With Great Power Comes Great Leverage

Chapter 6

"Peter!" said Eliot. "Get out of there now! Go!"

Peter was frozen with fear. He couldn't have moved if he'd wanted to.

"You have invaded my place of business," said Fisk. "That alone will result in your death. Give me what is in that backpack you wear, and I will make your death merciful."

"No, thanks," said Peter. "I've heard of your idea of mercy. You're more of a do-it-yourself kind of guy, aren't you?"

"A man, no matter how rarified a position he holds, should never be afraid to get his hands dirty," said Fisk. "But before you die, you must tell me. You are clearly one of these men who are blessed with abilities. A Captain America, perhaps, or are the abilities augmented, like Tony Stark's Iron Man? Or are you from elsewhere, like the one with the hammer?"

Peter said nothing. After a moment, Fisk continued.

"I suppose it does not matter," he said. "But still… a man with your abilities, to commit common thievery… I must ask, why? Why do you do this? Who are you working for?"

Peter said, "Of course. You don't know who I am. You don't know me. You don't know why I'm doing this."

"Don't answer him," said Eliot.

Hardison added, "Don't tell him ANYTHING."

Peter ignored the voices from the comms.

"I have some things to say," said Peter. "Things I wanted to say ever since I knew who you were. These are things that are very important to me. I wrote them down, so I wouldn't forget, in case I ran into you."

He pulled out some index cards.

"What are you doing?" said Eliot. "Parker, what is he doing?"

"No idea," said Parker.

Peter coughed, and read the first card.

"You are so fat," he said, "that when you cut yourself shaving, marshmallow fluff comes out."

Wilson Fisk was immobile with disbelief. He literally could not believe what he had just heard. No one had spoken to him like that since he was in grade school.

"No?" said Peter. "How about this one? You are so fat that your high school yearbook photo was taken from a blimp."

Fisk clenched his hands. His face grew red.

"Tough room," said Peter. "How about… you're so fat that when you get on a scale, it says, 'one at a time.'"

Fisk screamed, and ran at Peter with outstretched hands. "YOU SON OF A…."

"Your belly button makes an echo. When you back up we hear a beeping sound."

Peter let his spider-sense guide him, and easily dodged Fisk's attacks with his speed and agility.

"How about this?" said Peter. "You are so fat and arrogant and evil that you think you can rob and steal, corrupt people, and do whatever you want because you have all the power. But I'm gonna tip everything you own right down on top of you."

He dodged once more, and landed next to the hole in the broken window.

"Because," he said, "I have all the leverage."

He jumped out, grabbing on to the glass, and ran on all fours around the corner. He heard Fisk screaming out the window behind him.

"I'm almost back," said Hardison. "Which side?"

"Uh…." Peter looked where he was going. "Front. I'll be down in a few seconds."

He heard a screech of tires, and saw Hardison's van turn the corner and drive along the front of the building. Peter leaped for a tree. It was almost out of his range, but he caught a branch and hit the ground running.

"Keep driving!" yelled Peter, and with a hop and jump he hit the side of the van, and stuck there. "Go!"

Hardison kept driving with one hand, and rolled the front window down with the other. Peter climbed in.

"You're-so-fat jokes?" said Hardison. "Really?"

"What, did I violate the thieves union rules?" said Peter. "I'm not a 'bad guy,' Hardison. I'm just a kid."

The van pulled up short, letting Parker and Eliot get in.

"No tails," said Eliot. "We're good."

"So you guys do that kind of thing all the time," said Peter. "Wow."

"Usually without fat jokes," said Parker.

"It's… a bit of a rush," said Peter. He looked down. "My hands are shaking. Why are my hands shaking?"

"You get used to it," said Parker.

"Not sure I want to," muttered Peter. He looked back. "Hey, what are you doing?"

Parker was emptying Peter's backpack, dumping the disks into an overnight box. Eliot was changing shirts to one that looked like a shipping company.

"We've got to get them to someone who can do the right thing," said Hardison. "All the paperwork from the arena, too. A reporter can do a lot with that. The stories will run for weeks."

"You didn't tell me?" said Peter.

"Wasn't your part of the job," said Eliot.

"It's your first time," said Parker. She handed the sealed box to Eliot. "We wanted to avoid giving you any distractions, Mr. Fat Jokes."

Peter smiled. "I couldn't resist. He's just so big!"

The van pulled up at the Daily Bugle building. Eliot hopped out, and ran inside the front door with the package. After talking with the security guard at the front desk, Eliot entered the elevators. In a few minutes, he came back out.

"All delivered," he said. "He'll see it on his desk in the morning."

"Who's it for?" asked Peter.

"A reporter named Ben Urich," said Hardison. "He publishes stories about corruption, and he'll know what to do with the disks, especially when he sees a murder on one of them. Forty-eight hours from now, New York's Kingpin of Crime will either be in jail or fleeing the country." She smiled. "We'll put some pressure on the judge once the news comes out, and your neighborhood will be safe."

"Wow," said Peter. "I mean… wow. I mean… thank you."

They drove back to their HQ, and collapsed into chairs. Hardison was still a little worried that someone might be following them, but Peter told them he didn't sense any danger, which made Eliot smile.

"I could've used a spider-sense in a lot of places I've been," he said.

"What were you doing in those places?" asked Peter.

Eliot closed his eyes. "Stuff I don't do anymore." He stood up. "Get changed, kid," he said. "I'll drive you home."

Peter was quiet on the drive home. Eliot let him have his space for a few minutes, then spoke up.

"So," he said, "fat jokes aside, you did pretty well. What did you think of the work?"

Peter thought. "It was… exciting. Scary. Is it worth it? To risk your lives like this?"

"Yes," said Eliot. "We're doing a lot of good for people who don't have anyone else to help them. There's no fame or glory—I mean, we aren't 'The Amazing Spider-Man'—but I can sleep at night." Eliot looked over at Peter. "And there have been times in my life when I didn't sleep well."

Peter nodded. "The 'Amazing' part was just for the wrestling match," he said. "I liked the other one I came up with—'Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man.' I could get to like helping ordinary folks. People like my aunt."

"There are a lot of people like your aunt," said Eliot.

"My uncle… he told me something before he died," said Peter. "He said that with great power comes great responsibility. Since the spider bite, I have all this power, and I think I need to do something good with it."

He was quiet for a moment. "You know I let him get away," said Peter, in a quiet voice. "You were there. The manager cheated me, paid me less than I deserved. I was angry at him, so I let the thief get away. And then he murdered my uncle."

"With great power comes great responsibility," said Eliot, letting Peter have his grief. "I like it. Kind of a noblesse oblige thing." He glanced over at Peter. "It's French."

"Yeah, I saw The Scarlet Pimpernel, too," said Peter. "They made us watch it in British Lit."

"Not everybody we take down is like the Kingpin," said Eliot. "Bad guys come in all sizes. But we could use the help, and if you want to help people, you could use some training."

"You want me to join you," said Peter. "Be a thief."

"No," said Eliot, "we want you to join us, and be a 'good guy.' We haven't had a 'good guy,' an honest man, on our team since Nate left. Maybe it's time we had another one. The pay's good, too."

Peter chuckled. "My aunt could use the money," he said. "But I'm still in high school, you know. You guys go all over the world."

"It's an after school job," said Eliot. "We'll call it an internship or something. You help us out while we're in the city. Your aunt doesn't lose the house, you put a lot of money away for college, we help people."

"College?" said Peter.

Eliot shrugged. "Gotta learn something in life."

Peter nodded. "And we keep this a secret from my aunt."

"Don't worry," said Eliot, "we're good with secrets."

They pulled up to Peter's house. Peter looked out the car window at it. It was just a small old house standing on a dark street, surrounded by other small old houses very much like it. A light was on upstairs, and he knew his aunt was waiting up for him.

"With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility," he repeated. He looked at Eliot, and stuck out his hand. "I'm in. I'll take the job."

"See you tomorrow after school," said Eliot, and shook his hand. "I'll let Hardison know, and he'll get you on the payroll. 'Night, kid… Peter."

Peter closed the door, and watched Eliot drive away.

Inside, he checked on his aunt.

"Peter?" she said. "You were out very late."

"Yeah, sorry about that," he said. "It turned into kind of a job interview. I guess I impressed them with my work ethic, or something. They want me to be an intern, they said. If you're okay with it, it would be an after school job, and they said the pay is good. I can earn enough to help out with things here."

"You don't have to worry about getting a job, Peter," said May. "We'll do fine."

Peter smiled. His aunt didn't want him to worry, and he knew it. "I know, Aunt May, but I want to help out, and this is a good job. I can learn a lot from them, and they help people. And I can save some money for college, too."

"Are they going to help us, dear?" she asked.

He nodded. "That's one reason I was late. They were waiting for… something, I'm not sure, but they said that a lot of stuff about the Ki… about Wilson Fisk is going to come out in the papers in the next few days. We'll be okay, Aunt May. We will."

"And did you help them, Peter?" she asked.

He smiled. "I organized some computer disks for them," he said. "So, can I take the job?"

Aunt May sighed. "I worry about you, Peter. But I think you'll be okay with those people. They seemed nice."

"They're good people," he agreed. "Thanks, Aunt May." He gave her a kiss, and went to his room. He kept the lights off and got into bed. He looked out his window into the night until he fell asleep.

Two days later, the headline in the Daily Bugle was "Wilson Fisk: Threat or Menace?" The article's last line reported that Fisk had left the country. Peter didn't read it, however—he was busy digging through his father's old files, looking for a particular journal he remembered. Finally, he found it.

"Eureka," he said. He opened the old journal to a bookmarked page filled with a complex biochemical formula. "Adhesive Test #392" was the title. Underneath, his father had written, "FAILURE. Dissolves in approx. 1 hour. Useless for industrial purposes."

Peter smiled. "You thought it was a failure, Dad, but I think it's perfect," he said. "I wonder if Hardison might want to make me a web-shooter?"

THE END.

I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. And yes, before you say anything, I blatantly absconded with the you're-so-fat jokes from Ultimate Spider-Man. They were too fun to leave alone.