bridge that was very much out in the open, not a good area to silence anyone. But the man followed the crowd into the station. Maybe he would head towards the garage or some other more desolate place. Chris was shadowed without knowing he was in imminent danger. As the throng of people approached the escalators, the murderer noticed that the executive was going to walk right in front of one of the mobile stairs stilled for repairs. Although a knife was the preferred method, this opportunity could not be passed up. A well place foot and a quick but powerful nudge sent Chris flying down the broken escalator. The killer disappeared as the screams erupted.

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Peter hurled the newspaper against the wall, with his fist following close behind. He pulled up at the last second when he realized that he couldn't afford to fix any hole that he'd make in his apartment wall. Ironically, the paper landed, opened on page 9, where the story was buried. Apparently no one at the Bugle connected the death with the other two murders. But Pete recognized the picture of the man posted next to the story. It was the same man he saw yesterday. The person he chose not to follow. The story read:

Chris Lorrel, a Wall Street Executive, died yesterday in a freak accident. He tripped and fell down an escalator closed for maintenance. He tumbled down the long two story mechanical stairway all the way to the bottom breaking his neck. He was pronounced dead at the scene.

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Lisa sat in the library with stacks of newspapers dating back to the train incident. She had not only the Bugle but the Times, the Post and several smaller obscure papers. She wanted to research as much information as possible. When Chris returned, she wanted to show him that with just a little extra digging they will have their proof. She was too busy researching to read the latest Bugle end to end, but she figured if there was another murder, it would be splashed on the front page. She missed the story about Chris.

As she researched rescue after rescue, with the exception of the Bugle reports, she started to feel so ashamed that she ran from Spider-man the other day. Maybe he was after all, there to protect her from the real murderer. But she still had nagging reservations, like how did he know she would be there that day. She's rarely on that train. If he was protecting her from the murderer, how would the killer know she would be there? She was starting to spook herself again with her questions. Of course then reading the Bugle accounts just seemed to reinforce the queasiness she felt as doubt filled her mind.

She shook her head. NO! Spider-man is not a cold blooded assassin. No matter what the Bugle says, I have to think positive about this. She sat there trying to analyze her doubt. She just couldn't figure out why she had any qualms about her hero to begin with. Then she asked herself, what would I do if I see him again? She didn't like her answer. It was I don't know.

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Spider-man had gone back to the train station several more times over the next several days without any luck. He was still reeling from the death of Chris. He was right there. If he had chosen to follow him instead of the girl, maybe Chris would still be alive today and the killer caught. The superhero spent even more time both as the wall crawler and as Peter Parker scouring the city in hopes of catching the murderer in the act. He had to find the fanatic before any more lives were lost.

In hopes of finding a needle in a haystack Peter started to hang around the vicinity within several blocks of the train station. He feared hanging around as Spider-man too much because if there were more murders, witnesses would put him in the area. Perfect, he thought. In my attempt to catch a killer, I would implicate myself.

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Since she was in the library Lisa had cried silently but hard when she finally found out what happened to Chris. When he didn't return any of her phone messages, and he was supposed to have been back already, she knew something was wrong. She pulled out all the Bugles that she had collected since their meeting and began to read through them looking for an airplane crash or car accident or anything that might explain what happened to the executive. It was not above her imagination to think that the killer got him and made it look like an accident. She found the story easily from his picture. He died just minutes after their last meeting. She sat and stared at the news unbelievingly. When her mind focused back to that day she remembered Spider-man was hiding in the shadows. Did he decide to go after Chris when she ran? Would anyone really have seen it if Chris was yanked down the stairs by webbing? She didn't know how the web stuff worked. Would the evidence have dissolved by the time anyone got to the victim's side? She didn't know but her doubts about the super-hero were growing exponentially now.

The library she had been researching in was close to the train station. She had picked that particular branch so that when she and Chris got together with some of the others, it would be convenient to most people. She hefted her bag of newspapers, articles and clippings onto her shoulder and dragged herself out for what she figured would be the last time. She didn't have the energy nor the belief anymore that Spider-man was innocent and wasn't going forward with her plans to prove his innocence. Carrying the heavy sack, she looked for a quick bite before heading back home.

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About a week after Chris' death, Pete slogged into a pizzeria, tired and depressed. He missed several of his classes trying to find someone, anyone from the train. He combed the area both as Peter Parker and as Spider-man. After picking up and paying for a couple of slices and a soda, he turned to look for an empty seat. That's when he saw the brunette just getting up from the table after finishing her slice. He headed in a beeline to her. He quickly put his things down on her table and said quietly, "Please, can we talk?"

She looked at him. A puzzle look crossed her face for a moment, then total panic set in. She shoved him back and screamed "NO!" and ran out the door. Pete, allowed himself to fall, because within the tanglement of chair legs, he would have looked out of place if he used his spider abilities to remain upright. Kicking the chair away, he jumped up to go after her, but a big burly fellow, who assumed the worst from Pete, blocked his path. He looked around at all the stares and said red-faced, "All I did was ask if I could sit here. She left her sack, I was just going to call after her and let her know."

The Good Samaritan stood his ground and said quietly, "Well just in case, I don't think you will mind sitting down like a good boy and eating your dinner, huh? We'll put her bag in the back and she can come back later to fetch it." He emphasized this by crossing his beefy arms across his chest. Pete stood there, thinking furiously. Enough seconds had just ticked by that he has probably already lost her. He sat down and quickly ate his dinner. He allowed just enough time so that he was allowed to leave.

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The cloaked figure blended in the shadows of the alleyway across the street from the pizza joint. Watching Peter through the steamy glass window of the storefront, it was felt that this would be a good opportunity. The photographer had been followed at a distance several times after the first traitor had tried to give away Spider-man's secret. But either the situation did not lend to his demise or another victim was found. Being the only person who gets photos of the superhero and also having been on the train for the unmasking, he posed the greatest threat to the Webslinger. That could not be allowed. So far the self proclaimed protector had only a glimpse of the young menace, but it didn't matter, his face would be revealed soon enough. The assassin just hoped Peter could be silenced before he posted pictures of the super-hero unmasked.

Waiting patiently in the dark, a screaming young woman was seen running from the restaurant. The face was recognized immediately as the one from the train. Since it would be easier to find the Bugle employee, the killer slid out from the alley and stalked the next victim.

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The next day, Jameson grabbed Peter by the sleeve when he brought up his daily batch of photos and yelled, "Why can't you get a picture of Spider-man in the act?"

Pete just looked puzzled until JJ threw the evening special edition at him. Splashed across the front page were the headlines:

SPIDER-MAN GETS 3RD VICTIM. NOTE FOUND ON BODY.

Peter sank into the chair in front of Jameson's desk and scanned the story. He couldn't believe it. The victim was the woman he tried to talk to last night. I should have gone after her. To hell with anyone else. It was double his fault that she died. First for just being Spider-man, then by not going after her. If he had done just that, he could have saved the woman, caught the killer as well and prevented someone else's murder in the future.

"Hey, don't get comfortable, get down to this address. Big warehouse fire. Maybe the Webhead started it to cover up yet another murder." Jameson bellowed to Parker as he handed him a piece of paper.

Pete just stared at Jameson wanting to say something, but thought better of it.

"Well? What are you sitting there for? Get going!"

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Pete jogged as close to the fire as he could get, his mind still half on the latest victim. He tried to figure out if anyone was inside and needed Spider-man's help, or if he could get away with just being Peter Parker; photographer. He didn't care about the alleged murder allegations hanging over him as Spider-man. If someone's life was in danger he would still save them. However his question was answered when he overheard a couple of the firemen saying that the warehouse was empty at the time. He crept a little closer and snapped a couple of shots when his spider sense started to go off. He looked around and didn't see anyone or anything suspicious other than a few people gathered around to watch the inferno. He turned back towards the fire and wondered if something was going to happen which caused his internal alarm to go off. Maybe the building was going to collapse on a fireman or possibly explode, or maybe the murderer was here stalking another victim. But he didn't have a clue who could be the next victim. He slowly backed towards an alley prepared to run and change quickly if he needed to.

Pete stood on the edge of the shadows, staring at the flames, waiting for something to happen. His spider sense was still telling him something was wrong, but he couldn't place it. That's when he felt the fire in his back as a knife slid between his ribs just to the right of his spine. He instinctively reached behind him crying out in agony. Then everything went black.