XXIII. Opposition

The next day at Midtown High, all was not well among the junior grade's social elite. Three of the school's top football players—Flash Thompson, Hobie Brown, and Rand Robertson—and the cheerleaders, Liz Allan and Sally Avril—were front-row witnesses to a spectacular blow-up between two of their own, Kenny "King Kong" McFarlane and Gloria Grant. Those two had been a couple for more than a year now; but, given the verbal ferocity with which Glory was laying into Kong, it looked as if that run were now coming to an abrupt end.

Mere minutes ago, a pair of freshmen in the chess club had attempted to set up a board at one of the outdoor tables, thinking to spend their lunch break playing a game. Kong had rewarded this attempt by squirting ketchup and mustard all over their chess board and giving them both wedgies. Yet, strangely enough, when he turned around to receive the proper accolades from his friends, they were all silent and staring. Flash, typically the one to egg on Kong the loudest, actually looked sorry for the freshmen. Hobie and Rand had always been sort of ambivalent toward the bullying, tolerant of it but never participating themselves. Liz Allan and Glory Grant had only ever expressed a certain silent disapproval.

But now Glory was silent no longer. She got up, anger evident on her face, and proceeded to tell Kong off—and to break up with him.

Now, there was one other interesting side-effect borne of Flash's recent disinterest in bullying: instead of being exiled to the bleachers on the far side of the yard, Peter and his friends had found themselves suddenly able to sit at the picnic tables without being constantly harassed. And so he, and MJ, and Gwen, and Harry were also all present to witness the historic altercation.

Glory stormed off. Liz and Sally very quickly got up to go join her. Heated discussion would doubtless soon follow in the ladies' room.

But out in the yard, while the two freshmen scurried away to clean off their chess set, Kong threw up his hands and looked at Flash like a man betrayed. "Can you believe her? I was just having a little fun, and she, like, flips out on me!"

"I'm sorry, man," said Flash.

Kong waited. "…And?"

"And what?"

Now Kenny was actually kind of confused. "And, as my friend, it's your solemn duty to give me all kinds of crap about what just happened. Flash, are you feeling okay? You sick or something?" He reached over to feel Flash's forehead, but Flash batted his hand away.

"I'm fine, I'm just not in the mood, okay?" said Flash sourly.

Kenny clasped his hands together and said, "Aw, is it Eugene's time of the month?"

Rand leaned over to Hobie and said, "Okay, that one was actually pretty funny."

A small smile found its way onto Flash's face; clearly, on some level, he agreed. But he didn't take the bait. "I'm just… sorry about Glory. I know how you feel about her."

Kenny shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever." Clearly, he didn't want to talk about it any further.

Over at the next table, Gwen slowly rose to her feet. Peter, Harry, and MJ watched in rapt fascination as she crossed the distance between them and the football jocks. "No, not just 'whatever'," said Gwen to Kong. "You just got your lard-butt dumped because you were picking on those two kids. Like you're always doing." She poked him in the chest and said, "Think you maybe oughtta fix that?"

"I was just joking around!" said Kong. "Parker, Osborn, back me up here. You know it's all just fun, right?"

"Uh… maybe for you," said Harry. "Not for us."

Kenny's face screwed up in a mix of confusion and deep thought. Seeing that, Peter got up and stood by Gwen. "Seriously? Is this, like, a revelation for you?" He looked at all of the jocks and asked, "Are you guys so used to treating each other like crap that you don't notice when it's making other people miserable?"

"Parker has a point," said Hobie. "You guys lay it on pretty thick sometimes."

"All right, fine," said Kong, trying his best to sound indifferent. "Whatever, I'll back it off. But it's for Glory, not 'cuz Parker here thinks he's suddenly grown a backbone."

Gwen shot Kenny a crazy, wide-eyed look and pointed two fingers first at her own eyes, and then at him, in the universal "I'm watching you" gesture. Kenny actually seemed to shrink a little bit in his seat.

"Uh… anyway," said Flash, abruptly changing the subject, "the 'rents are out of town until tomorrow, which means that my house is party central tonight. Everyone's invited—I'll supply the tunes, but it's BYOB."

"Everyone?" echoed Kenny, looking mainly at Peter.

"Everyone," affirmed Flash, looking mainly at Gwen.

"Well then, we're definitely there," said Harry. "Right, MJ?"

"Sounds like just what the doctor ordered," agreed Mary Jane. "I could use a nice, loud party to take my mind off things. Peter…?"

"I… can't," said Pete. "I've got a thing tonight. It's, uh, you know… that thing."

"Uh, right… that," said MJ. She didn't know exactly what Peter was referring to, but she understood that whatever it was, it probably involved web-slinging. "Sorry I won't see you there."

"Real smooth," Gwen whispered to Peter, throwing an arm around his shoulders and punching him lightly in the ribs.

"You oughtta be careful, Pete," said Harry. "If you keep flaking out on us, people are gonna start thinking MJ is single. Someone else might just swoop in and make a move."

An awkward silence fell over MJ and Peter both. Gwen matched Harry's wisecracking tone and said, "Aw, come on. Ain't nobody dumb enough to come between the Watson-Parkers; they wouldn't know what him 'em."

"And you, Gwen?" asked Flash. "Think you can make it?"

"I might have to scratch that high tea with the Queen of England off my schedule, but, yeah, I think I can," she quipped.

• • •

That evening, while the girls headed off to the Thompsons' house around the block, Peter put on his costume and webbed his way over to Lower Manhattan. It only took him a few minutes to find the building that Black Cat had described to him, and sure enough, at eight o'clock sharp, a woman emerged onto the balcony, a tumbler of something stiff in hand. Peter was a little surprised to learn the identity of the blackmail victim: it was Anastasia Hardy.

Well, thought Peter, no sense in waiting around. He leapt down onto the balcony and said, "Mrs. Hardy? A… mutual friend sent me to help."

To her credit, Mrs. Hardy didn't scream or freak out at all. In fact, the jaded woman barely reacted to the sudden appearance of a masked vigilante on her penthouse balcony. "Spider-Man," she said. Then she put the tumbler to her lips, drained every last drop of whiskey from in it one swift gulp, and said, "I think I'm going to need another drink."

"Uh, before you do that, do you think you could explain what's going on?" asked Peter. "I know that you're being blackmailed by someone. I want to help you find out who it is."

Mrs. Hardy opened the balcony door and said, "I don't want your help. I don't even want to be seen with the likes of you. The men who are doing this—" By now, she'd gone back inside and was pouring herself another drink; Peter followed her in. "—they won't just give up. They'll just keep asking for more and more money, until I have nothing left." She downed that one and poured another round.

"Please," said Spider-Man, "I can be very discreet. Just… tell me when you're supposed to drop off the next payment. I'll follow whoever picks it up, and then maybe I can put an end to all this!"

"And what's in it for you?" asked Mrs. Hardy. "What's your stake in my problems?"

That was the moment that Mrs. Hardy's daughter, Felicia, chose to interrupt them. She appeared in Mrs. Hardy's study, coming in through the parlor door, and reacted with surprise. "Mother, I'm going to… oh! Spider-Man! What on earth are you doing here?!"

"Um… relax, Miss. I'm just… asking your mother a couple of questions." Like you don't know, thought Peter. Here, now, under these circumstances, there was no mistaking the resemblance that Felicia Hardy bore to Black Cat. In that moment, he became quite certain that they were one and the same. She doesn't need acting lessons, that's for sure. But she must have known that I'd recognize her right away… so is this Black Cat trying to tell me that she trusts me? That she's ready for me to know who she really is?

Anastasia Hardy had become flushed, although Peter couldn't tell whether it was from the alcohol or the embarrassment of her situation. "Please, leave us alone, Felicia. This is a private matter."

"Well, all right, Mother." She flashed Spidey a coy grin and said sweetly, "Spider-Man, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise, Miss Hardy."

Felicia turned and strutted away, swaying her hips suggestively. That tears it, thought Pete. Only Black Cat would walk away from me like that.

With a nervous cough, Peter turned back to the matter at hand. "Like I said before, we have a mutual friend who's aware of the situation. They asked me to help. So here I am."

"But I haven't told anyone about this. Not a soul." Mrs. Hardy put down her glass and gripped the sides of the table unsteadily. "Can you tell me anything about this 'friend' of ours?"

"Not really," said Spider-Man. "Believe me, it's for the best."

Mrs. Hardy nodded. "All right. I'm supposed to make the drop, in person, at ten o'clock tonight—at Grand Central Station."

"I'll be there," said Spider-Man. "You won't see me, but I'll be watching. I promise you, I'll find out who these guys are."

Mrs. Hardy poured herself another drink. "I hope so. Because if you don't, and they find out you're helping me, they'll just put the screws on even tighter."

There was nothing more to say after that. Peter nodded, went back out to the balcony, leapt off and swung away.

• • •

Two hours later, Peter was clinging to the ceiling within Manhattan's Grand Central Terminal, hiding in a shadowy corner while he waited and watched. On cue, Anastasia Hardy appeared, carrying a black briefcase. She was wearing dark glasses, a hat, and a trench coat to conceal her appearance, and because of that, Peter didn't actually spot her until she was already walking towards a set of rental lockers. That was the appointed place for the drop-off; and, sure enough, Mrs. Hardy opened one of the lockers, put the briefcase in it, and then left.

About fifteen minutes later, another woman, similarly disguised, emerged from the crowd and marched straight over to the locker. She opened it with a key, retrieved the briefcase, and started to make her way toward the front entrance. Peter kept to the shadows on the ceiling and followed her, praying that nobody down on the floor would spot him. All the while keeping his target in view, he swiftly and silently crept outside, where the woman climbed into the driver's seat of a black limousine. I know that car, thought Peter. It's Hammerhead's. That woman must be his chauffeur. Does that mean Hammerhead is behind this, or is he still working for somebody else these days?

The limo pulled away, and Spider-Man web-slung after it. He stayed high up to avoid being spotted while he tailed his mark. A few minutes later, the car pulled up to the curb in front of Fisk Tower, and Hammerhead himself emerged from the back seat, carrying the black briefcase. While the car pulled away, Hammerhead adjusted his necktie and then went inside.

Fisk Tower, thought Peter, clinging to the side of a building across the street. So he's still with the Kingpin, even after he spilled his guts to the Green Goblin and everybody. Does that mean that Fisk himself is behind the extortion, or…? Peter's thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. He usually kept his personal effects in his backpack or a web-bag, easily stashed away and then recovered later if he happened to get into a fight; but tonight had been thankfully quiet. The number indicated that Mary Jane was calling him, so he answered right away. "MJ?"

"Peter! Oh, thank God!" said MJ. In the background, there were lots of teenage voices, some of them screaming in terror. "Peter, it's Eddie! He's—" And then the line went dead.

"MARY JANE!" shouted Peter into the phone, but no answer came. All thoughts of blackmail, the Kingpin, and the Hardys were instantly forgotten. His mind a blur, he was now web-slinging home as fast as his arms could carry him. Hang on, Mary Jane! I won't let Venom hurt you!

• • •

Earlier that evening, the party had been in full swing at Flash Thompson's house. As expected, there was loud music, cheap beer, and the obligatory drunk kids necking in the closet once they'd had a few too many. Mary Jane and Gwen arrived together, but MJ broke away from Gwen almost immediately. She threw herself into mingling with the crowds, chatting, laughing, and especially dancing. When Harry Osborn arrived, he found himself drawn like a magnet to wherever Mary Jane was hanging out. Because of that, he, much like MJ, wound up spending most of the night wildly gyrating and flailing to Flash's selection of party music.

Gwen wasn't much in the mood for dancing, or for laughing. She just sort of slipped into "wall-flower" mode, sitting by herself in a shady corner of Flash's living room. At one point, some drunk guy she didn't know came stumbling up to her. He slurred, "Hey, gorgeous, why's don'tchoo and me go somewheres private…"

Gwen shot him her patented look and said, "Scram."

He did.

Some time later, Flash himself appeared and plopped down into the easy-char next to the one Gwen was sitting in. "Hey, pretty lady," he said.

Gwen smiled but didn't say anything. Clearly Flash had already gotten a bit of liquid courage into him.

"You having fun?" he asked. "Sitting all by yourself over here?"

"What I can say?" answered Gwen. "I was enjoying the company."

Flash leaned forward in the chair and looked at Gwen—really looked at her, like he was sizing her up. "You know, you're not as scary as you put on."

"Really? I'm gonna have to work on that."

"…You've got most people fooled," Flash continued. "You've got Kong pissin' his pants when you're around. But not me. I think you want friends… but you push people away on purpose."

"Thank you, Dr. Phil," said Gwen. "S'matter of fact, I already got friends. Very good friends." She tilted her head over at Harry and MJ, who were now dancing inside a ring of other kids who cheered them on. Harry had a red plastic cup in hand; he was trying to drink something while dancing at the same time. He stumbled a little bit, and MJ let out a "whoop" and caught him. Pretty soon, they were both tangled together on the floor, red-faced and laughing.

"Yeah," said Flash, looking at the silly pair kind of wistfully, "yeah, they are."

They were interrupted by Kong, who appeared suddenly with a huge grin plastered on his face. "Hey, Flash, man! Check it out! You're never gonna guess who just showed up!"

Flash didn't bother trying. "Who?"

Kong pointed to the front door, where a college-aged young man in jeans and a black leather jacket stood. There was no mistaking the spiky blond hair, gray eyes, and customary two days' stubble. "It's Eddie Brock," said Kong. "I thought the dude was in the nuthouse or something, but I guess he's out. Hey, do you think he brought some more beer?"

Flash meant to lean over to Gwen and explain that Eddie used to do what she did now—keep guys like him from picking on Peter. But she was already gone. As soon as she'd heard the name "Eddie Brock", her eyes had gone wide and she she'd sat up straight as a ramrod. Now she was running over to MJ to warn her. Shit, what do we do, what do we do? Sneak outta here? Stay and fight?

"Hey Osborn," said Gwen, tapping Harry on the shoulder, "mind if I cut it?" Then she took ahold of MJ's arm.

Harry, already three sheets and going on four, looked from Gwen to MJ and said, "You two, dancing together? Be my guest!" He backed out in gentlemanly fashion, sharing an eager look with many of the other guys in the ring of spectators.

But Gwen just leaned in close to MJ and whispered, "Look at the front door. Eddie's here."

MJ gasped. She turned and looked, and sure enough, there was Eddie Brock, chatting with Flash Thompson.

"Brock, man, I haven't seen you in ages!" Flash was saying. "How ya doing?"

"Fine, fine," said Eddie, not really paying Flash much attention. "Listen, is Parker here?"

"Parker? Nah, I don't think so. But, hey, get yourself a drink and feel free to…" Flash's voice trailed off when Eddie just walked away from him, mid-conversation. Brock's eyes were now fixed on MJ and Gwen, and he was walking straight towards them.

"Come on," said MJ, pulling Gwen by the arm. They slipped away from the crowd together and went for the kitchen.

Out in the living room, meanwhile, a hideous transformation came over Eddie. Right there in front of everybody, he allowed the suit to emerge from within him, covering himself from head to toe in rubbery black. A toothy maw with a long, writhing tongue rose up over and around his head like a hood before it closed down over his face to form Venom's mask. He let out a feral roar and smashed a fist into Flash's living room table, shattering it into debris.

All around, teenagers stared, open-mouthed. "Whoa…" uttered a few stunned onlookers. The music continued to pulse and pound, but nobody in the room moved a muscle. The monstrous form of Venom slowly scanned the crowd, looking for familiar faces, drool dripping from that hideous tongue.

Seconds later, a blood-red figure crashed in through the living-room window. This creature was scrawnier than Venom but equally grotesque, with little wriggling red tentacles sprouting out all over its body. The suit it wore was dark red marbled with swirling streaks of black that flowed like ink poured onto the surface of a denser liquid. Venom's partner laughed—a nutty, high-pitched chortle coming out of a jagged-toothed jack-o-lantern mouth—and held up one red-clawed hand. The claws on his fingertips lengthened by a foot each, and he swiped at the Thompsons' television, cutting it into four neat pieces. His mad giggle never ceased.

That was enough to make the point that these two creatures, whatever they were, meant business. All of the partying teens started screaming, running in random directions, pushing and bowling each other out of the way in order to make their escape. It was utter bedlam.

Flash came up behind Eddie, too angry and surprised to be afraid. "Hey, what the hell, man? You can't just come in here and—"

Brock casually swung a fist and clocked Flash on the head, which knocked him out cold and sent him flying across the room. He wouldn't be getting up any time soon.

Once the last of the teenagers had finally scrambled out of the house, screaming and fleeing for their lives, the red-suited figure allowed his mask to recede, revealing the face of Cletus Kasady. He looked at his clawed hands, reveling in these new feelings of power and freedom. "This is incredible," he said. "Everything I'd hoped for and more!" Four days in the sewers, crawling around through muck and filth, following Eddie as he came inexorably closer to finding his lost other… it had all been totally worth it. And this was just the rush that Kasady was getting from scaring off a roomful of kids! He was savoring this moment, because he knew, once the killing started, he would never want to let it stop. He would become a force of serial murder incarnate, the living embodiment of carnage. Which, incidentally, had a really nice ring to it. "I… am… Carnage!" he exclaimed. His mask appeared and covered his face again, and his voice devolved into another creepy giggle.

"We're pleased that you've found your true name," said Venom with a hint of sarcasm. "Now… follow the leader." With a mighty leap, he sprang clear across the room and burst through the kitchen door.

In the Thompsons' kitchen, Gwen and MJ had been frantically trying to figure out what to do. "Do you have your costume?" asked Gwen. "Your web-shooters?"

MJ shook her head and pulled her cell phone out of her handbag. "No! They're both at home!" she said. "I'm calling Peter!"

"Then I'd better warn Aunt May," said Gwen, pulling out her own phone.

Peter thankfully answered at once. "MJ?"

"Peter! Oh, thank God!" said MJ. "Peter, it's Eddie! He's here, and he's attacking—"

That was when Venom burst in through the kitchen door. Gwen screamed and dropped her phone, while MJ found hers suddenly snatched out of her grasp by a strand of black webbing. "Ah-ah," said Eddie, who snapped the web-line hard enough to break MJ's phone against the wall. "We don't want Peter coming for you until we're good and ready!"

"Gwen, run!" shouted MJ, putting up her fists. "I've got this!"

Gwen nodded and fled through the back door, out into the Thompsons' back yard. She would only have to vault a few fences to get to the Parker house and tell Aunt May what was going on. That should be easy enough, provided Mary Jane could keep Venom at bay for a little while.

Venom laughed a little bit and let his mask recede, revealing Eddie's face. "I don't want to hurt you, MJ," he said. "It's not your fault that Peter's the way he is—the selfish little prick, always messing things up, ruining people's lives, while he comes out of it smelling like a rose. Looking like a hero, even."

"I don't know what you're talking about," spat MJ.

"Hey, come on," said Eddie, putting up his hands. "We've known each other since we were little kids. I'd never hurt you, MJ… I just need a hostage that Peter cares about!" He suddenly fired two funnels of organic black webbing from the spinneret-glands that the suit had put on the backs of his hands. He was flabbergasted when Mary Jane leapt out of the way… and stuck to the ceiling.

"Well, well," said Eddie. "That's new."

"Yeah, I'm a whole new me," said MJ, flipping down and aiming a kick for Eddie's head. He dodged and punched, catching MJ in the midsection and sending her flying. Mary Jane crashed into the wall but righted herself immediately, barely even hurt.

Eddie let out a roar and ran at Mary Jane; she met him head-on. They each swung a fist and caught the other's hand, and now the two of them stood in the middle of Flash Thompson's kitchen, grappling each other by the hands and pushing with all of their might. Eddie's bulky muscles bulged through the black suit; MJ was likewise straining and starting to sweat, and her heels dug through the tiles on the kitchen floor. But neither one gave an inch; in terms of raw physical might, they seemed to be an even match.

"Tell me," said Eddie between gasps, "why are you taking Peter's side? If you've got powers now… he's clearly done something to screw up your life."

"Are you seriously asking me…" said MJ, likewise breathing heavily as she struggled, "why I'd take my boyfriend's side over the guy who wants to kill him?"

"Uh-huh," said Eddie. "So little Peter finally manned up. Now maybe I do wanna hurt you a little bit."

"You first," said MJ, letting go of Eddie and allowing herself to fall to the floor. She landed with her hands on the floor and kicked upward, just as Eddie lost his balance and pitched forward. Her foot connected solidly with his jaw, and Eddie howled in pain. He was staggered, but only for a moment. Then he was swinging his fists again, while MJ rolled and dodged. She threw a few simple punches and kicks of her own, driving Eddie back towards the living-room.

She didn't have her webs on her at the moment, which gave Eddie the advantage at a distance, but in a hand-to-hand situation she was a match for his strength and noticeably more agile. If she kept him close while they mêléed their way through Flash's increasingly demolished house, she just might win this thing.

Eddie suddenly reached out and grabbed MJ by both arms, lifting her up bodily. (His size was an advantage she hadn't reckoned on.) He spun around and slammed her into a case filled with Flash's sports trophies. Glass shattered all around her; MJ was certain that she'd been cut in several places. Eddie stalked closer, and his grotesque mask appeared over his face again. "We need you in one piece, for when our 'brother' gets here."

MJ was a little dazed, but she fought to regain her feet. "I won't… won't let you use me against Peter," she said. Her forearms were covered with blood from several little cuts. But she ignored it and put her fists up again.

And then, from outside, they both heard Gwen scream.

Eddie chuckled. "I guess your little blonde friend just met Carnage. I hope you two weren't close."

MJ shouted a wordless cry of anger and dove at Eddie. Her body-tackle crashed the both of them into the Thompsons' stereo set, finally silencing the party-music. Now they were once again wrestling, punching and kicking, and generally making a shambles of the house around them.