TWIN DEMONS by Georgia Kennedy
Author's Notes
The reference to Stanley Leiber comes from Peter David, Spider-Man 2: The Official Novelization of the Film (New York, Random House Publishing Group, 2004), pp. 91-93. Known to the world as Stan Lee, Mr. Leiber is the creative genius who thrilled two generations of kids, your humble author included, and made all this possible. Thanks Stan.
Mary Jane's piggy-back ride is drawn from Peter David & Mike Wieringo, Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man No. 4 - The Other - Evolve or Die, Part 10 (March 2006).
The reference to the Queensboro (59th Street) Bridge comes from: Peter David, Spider-Man - The Official Novelization of the Film (New York, Random House Publishing Group, 2002), p. 292. In the movie, Mary Jane nearly slips and falls of the western tower of the bridge. Photographs of the real bridge, however, show that there are railings in place which would prevent that from happening. To remain consistent with the movieverse, I have chosen to leave the railing off.
Peter's line warning Mary Jane not to go looking for the cat is a reference to Alien, Copyright 2004 by 20th Century Fox Home Entertainment, Inc., All Rights Reserved.
Disclaimer
This is a derivative work of fiction featuring characters copyrighted and trademarked by Marvel Characters, Inc. It is based upon: Spider-Man, copyright 2002 by Columbia Pictures Industries, Inc., all rights reserved; Spider-Man 2, copyright 2004 by Columbia Pictures Industries, Inc., all rights reserved; Daredevil - Director's Cut, copyright 2004 by Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment, Inc., all rights reserved; and Hulk, copyright 2003 by Universal Studios, all rights reserved. The author is not connected with nor is this work authorized by Marvel Characters, Inc., or any of the aforementioned motion picture studios. This work is intended solely for posting on Fanfiction, for the benefit and enjoyment of its intended audience. No commercial or financial benefit accrues or is intended to accrue to the author as a result of said posting. Any unauthorized copying or redistribution of this work might subject the party responsible for such unauthorized copying or redistribution to legal action by the owners of the aforementioned copyrights and trademarks.
XX
A THRESHOLD MOMENT
Stanley Martin Leiber had seen most everything in his eighty-plus years. There were very few surprises that life could throw at him anymore, not the least of which was a bizarre auto chase that ended with a police car being suspended in mid-air by nothing but thread. Until that spectacle had unfolded in front of him, Mr. Leiber was thoroughly convinced that Spider-Man was a gimmick dreamed up by Madison Avenue to sell more dishwashing fluid. But even after he had seen the webslinger's handiwork dangerously up close, he steadfastly maintained that not even red and blue lightning could strike twice in the same place. On this bright, sunny Thursday morning, he would be thoroughly disabused of that notion.
While walking Beaufort, his fox terrier, the old man stopped on a street corner to chat with a neighbor. He had gotten so absorbed in the conversation that he dropped the dog's leash without realizing it. No sooner had Mr. Leiber released his hold on Beaufort when one of nature's gymnasts bolted down the side of a tree and shot past the dog, into the street. Driven by thousands of years of canine instincts, Beaufort took off after the swift grey squirrel . . . straight into the path of an oncoming taxi.
"Beaufort, stay!" Leiber screamed, certain that the animal was doomed. But before he could even take a step, he felt a breeze and saw that now-familiar streak of red and blue . . . and pink? And then suddenly, Beaufort was back on the side walk, tied to a lamp post half a block away. The little terrier seemed none the worse for the wear.
As he was hurrying over to Beaufort, Stanley Leiber happened to catch a fleeting glimpse of Spider-Man, just before the webslinger took off again. He very nearly had a coronary. My God, he's got eight legs! Leiber thought frantically. Four of those legs appeared to be growing out of the wallcrawler's back.
"Okay, you dopey hound," Leiber ordered as he untied his faithful companion. "That's the end of our walk. Let's get the hell home." Thankfully, the dog did not put up any resistance.
XXXXXXXXXX
"Whoooopeeeeee!" Mary Jane Watson yelled as she and Peter Benjamin Parker swooped down from the skies at a speed and angle that made the roller coasters at Coney Island seem like merry-go-rounds. Peter's spider-sense had gone off, alerting him to the fact that a dog was chasing a squirrel into heavy traffic. Timing the release of his webline perfectly, he scooped up the dog with one hand and the squirrel with the other, all before his feet touched the ground. He gently released the squirrel onto the sidewalk as he landed. Then he quickly secured the dog to a streetlight so that his master would find him.
With Mary Jane strapped tightly to his back, he once again zoomed toward the Met Life Building. It wasn't exactly the Fortress of Solitude, but for a superhero on a budget, it would do nicely. After his latest demonstration of extreme gymnastics, he wanted to make sure that his fiancée's face was not the same color as her eyes.
But M.J. proved to be quite resilient. "Show off," she laughed as they alighted on top of the long-abandoned heliport.
"Just braking for animals," Peter retorted modestly, relieved that Mary Jane was able to handle his more difficult maneuvers. "How's your camouflage holding up?"
M.J. tugged at the olive-colored billed cap and sunglasses she was wearing to avoid being recognized, held in place by extremely thin, but unbreakable web strands. Then she shook her head from side to side. The cap remained solidly in place. "Fine," she reported.
It had taken Mary Jane a while to put the disguise on. Peter had to help her stuff her hair under the cap and fashion the webbing so that it wouldn't stick to her face, an extremely delicate operation that took several tries. Unfortunately, the cap did not go well with her pink warm-up suit. In fact, it did not go at all. But in the interests of staying hidden from prying eyes, especially those of a certain reporter from a particular tabloid, Mary Jane did not quibble.
Likewise, she did not complain about having to carry his clothes on her back. She had watched in awe as he spun a makeshift web sack and quickly stuffed his shirt, slacks, shoes, and jacket inside. "It won't mess up your outfit," he had promised as he sealed up the open end of the sack and gingerly placed it across her shoulders, like a knapsack, just before they took off from the roof of her building.
"Are you okay, Tiger?" Mary Jane asked, hoping that Peter was not having second thoughts about the lease they had just signed.
"Sure, M.J.," he replied. "I like the place . . .really."
Acting on Matt Murdock's tip, they had managed to find a spacious apartment in the heart of Hell's Kitchen, a Shangri-la hidden within an urban jungle full of bars, strip joints and adult bookstores. The place boasted a cathedral ceiling with skylights and fans, a loft with its own veranda, and a jacuzzi-style tub in the master bathroom, complete with hot water jets. The only reason the apartment was still on the market after nearly a year was that its previous occupant had been a mobster named Jose Quesada. Quesada was a ruthless under-boss in the Kingpin's criminal empire who had met his end under the most gruesome of circumstances. That, together with the Kitchen's reputation for violence was enough to scare away many prospective tenants, which proved to be a boon for the newly-engaged young couple.
Peter, however, had been a little hesitant. At first, he hadn't intended to move in with Mary Jane, preferring instead to wait until after they got married, a few months hence. But M.J.'s charm proved irresistible, and when she turned his own signature lost-puppy expression right back on him with those magnificent eyes of hers, he caved . . . and signed.
"Are you sure we can handle the rent?" Peter asked tentatively.
Although it had only been five days since they became engaged, Mary Jane already knew her fiancé well enough to gauge his feelings. She could still detect a faint trace of reluctance in his voice.
"Peter, that's not a problem," M.J. patiently reassured him for the third time. With her trademark smile, she added, "You should feel privileged that I'm letting you contribute." Until then, Peter had no idea how much money she was pulling down between her acting gig and her modeling contract with Emma Rose. When she didn't flinch at the amount the landlady quoted, Peter realized that she was doing a lot better than he had previously imagined.
She pressed her cheek softly against his masked face. "You're worried about telling Aunt May, aren't you?"
"Is it that obvious?"
"When you called her, you had this look on your face like you were going to the principal's office."
"Well, Aunt May was always harping on how I need to hold onto that insurance money. She wouldn't even let me help her out when she was behind in her mortgage payments on the old place. I can only imagine how she'll feel when she finds out that half that money's gone."
"So what?" Mary Jane pointed out. "You'll have it replenished in no time, once you start working again." She turned his hidden face toward her and gazed deeply into his mirrored eyepieces, slightly bemused at her distorted reflection. "Come on, Pete," she inquired lovingly, "What's really bothering you?"
"Um . . .uh . . . you and I . . .", he stammered, his thoughts in a jumble as he suddenly reverted back to his old form. "We . . . well, you know, we . . ." From the way Peter's tongue was getting all tied up in knots, Mary Jane knew exactly what he was finding so difficult to articulate.
"We had sex," she said with a soft giggle, imagining how red his face must have been getting behind that mask.
"Twice," Peter added anxiously. "You know how Aunt May is about these things. She might worry that you're pregnant."
"No she won't," Mary Jane reassured him. She found it utterly amazing that this frail old woman could put the fear of God into her god-like nephew. "You know what I think?"
Peter shook his head.
"She'll be thrilled once she sees the ring." Mary Jane said optimistically. "Now will you please stop worrying? You're starting to get me nervous."
"I'm sorry about that, M.J. Really. But sooner or later, we'll have to tell her that we're moving in together." He was beginning to feel the combined weight of numerous catechism classes, altar boy stints, and his aunt's deeply held convictions, all of which came down firmly against living together outside of holy matrimony.
M.J. had an answer for that too. "How's about we fly out to Las Vegas this weekend?" she asked seductively, lightly touching his spandex-covered brow. "Then you can move in right after we get back."
Peter laughed in spite of his misgivings. "At least we wouldn't have to live in sin." He waited for her response.
It did not come. Instead, he felt her chin lift off his left shoulder.
Turning his face toward her's he quickly understood why Mary Jane had suddenly fallen silent. She was staring straight ahead, in a northeasterly direction, toward the East River. Following her gaze, his eyes fell upon the 59th Street Bridge, the very place were, eighteen months ago, Mary Jane Watson had almost lost her life at the hands of a madman.
When M.J. spoke again, it was with a steely determination. "I want you to take me over there, Pete." She pointed to the bridge.
Peter's jaw fell inside his mask. "Why?" he asked, unable to believe that she really wanted to go back to the scene of her ultimate nightmare, and his for that matter.
"To use your words, there's something I've got to do."
It didn't take Peter long to figure out what was on Mary Jane's mind. "The western tower?" he asked, trying to hide his anxiety.
She nodded affirmatively. "Don't worry," she said with a gentle firmness, acknowledging his unspoken concerns. "I know what I'm doing. So please, don't get all bent out of shape over this."
But Peter was already bent out of shape. He was not happy at all about M.J. deliberately choosing to relive one of the most horrifying experiences of both their lives. He did not try to talk her out of it, however. He had made a solemn promise to her that he would respect whatever decisions she made, and he was not about to renege on that promise. He would just have to swallow his misgivings and keep his anxieties to himself. After checking to make sure she was secure, Peter took off, his heart in his throat.
In less than two minutes, they had arrived at the rusting, hundred-year-old span. As he climbed up the ancient girders to the platform straddling the westernmost of its four towers, he could not help wondering whether it would crumble beneath their feet. As soon as they mounted the platform, he quickly glanced around to see if they had been spotted. The mid-day traffic in and out of Manhattan was still flowing uninterrupted beneath them. On the river, a barge was approaching from the South. None of the deck hands were looking in their direction. And, thankfully, no one on the Roosevelt Island tram had seen them either. It was all a normal scene, a far cry from the mayhem and destruction that had occurred here less than two years ago.
"Cut me loose," Mary Jane ordered firmly.
"Okay, M.J.", he replied as he snapped the web strands that had kept her from slipping off his back. "But if anybody gets a bead on us, we move. Capito?"
"Understood," Mary Jane agreed. "I promise, this won't take more than a minute."
It would be a very long minute for Peter. M.J. closed her eyes and drew a few deep breaths, as if preparing herself for a fire-walk. Opening her eyes, she stepped right up to the south edge of the platform, to the very spot where she nearly fell after awakening from a sleep induced by a forcefully administered anesthetic. Her breathing became more labored as she gritted her teeth, stood at the edge of the platform, and stared straight down at the river, silently daring the Green Goblin to reach up from the very depths of hell and try to grab her again. "I . . . AM . . . NOT . . . AFRAID . . ." she proclaimed with a shout, knowing that no one except Peter, and maybe Matt if he were paying attention, could hear her.
As for Peter, he just stood there, not saying a word, his heart pounding. He was watching her intently, ready to respond in an instant if she lost her balance, or, God forbid, slipped. He wondered if she could hear the Goblin's maniacal cackling in the back of her mind, the way he could.
As the seconds ticked away, Mary Jane's breathing slowed down and she became more visibly relaxed. Stepping back from the edge of the platform, she turned toward Peter, a big, broad, toothy smile spreading across her face. Suddenly, the purpose of this outwardly bizarre ritual became clear to him. She had professed to wanting to help him conquer his demons, but recognized that she would have to walk the walk and conquer her own demons first. And she did it, entirely on her own, without any prompting from him at all. Her willingness to face down her fears moved him deeply.
"You've got balls, lady," Peter said as she glided into his arms for a passionate embrace.
"I love you, Tiger,"she whispered as their lips came together.
"Does this mean we can go now?" Peter asked when their kiss broke, anxious to get out of there as quickly as possible. The bridge was already bringing back too many ugly memories for him.
"Absolutely," Mary Jane practically sang as Peter spun them a fresh set of web-straps. It took a little longer for him to complete the cocooning process because the platform was so narrow. When he finished, he checked the webbing three times to make sure she was locked down tight. Just before taking off, he saw their combined shadow on the steel grid beneath their feet. He pointed it out to M.J.
"Ugh!" she cringed. "We look like some carnivorous alien life form."
"Just don't go looking for that cat by yourself," Peter kidded as he leaped into the void, fired a webline at the second tower of the Queensboro Bridge, and headed off in an easterly direction, toward Forest Hills.