The killer moved among the train passengers largely being ignored and going unnoticed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Pete was wheeled back into his room by a muscle-bound but friendly orderly. "Mr. Parker, you surprised Lexi this morning. She said you're doing very well with your physical therapy."

"Uh, thanks. By the way, where's Mr. Brown?" asked Peter as he looked upon the empty bed.

"He went on to a long term care facility. You'll probably have a new roommate shortly."

As they passed the vacated bed heading towards his own, a gruff looking gentleman stood up from the chair parked next to it. But before he could say anything, the orderly spoke up, "Mr. Parker will be with your shortly Detective. But first I want to get him settled back into bed. He just had a strenuous therapy session."

Maneuvering the wheelchair next to the bed he said, "Ready, Mr. Parker?"

He nodded, "By the way, you can call me Pete."

"Ok, Pete. On the count of three, you lift with your legs and I'll support you under your arms."

Pete grunted in pain as he was half lifted back onto his bed. He might be a fast healer, but he had still been seriously injured.

"I'll let the nurse know you are back from session so she can give you your meds. See you tomorrow, Mr. P… uh, Pete," the orderly said as he left.

The injured man turned to his visitor, "Detective?"

"Detective Shore," the man said as he held out his hand to Peter. "I'm working the Spider-man murders case."

Pete cringed at the way he said that. "You think Spider-man did this to me?"

"No, we're almost sure it isn't the webhead doing any of the murders. That's just how we refer to the case now. What can you tell me of the attack?"

"Absolutely nothing. I was taking pictures of the fire for the Bugle when I got stabbed in the back. I saw nothing. But I heard that a fireman saw the attacker."

"We already interviewed him. Are you sure you didn't see, or hear anything? Did he wear cologne? Have bad breath or body odor? Were the clothes old or baggy? Did he grunt or whisper anything?"

"Sorry Detective. Nothing. All I remember is the searing pain and wondered why I was being attacked."

The detective handed Peter a card, "If you think of anything, give me a call, ok?" Then left.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jameson grabbed the phone at Betty's insistence. A hoarse whisper, obviously disguised, blared bluntly, "You moron! You've got it all wrong. You're not getting the message. Spider-man is too busy protecting others to shield himself. I need to do that for him. Cease your attacks on him or you're next."

The caller hung up. J. Jonah Jameson just stood there, dumbfounded, staring at the phone receiver still stuck in his hand. For once, he was speechless.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Seven people sat around a well used dinning room table in a small but adequate New York apartment. Mark Greer was chairing the meeting. Nancy, the blond, and one of the four that visited Peter in the hospital the evening before found another person who was on the train but not on the list. Madison was a middle-aged African-American woman who actually helped move the unconscious young hero further back into the train to safety. But nauseated by what happened next, she quickly left after Doc Ock cold-cocked the weakened Spider-man and snatched him away to horrors unknown.

Another hospital visitor was there, the still cynical Alfred. Fred was able to get two more from the list to come to the meeting. Hugh was the big fellow who was the first to challenge Doc Ock to try to take Spider-man from the train and Mary really wasn't involved other than a quick glimpse. But just being here at the meeting trying to help the man who saved all their lives made her feel more a part of the 'family'.

Bobby rounded out the attendees. He felt out of place amongst all these people. Although he was initiated into 'the club' because he found out Spider-man's identity, his life wasn't saved by the superhero. He wasn't sent through the trauma the others were. And his life most probably wasn't threatened by the self anointed executioner.

Mary who was sitting next to Bobby started idle chat before the meeting got started. She was curious about how Bobby knew the secret.

"So, how did you find out? Did anyone else see?"

"Not that I know of." Bobby replied. "When we first checked the injury, I think my partner saw some red or blue, but that was through the jacket. He probably thought the same thing I did, that it was just the lining. He was driving when I started the IV and heart monitor." Bobby snorted a small smile thinking back on that ambulance ride. "I remember grabbing the kid's shirt on either side of the buttons, and as I yanked open his top I was looking away to the heart patches that I was planning to put on him. One of the buttons popped me on the face and I thought it was a good thing I was looking away because I might have gotten hit in the eye. When I looked back at my patient, there was this red and blue costume with a black spider sitting in the middle of it. I must have uttered something because my partner called back asking if everything was alright. I gave him some excuse about the button hitting me as I just stared at Peter. All I could think of was how young he was. At first, I thought it must be a joke or something. Maybe he was planning on going to a costume party. But none of my ideas made sense. Then the realization hit me that this guy had to be the real deal, so I looked up to make sure Stew, my partner, was paying attention to driving. I quickly cut off Spidey's top and stuffed it in my pocket. When we got to the hospital, I was pushed out of the way when Dr. Jackson took control. Knowing that I got only part of the outfit off, I snuck behind the curtain to try to get the rest of it. I found Dr. Jackson doing what I had planned to do, that's why he seemed to have taken over so abruptly. He knows. When he saw I had the top, realizing I now knew, he had me help him. Actually it was kinda funny. Here were two men, struggling and yanking at a spandex suit just about glued onto the patient." Bobby chuckled at the thought and shook his head, "Anyways, I just came up for a visit last night since I was on another run here. That's when I ran into everyone else in the hallway. The rest is history. What about you? Were you on the train?"

"Yeah, but I really don't know why I'm here. I didn't get a very good look at the guy. I wouldn't have been able to pick him out of a lineup. Heck, I still don't really know what he looks like." Then with an impish grin added, "Maybe I will visit him in the hospital later."

At that moment, the last expected member, Teddy, exploded onto the scene. He was the forth of the hospital entourage. He gripped a paper in his hands, "Did you see this?" he bellowed and slammed it down on the table for all to see.

SPIDERMAN ORDERS HITMAN TO DO DIRTYWORK

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF'S LIFE THREATENED

Mark said it all, "Oh crap, now what?"

He quickly scanned the article then relayed the news to the others, "Seems someone called that boob Jameson and told him that Spider-man wasn't doing the killings, he was. And if Jameson continued to smear Spider-man, he would be the next victim. Jameson now has a 24 hour bodyguard."

Alfred, true to form, asked, "Do you think that's true? That Spider-man hired someone to do this?"

Not a word was said, but the man was glared down from the rest of the people into a small puddle on the chair. Bad idea, he thought.

"Man, we have to do SOMETHING to catch this nutcase," Hugh said.

"That's what we're here for. To try to become amateur sleuths and find this guy." Mark assured.

"I can probably be of some help." Bobby volunteered. "I have access to the hospital records. I can see if anything was tampered with. Not to mention, I date a cop. She works at the 53rd, which is the precinct that is investigating these crimes."

Several of the people nodded, they liked the idea. Mark asked, "Can you get the names of the people treated for injuries that day on the train? From what I have gathered, it would mostly, if not all, be those on the first car."

"I'll try. Maybe the killer himself was treated at the hospital that day."

"Also, what can you give us from the cops that is not public knowledge or in the papers? Does your girlfriend know you know?"

"No, she doesn't. I'm not sure I can get anything, but all I can do is try. They are pretty hush-hush on this. It's a major crime spree with a big name attached to it."

Fred, ever impatient pushed, "So, what are we going do about this? Sit around until this fireman does something?"

"I'm a paramedic," Bobby said coarsely.

"Whatever. So, my question is, what are we going to do about this?" he repeated.

"Alfred, that's what we are here for. To brainstorm and figure out our next plan of action."

The room came abuzz with ideas and suggestions flying about. Everyone had their own agenda that they thought would be the best way to go.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Pete received a visitor that lifted his spirits. MJ had been there the whole first day when he did not wake up but left to take an exhausted Aunt May home. Just the sight of her, the sun pouring in on her red hair was enough to make him feel completely better. At least until he tried to move. Then he was reminded how hurt he was.

"I can't stay as long today Pete, I have a dress rehearsal this afternoon for the play tonight. But you've got me all morning." Looking beyond the curtain to make sure no other ears were listening, she asked, "So, was that a story that you needed to make up because you were, you-know-who?"

Pete shook his head. "No, I really was just taking pix of a fire for Jameson. I was totally caught off guard. I'm still not completely sure why I was attacked. I mean, I was on the train and all, but as Spider-man, not a witness. If the killer was silencing the witnesses then why me? And if it is one of the people who saw Spidey's identity doing the killing, won't they know that he's me? I'm totally baffled."

"Could your attack be something totally different?"

"The cops think it was the Spider-man killer." He looked down, obviously upset. "That's what they are calling this…..the Spider-man murders. I guess they have sufficient evidence to lump me in with the rest."

After a moment's pause, Peter got a worried look on his face, "You take extra care of yourself, MJ. I don't know how the murderer is connecting people to Spider-man. But if he went after me, and I wasn't on the train…I mean not on the train as Peter, then who knows who else the killer will go after.

She leaned over and kissed him, "Don't worry Tiger, I will stay away from dark alleys."

Looking at Peter, she asked, "There's something else too, isn't there?"

Slowly Pete nodded hesitating a moment.

The moment seemed like an eternity, but she knew better than to push too hard too soon. Her patience was rewarded.

"I'm thinking that if I come out of the closet, so to speak," Pete began, "I will end the reason why the killer is doing what he's doing."

Mary Jane stood there, surprised, but not surprised at the same time. She gave it some thought then asked, "So, what about all the ramifications you talk about? That the enemies of Spider-man would go after the ones he loves? Not to mention, where would you live that you would be safe from your enemies and the media? Along those same lines, how will those close to you, like Aunt May and me, how will we handle all the media? I know why you are heading in that line of thought, but truthfully Peter, I don't think you can."

"Well, I could just stop being Spider-man."

"I think if you tell the world who you were, you would definitely have to stop being Spider-man. But even that wouldn't end it. Because there will always be someone who will come looking for you asking for your help. Or someone looking for you to get revenge. And what about all those people who Spider-man would have saved if he was still in business? I can keep going on and on. I have a plethora of excuses in my head, but I think you know them all already."

"The only option left would be for Spider-man to die."

"You're not seriously thinking that, are you Peter?!!"

"No, but, the killings have to stop, MJ!" Peter cried in anguish.

"I know," she said softly as she caressed his cheek. "I know. We'll think of something."

She looked at her watch. "Oh, I gotta go. I'll try to be back later. Please don't do anything rash. We'll find a solution to this. I promise."

As she was walking out the door, a young man, about Pete's age with short dark hair was wheeled in and placed in the next bed.

"Hi" he said cheerfully. "My name's Pete. Pete Barrow."

"Hey, I'm Peter Parker. What are you here for?"

"I broke my leg skiing."

"Skiing? Aren't you are little far from the slopes here?"

"Well, actually I was buying a new pair and trying them out on the fake slope that the store has. The ski stuck in a tear of the slope material. I went down one way and the leg went the other."

"Ow! That's gotta hurt. Probably gonna ruin your ski season, huh?"

The new Pete nodded, then asked, "What are you in here for?"

Pete hesitated. He really didn't want to talk about the stabbing, especially since it was related to Spider-man. But he knew it would come out eventually. So he answered, "I was stabbed. In the back."

"That was you? The photographer who was taking pictures of that warehouse fire? Spider-man attacked you?"

"No! Spider-man did not attack me," Peter said vehemently. "The police think the nut going around killing people in the name of Spider-man did it. But it wasn't Spider-man!"

"Hey, I'm cool. I didn't know."

"Um, sorry. I didn't mean to jump all over you. It's just that I kinda know Spider-man and I get tired of him getting dissed all the time."

Pete, realizing that he was going to need the facilities soon and also knowing it was going to take a while for him to hobble those 5 feet from bed to bathroom, slowly started to get out of bed. "Man, this sucks," he said to his roommate.

"Yeah, we're both in the same boat on this one, huh?"

"Pete grinned as he thought. Yeah, two infirmed Petes needing help to get to the john.

The other Pete was flicking through the TV channels when he heard a voice call his name, "Peter?"

"Yeah? That's me."

"Good."

A person in a white coat walked up to the bed-ridden young man and pulled a syringe out of the pocket. After inserting the needle into Peter's IV line and emptying the contents, the lab coated person left without so much as a sound. Before he realized that anything was wrong, the young man's eyes rolled to the back of his head and the heart monitor alarm sounded.

The roommate exited the restroom to a torrent of people and a cacophony of noise similar to what he had seen on TV versions of hospital emergencies. Although no one was screaming CODE BLUE, CODE BLUE, a crash cart with epinephrine, a defibrillator, back board and other emergency paraphernalia was brought in and being used to save the young man in the other bed. Pete slowly limped back to his bed and watched the commotion. He was quiet as he watched their frenzied, dedicated attempt to resuscitate the young man he had been speaking to just moments ago.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A knock came to the door as Leonard was sitting on his thread-bare puke-green sofa, watching the game. He had on worn gray slacks held up by suspenders over an age-yellowed undershirt. A chewed stogie stuck in the corner of his mouth.

"Now what?" he mumbled to himself. "Probably another clogged toilet from those assholes who flush diapers down it."

"Alright already, I'm coming, I'm coming," he yelled.

His slippers slapped the ground as he approached the door and peered through the peephole. Seeing two well dressed gentlemen he unbolted three locks and cracked open the door enough to stick his head through.

"Yeah?" he growled.

Alfred, standing behind, poked Mark in the back and whispered, "Gawd, this guy looks like the stereotypical Hollywood super, gack "

"Mr. Rosenberg?" Mark asked as he furtively elbowed Fred.

"Baum!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Baum. Rosenbaum." Leo corrected.

"Mr. Leonard Rosenbaum?" Mark asked again.

"Yeah. So who are you?"

"Mr. Rosenbaum, we would like to ask you a few questions about JoeSchlechenger." Mark said politely and professionally.

"You cops?"

"No, we're investigators. Do we look like cops to you?" Alfred growled.

"No you don't. But what do you need to know that I already didn't tell the cops?" Leo retorted back.

"We want to know what you know about Joe. What can you tell us?"

"Well I'm not gonna stand here in the hallway discussing it. Come in and sit. Beer?" Leo offered gruffly.

Wrinkling his nose in disgust, Alfred said, "No thanks, we don't want, uh, I mean, we don't need to stay that long."

Mark started off the interrogation, "How well did you know Mr. Schlechenger?"

With a loud snuffle, Leo exclaimed, "He was a good friend of mine. It's a shame what Spider-man did to him."

"Rumor has it, it's not Spider-man," Mark replied.

"Whatever. When they catch the guy, I'm gonna sue the bastard for taking away my rent. My bread and butter. Uh, my best friend."

Alfred already getting pissed raised his voice, "but you kicked him out for non-payment of rent. He was homeless when he was murdered."

"That? Oh that was only to light a fire under Joe's ass. I loved the guy like a brother. I really wasn't kicking him out."

Mark pushing his good luck asked, "Can we see his apartment?"

"Sorry, someone's in there already. Besides, you need a search warrant."

"How did you get to find the body first?" grilled Alfred.

"I was worried about him. Hey, who are you investigating this for, anyway?" Leo said suspiciously.

"I'm sorry, that's classified. Where were you when Joe was murdered?" Mark asked trying to get back on track.

"As I told the police, I was fixing someone's toilet. Keeps flushing diapers down it. Now if you don't mind, I gotta get back to work." Leo said abruptly and ushered the two out the door.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Pete sat dazed on his bed as he watched the body of his short-term roommate wheeled out of the room.

"Mr. Parker."

"Mr. Parker!"

Pete shook his head, and broke out of his trance, "Yeah?" He saw that Detective Shore was standing over him.

"What can you tell me about what just happened?"

Looking at the empty bed, the young man answered, "I was in the bathroom. When I came out there were several doctors and nurses working on that guy. He was fine just a few minutes earlier." Looking up at the detective he added, "His first name was Peter, did you know that?"

"Yeah." Then looking sharply at Peter asked, "Why, do you think there's a connection?"

"I'm the only living victim of…" he hesitated, swallowed hard, then spit out, "…the Spider-man murders. And we are both named Peter. Yeah, I think there's a connection."

"You're a smart young man. But a lousy reporter. You were within inches of the killer twice and you didn't notice a thing."

Peter answered sourly, "I'm a photographer, not a reporter."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next day, the same table filled up with members of the Spider-man Anti-Defamation League as they were calling themselves. Two new faces appeared, Joan and Robert, a married couple that Mark got hold of from her name on the list. But missing this evening were Mary and Teddy.

Mark started off, "We have a suspect."

"Really? That was fast," stated Nancy. "Who?"

"It's that Super that Pete gave us the name of when we called on him in the hospital. Fred and I paid him a visit. He gave us some cock-n-bull story about him being a close friend and was worried about Joe."

"Yeah, we didn't believe him from the start." Fred jumped in before Mark could finish. "He said that he knew Joe was a bit despondent and worried about losing his home. Well if I recall, that Joe fella wasn't just worried about losing his home, the Bugle said he was actually homeless. Some friend that Leo fella was, huh? Kicked Joe right out."

"Should we tell the police?" Madison asked.

"Tell them what? We got nothing but suspicion. I think we should break in and search the place." Fred proclaimed.

"Whoa, wait a minute. I think that is a bit too drastic, don't you think? Aside from breaking the law, it's very dangerous, especially if he really is the murderer. He won't think twice about killing any of us. In fact we would probably be making it easier for him just showing up at his doorstep. I think maybe tailing him might be the better option." Mark countered.

The noise level rose a decibel as all voices started to speak at once. Everyone had their opinion on what they should do about the Super.

"Well, actually, I think we have another suspect too." Bobby announced loudly.

When the voices died down and all eyes were on him he continued, "My girlfriend's tongue got a little loosened last night, after we celebrated her first promotion with a lot of champagne. It's not much, but she said that a pin, the kind they give to railroad personnel after 15 years of service, was found at Lisa's murder. I didn't see it, but the public doesn't know about it. Now we know that the engineer saw Pete's face. And he definitely looked like he could have worked for the railroad for 15 yrs. I think he could be a suspect. I don't remember where the conductor was, though. I don't know if he saw Pete's face. I think we need to explore that a bit more, dontcha think?"

Once again the volume rose several octaves as everyone voiced their opinion at once. Until Mark's phone rang. Taking his cell phone out at the same time shushing the cacophony, he answered.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" he asked, then mouthed to everyone there, 'It's Peter'.

"Say what?! Repeat what you just said, Pete. Oh. God. Yeah, Yeah, Ok, I will let everyone know. Thanks and you take care of yourself, please."

"What?" "What did he say?" "What's wrong?" "Did something happen?" "Tell us what happened."

The questions flew at Mark. But he quickly quieted everyone. "There was an attempt on Pete's life earlier today. He had a roommate also named Peter. Apparently that guy was given an overdose of sodium, table salt, in his IV and he died of cardiac arrest. Our Pete wasn't in his bed at the time, but since it is now classified a murder and Pete is the only live witness to the murderer, the cops are thinking it was a botched attempt to get to him. They put a guard outside his door."

There were several gasps, when Alfred spoke up. "We were talking to Leo this afternoon. That blows him away as a suspect."

Then looking around the table he said suspiciously, "It could have been any one of us, except Mark and me."

"Now wait just a minute, Fred, Mark didn't say what time the murder took place, so how would you know if the Super was a suspect or not. Or you, for that matter? You're always ready to point the finger at someone. And you're the right size too. You're not very tall."

Hugh then stepped in, "Well that leaves me out, no one would mistake me for being five foot anything."

Madison spoke up, "Well, who said it has to be just one person?"