II. Distraction

There was a time when I thought Tombstone was New York's Big Man of Crime. Tombstone… the better-known alias of the esteemed Mr. L. Thompson Lincoln: businessman, philanthropist, influential and upstanding citizen. All smug and secure sitting up in his penthouse office, all the while secretly profiting from every little scheme and racket going on the city. There was a time when I thought that Lincoln was public enemy number one. And all the while, I was having the wool pulled over my eyes like a clueless chump.

Tombstone was the real Big Man's number two, another conveniently positioned patsy keeping all of us misdirected while the Houdini behind the curtain pulled the strings. Another step removed between the actual crooks committing the crimes and the guy on top getting his cut from every last little operation. You can only imagine my shock when I found out that the real Big Man was actually Frederick Foswell.

I mean, I knew Foswell. And not as Spider-Man; as Peter Parker. He worked for the Bugle. One of Jameson's top reporters, even. Years ago, he broke the story that brought down New York's original crime boss, Silvio Manfredi—Silvermane. I respected him, a lot. I had thought that he was a relentless investigator, trying to expose criminal activity to the light of day. When all he'd really been doing all this time was snuffing out the competition.

After I found out the truth, I exposed Foswell (as Spider-Man, of course—it would be too dangerous for Peter Parker to get mixed up with crime bosses). I thought the police would take him in, but it didn't work out that way. He slipped away; disappeared. For all I know, he's still out there, ruling the underworld of New York from the shadows.

At least Jameson fired him from the Bugle after the truth came out. Not that that's worth much in the grand scheme of things.

• • •

"It's been bugging me all day," said Mary Jane to Gwen, "but I finally just remembered where I heard your name before." MJ, Gwen, Harry, and Peter all sat around a table at the food court in Midtown Mall. On all sides, throngs of students walked by, laughed, chatted, shouted. One kid on a skateboard sailed through the crowd, waving people out of his way while a pair of mall cops huffed and heaved and tried to keep up long enough to chase the little punk down.

Gwen paused momentarily from cheering on the skateboarder to answer MJ. "Oh? Does my reputation precede me at Midtown High?"

MJ shook her head. "No, it was earlier today. Mr. DePalma called your name in chemistry, but you weren't in class."

"Pfft, chemistry?" chuckled Gwen. "I could do it in my sleep. It's… kinda my thing."

"Same with Pete," said Harry, elbowing his friend good-naturedly. "He's a regular science-whiz."

"Is that so?" said Gwen.

Peter shrugged and said, "It must run in the blood. My dad was a biochemist. As a matter of fact," he added, elbowing Harry right back, "both our dads were chemists."

Harry sighed and stared down at his lap. "'Were' being the operative word there."

"Peter…" said MJ, shaking her head.

Peter smacked himself on the forehead. "Oh, jeez… Harry, I'm sorry. I went and stuck my foot in it again…"

Gwen frowned at the awkward silence that had fallen over their table. "So I take it that… both of your dads are…"

MJ took Gwen aside and whispered, "Harry only just lost his father a couple months ago."

Gwen looked up at Harry and said, "Bummer."

"Yeah," said Harry with a nod. "It is." Then he smiled and said, "But anyway, the point I was trying to make is, you and Pete probably have a lot in common. Pete almost blew up our school's chemistry lab once too."

Peter and MJ both glared at Harry, but Gwen laughed aloud. "I knew I liked you, Osborn. You're—" Then her eyes opened up like saucers, and she grinned a mile wide. "Wait a minute… Osborn… and your dad was a chemist… you're not…?"

Harry sighed again. "Guilty as charged. My dad was Norman Osborn."

"The Green Goblin," said Gwen. "That's what they say."

Harry just nodded.

Gwen narrowed her eyes at Peter. "Now that I think about it, your name sounds familiar too. You wouldn't happen to be the Peter Parker, who takes the pictures of all the super-heroes and bad guys?"

Peter shrugged. "The one and only," he said, reaching into his backpack and retrieving his camera. He set it on the table, letting the presence of that piece of equipment attest to the fact.

"Then you're both, like, neck-deep in this super-people thing that's suddenly all over New York!" said Gwen. "How cool is that! Oh, but I should've known. My dad's mentioned running into you once or twice. Said you were pretty brave, chasing after lunatics for the sake of a few pictures."

"Your… dad…?" asked Peter. Then it was his turn to have a wide-eyed revelation. "Your dad is Captain George Stacy?"

Gwen nodded. "You put that together pretty quick."

Peter coughed nervously. He'd only run to Captain Stacy once or twice as "Peter Parker" (but apparently, that had been enough to leave an impression on the good captain). He knew the man much better through his Spider-Man persona. Stacy was usually on the scene whenever any major crime-related incident went down in the city. More than once, they'd pooled their respective talents to take on organized crime in New York. Stacy was one of the few high-ranking cops who had always trusted Spidey and treated him as a hero, not a menace; and for that, Pete was exceedingly grateful. "Yeah, we've met," he said at last. "He seemed like a pretty cool guy to me." Honestly, as far as Peter was concerned, that was quite the understatement.

With a shrug, Gwen said, "Must only seem that way if you don't have to live with him."

Meanwhile, Mary Jane had been scanning the crowds, trying to spot Liz. It was then that they saw each other. Liz Allan came onto the food court, accompanied by two other Midtown cheerleaders, Sally Avril and Glory Grant, as well as Flash Thompson and Kong McFarlane. Liz stood on her tiptoes and waved at MJ, who waved back from the table.

Pete looked over his shoulder and saw his longtime tormentors approaching. "Oh, great."

"Relax, Pete," said Harry. "This is the mall, not school. What can Flash and Kong possibly do to us here?"

"All kinds of fun things," said Flash, grabbing Pete with one arm and giving him a dire noogie with the other. "There's the classics, like noogies, wedgies…"

"Swirlies are fun too," chuckled Kong. "Say, anybody need to use the bathroom?"

Their japing was interrupted by the loud scrape of Gwen pushing her seat back and standing up from the table. Click-snap… click-snap… click-snap… all eyes fell upon the new girl, who stood there calmly, flicking a zippo lighter open and shut. "Leave him alone," said Gwen evenly, never taking her eyes off of Flash, "before I feel the urge to light someone on fire."

Every jaw around that table dropped. Sally audibly whispered, "Psycho…" Nobody else said a peep, or moved, until Flash silently grabbed Kong by the arm, and the two of them backed away and left in silence.

"That…" stammered Peter, "was the coolest thing I've seen since the aliens attacked."

"No sweat," said Gwen, sitting back down and taking a long pull from her soda.

"So Flash Thompson is vulnerable to the 'crazy eyes'," said Harry. "Who knew?"

"Yeah… as fun as all that was, it's time for us to go," said Liz. She now grabbed MJ by the arm, to pull her away from the others. "Come on, MJ, let's hit the Gap and try on tops or something."

"Just a sec," said MJ. Turning to Harry and Pete, she said, "Catch up with you later?"

"You know it," said Harry.

"In fact," said Peter, suddenly brimming with uncharacteristic confidence, "let's meet for dinner, MJ. How about pizza at Giorgio's tonight? My treat."

"Peter Parker, are you asking me out on a date?"

Harry Osborn's jaw dropped. Never in a million years did he imagine that Pete would work up the nerve. Don't tell me I've gone and missed my chance, he thought.

Peter froze. For a moment, he considered backpedaling, asking Harry and Gwen to come along too. Don't chicken out. Don't chicken out. Don't chicken out. Suddenly, a tiny voice in the back of his head whispered something wise. It was the voice of his Uncle Ben. Courage, son. Be a man. "Yes," he announced. "Yes, I am. Say… eight o'clock?"

"All right," said MJ, her face glowing with elation. "It's a date. See you tonight, Tiger."

Before another word could be uttered, Liz and Sally and Glory had pulled Mary Jane away. Peter clenched his fists, sprung away from the table, and leapt two feet into the air. "YES!"

"Whoa there, 'Tiger'," said Gwen. "I take it this is something you've been wanting to do for a while?"

"Only since grade school," said Peter, steadying himself and sitting back down.

"Way to go, bro," said Harry with half-mustered enthusiasm. "It sure took you long enough."

Before Pete could reply to that, a rumbling vibration rocked the whole mall, causing shoppers and loitering youth all around to gasp in shock and confusion. No spider-sense, thought Pete. Whatever's going on must be some distance away. Snatching up his camera, he said, "Whatever that is, I'd better go check it out. Jameson—"

"We know, we know," said Harry, waving Peter off. "Ol' fuzz-face is going to want pictures. Go on, buddy: you're officially excused."

"Thanks, Harry. And Gwen, seriously, thanks. You know, for handling Flash—"

"Like I said, no sweat. And, hey, if you run into my dad again, tell him I said 'hi', and that I've only had to threaten two people on my first day at the new school."

Peter grinned at that. As he turned and ran off, Harry shouted after him, "Just make sure you don't forget about MJ! If you stand her up tonight, I'll be waiting in the wings to take her out myself!"

Whether Harry was serious or not didn't really matter; Peter was already too far away to hear.

• • •

Web-slinging beats a taxi every time, thought Peter, now costumed as New York's friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Plus, web-fluid is cheaper than cab-fare. Not by much, but I'll bet it adds up over time. Hopefully enough to take MJ out for pizza. Swinging high on a web-line, Peter let go and sailed freely into the air in a tall, graceful arc before landing atop a skyscraper. He was poised across the street from where a billowing column of smoke rose into the sky… right above Lower Manhattan's First Bank of New York. A broad-daylight bank robbery? Jeez, I wonder what kind of numbskulls would be pulling a stunt like this.

Peering over the side of the building, Spidey saw that a couple dozen police cars had already formed a picket around the bank. Then a pair of familiar-looking shock-waves blasted into one of the cars, turning it over and sending officers running. Well, that answers my question. The Shocker. What a… er, shocker. After taking a moment to web his camera to the side of the building and angle it down at the street, he dove down and fired another web-line to slow his descent. Thank you, automatic camera with high-res telephoto lens!

Spidey hit the ground next to the trenchcoated police captain in charge. "Captain Stacy."

"Spider-Man. Glad you could make it: we're a little out of our depth here." George Stacy was middle-aged, with white-blonde hair and the same stone-cold, blue-eyed gaze as Gwen. Peter could definitely see the resemblance now.

"Out of your depth… with Shocker?" asked Spidey incredulously.

"Schultz brought backup," said Stacy. "He's got O'Hirn with him."

"The Rhino?" groaned Spidey. "What are they even doing out of jail?"

"Lincoln's lawyers got 'em off on some kind of technicality," muttered Stacy. "But even if we can't pin this heist on Tombstone himself, at least it violates Schultz and O'Hirn's parole. Assuming we can bring them both in again."

"I'm on it, chief," said Spidey. Jumping over the captain's car, he sprang into action.

• • •

"You pigs don't seem to remember who you're dealing with!" shouted Shocker, his voice characteristically deep and raspy, as he blasted another squad-car and sent more policemen ducking for cover. "I'm not some two-bit thug; I'm the Shocker!"

"Oh, Hermy, Hermy, Hermy… why does your mommy keep letting you play with those dangerous toys? You'll put someone's eye out."

"Heh. I was wondering when you'd show up, bug-boy. Let's start with putting your lights out!" And so began an oft-repeated dance of the Shocker firing his blasters wildly while Spidey deftly dodged this way and that, untouchable, getting ever-closer to the increasingly desperate crook in the silly black-and-yellow mask…

Spider-sense… Rhino! Acting purely on instinct, Peter jumped straight into the air. He had gotten to within three feet of Shocker before the Rhino had come charging out of nowhere, rushing to impale Spidey on the huge steel horn atop his mechanized helmet. "Aw, shucks," muttered Rhino, skidding to a halt as Spidey sprang out of the way. "I almost had him."

"You almost had me, you dolt!" griped Shocker. "Don't let it come that close again! You know how the Spider likes to fool with us."

"Yeah… yeah, sure," said Rhino, turning around and stamping a thick, armored foot on the pavement. "I'll be real careful wit' youse both."

"I should hate myself for the cliché I'm about to use," said Spider-Man, "but… toro, toro!" He taunted loudly and stood ready, muscles taut, waiting to dodge again. Surely the Rhino would take the bait.

"Yeah, real funny," said Rhino, putting an arm to the ground like a linebacker ready to charge. "You need new material, kid." Then, with a roar, he ran straight at Spidey again.

"And you need new moves," said Spidey, leaping straight up and turning a hand-spring off Rhino's horn. The Rhino skidded and turned again, his metal-covered feet grinding groves into the cement.

Shocker didn't waste the opportunity: while Spider-Man was in the air, he fired blast after blast, but Pete threw out a web-line and snapped himself out of the way. At this point, Pete figured that he had two options. He could spank Shocker now and then find some way to deal with Rhino… or…

Landing on the pavement between them, he called, "Hey, Herman! Think you can actually hit me, or should I find you some broad sides of barns to practice on?"

Shocker sputtered and charged his blasters. "Rhino!" he shouted. "Get clear!" But no matter which way O'Hirn moved, Spidey put himself directly between the two villains.

"Say," said Spidey, "I wonder just how long you can keep those whatchamahoozits of yours all over-charged and ready to fire like that. Think they might overload soon?"

Shocker growled something indistinct.

Come on, thought Peter. Fire those things. Zap Rhino for me and take him out of the fight. But Shocker held his fire, knowing full well what Peter's intentions were. Well, crap. I guess we have to do this the hard way. "Now what happens if I do this?" he asked aloud, firing a mass of webbing right at Shocker's hands.

Everything came to a halt. Rhino and Spidey both stood still as the Shocker looked down at his webbed-up blasters, crackling with unspent energy. Shocker looked up at Spider-Man and said evenly, "I hate you. So much."

Peter waved bye-bye as the Shocker's blasters exploded, the force of the blast sending him flying straight backwards and into the marble wall of the bank. Then Peter turned around and faced the Rhino. "Just you and me now, Chuckles. What do you think your odds are?"

O'Hirn sighed and activated the release that opened up his battle-suit.

Seconds later, Captain Stacy and a dozen of NYPD's finest were rushing up behind Spider-Man, guns trained on the perp. Stacy shouted through a megaphone, "It's all over, O'Hirn. Come on out of the… uh, rhinoceros with your hands up."

• • •

Schultz and O'Hirn were cuffed now, with Stacy reading them their rights as they were led toward a squad car. Spider-Man sat crouched on top of the car, watching them carefully. The Shocker, now unmasked, glared up at Spider-Man but remained silent while an officer guided his head down and into the backseat of the vehicle.

"O'Hirn," said Spidey. "A word."

O'Hirn looked up, a blank stare on his face.

"I know that Foswell was behind this. Where is he?"

"Heh. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't you?" asked Spidey. "Surely you know that Frederick Foswell is the real Big Man."

O'Hirn shrugged. "Even if that were true, and I ain't sayin' it is, even I wouldn't be dumb enough to cross the Big Man."

"Then I'm only going to say this once," said Spider-Man, leaping down to the ground and standing tall. He poked O'Hirn in the chest and said, "I don't care how big the Big Man is. I'm going to bring him down. One way or another."

The Rhino just threw his head back and laughed. "Yeah, right. And I'm the Green Goblin." As he ducked into the back of the squad car, he taunted, "See you in a couple of weeks, web-head. You know, after my next parole hearing."

Spider-Man angrily clenched his fist.

"Besides," muttered O'Hirn, "it's Tombstone that gives the real orders these days anyway."

Next to Rhino in the back of the car, Shocker's eyes widened. "Button your lip, you moron!"

Rhino paled. "Me and my big mouth…"

As the car door slammed shut and the squad car pulled away, Spider-Man and Captain Stacy stared after it, open-mouthed. Spidey asked, "Was that…?"

"Probable cause," said Stacy, pulling out his cell phone and dialing the courthouse. "I'll have a warrant in two shakes. Maybe we can't pin down Foswell, but we can cripple his operations if we bring Lincoln in. Want to come along?"

"Do I ever!" said Spider-Man.

His date with Mary Jane was now two hours away, and he had already forgotten all about it.