May 27th, 2008
If there is one thing--one thing--I have learned, it is the cliche about scary, old abandoned wearhouses.
What's the cliche?
It is never just a scary, old abandoned wearhouse. Nine times out of ten, there is a crazy supervillain hiding out in one. The one time out of ten, however, you can rush in, see that there's no crazy supervillian, and hope that no one was watching you look like an idiot.
So I took that nine out of ten chance and headed for some scary, old abandoned wearhouses riding the edge of the Hudson. On my way there, I thought about the logic of the situation and, in concusion, found none. I am going out to fight an insane doctor with four metal arms, each of which want to kill me, to save a man who thinks I'm a liar and a fraud. I stopped once I landed ontop of one of the wearhouses and thought about turning around and letting Jameson get what he has been asking for for years.
But then he would have been right. And I feel like I've been trying to prove him wrong all my life. Besides, this is the kind of stuff that heroes do. They save people. Even people that don't like them and rant about them in their second-rate editorials.
After fighting people like Octavius over and over and over and freaking over again, you start to feel like you know them. You can get inside their heads better. And, well, that helps when you need to find a blockhead newspaper editor who would shoot me if it was legal. It probably is legal nowadays...anyhow, I figured that Octavius wouldn't have hurt him yet. Jameson was no good to him dead.
I honestly was tempted to knock on the front door and shout, "Special delivery!", but I wasn't getting the feeling that it would be a good idea. I scaled the building, peering through the glass windows that lined the roof. What I saw irked me.
Jameson was sitting there, tied to a chair, directly underneath me.
Something didn't feel right.
My spider-sense went nuts. Was it Jameson? Was he in danger? Where was Octavius? I felt panicked. That was when a metal arm slammed down on my shoulder, pushing me through the glass window. Shards of glass pierced my skin, and I didn't have enough time to shoot a webline. I hit the floor, hard and moaning in pain. A lot of pain.
I knew Jameson was watching me with wide-eyes, and I hated looking weak in front of him, but the fall had really left me in a bad state. How had I not seen Octavius? What the hell was wrong with me? No, really. Now that I think back at it--what in the hell was wrong with me? How was I so off my game? That's not like me, is it? No...I always dodge attacks so that I can make fun of Octavius' aim, and how it's worse than his haircut. Whatever, okay, back to blogging.
So where was I? Gets to wearhouse, Octavius pushes me through window on roof, I fall and land hard, Jameson watches, what the hell was wrong with me?...right, okay. So I manage to get up, and that was hard all on its own. Octavius then grabs me by my neck with one of his metal arms and hoists me into the arm. I'm dangling, my feet kicking and my hands trying to pry the pincers from around my neck. Jameson is watching the whole thing.
"You hate the wall crawler as much as I do, Jameson," Octopus grinned, his eyes were completely on me, which made me a little nervous, I'll admit it. "You get a front-row seat to his demise." Ah, so that's what this was all about. Octavius trying to prove some sick, twisted point. Yeah, like Jameson was about to watch my demise. Psh, yeah, that was going to happen.
But I waited. I waited for Jameson to say something. He was sitting there, tied ot a chair, his mouth gaping, but he didn't say anything. I was about to die, and he said nothing. After a moment or two, I realized I'd be dead before he decided to turn up the volume on his voicebox. I aimed web-fluid at Octavius' eyes, one of my oldest tricks in the book. I began to web his face, aiming the sticky fluid as best as I could as he started to thrash around. He finally released me, though he made a point to throw me against a wall. I knew that Octavius was out for blood--well, he always is, so that wasn't new. But I needed to get JJ out of there.
I ran over to him, my hands going to untie him from the chair. "You really need to find a better body guard," I told him. "Who lets their boss get kidnapped by a crazed scientist with for metal arms" I helped Jameson stand up, although my own body was screaming out in pain. That happens after you fall a few stories. I picked Jameson up and spun a webline straight up, yanking the two of us to the ceiling. "The Bugle is gonna have a hell of an exclusive," I said, managing him up through the broken window that I'd fallen out of. He still didn't say anything. Why wasn't he ranting? That was weird. I figured he'd be going through a list of everything I've done wrong in the world.
Octavius was after us--the dude just can't take a chill pill and say to himself, "You know what, Otto? You tried. Why not relax, take a vacation, not bother Spider-Man for a week or two, because he probably hates you too, and just calm you ass down?" But no, they never say that. They're not logical, they're crazy and derranged. I really think I have yet to meet one bad guy that I can say has all his marbles. If you think of one, lemme know. I'll give you a gold star.
"You all right, JJ?" I asked him, jumping to street level so I didn't have to carry him anymore. He was about to answer, but then a woman screamed and I saw Octavius on his way. I pushed him, telling him to run, that I'd keep Ock busy. I'm always the one who has to keep Ock busy. I sent Jameson running, while I turned around to fight off Octavius. "Let's go, Ockiepoo!"
As Octopus came at me, he shouted out and fell to the ground. Something had struck him; someone. "Daredevil!" I shouted, more than happy to see him. He smirked at me. "Told you Deadpool was an idiot. Go get Jameson out of here, Spider-Man. I'll handle Octavius."
I nodded, knowing Jameson needed to get the heck out of there. Even running, Octavius and his brigade of metal arms could catch up. I chased after him, swinging above the streets on a webline. "Let's go, JJ!" I said, going lower and grabbing him. He shouted and squirmed, but eventually stopped acting like a five year old. "Put me down!" he shouted at me. I looked below us and so did he. He didn't realize how high up we were. "I'll drop ya," I told him. He frowned, not finding it funny. Oh well. Tough crowd.
I set Jameson down in Times Square; busy enough, he'd blend right in. He looked at me, and I looked at him. "I'm expecting a thank you card," I told him before swinging off.
And did I get one? No! I should know better than to expect anything, though. I mean, it is Jameson we're dealing with here.
COMMENTS:
(subj: Octavius)
Octavius escaped into the sewers, Spider-Man. Keep alert. Maybe watch over Jameson
--Daredevil
--
(subj: RE:Octavius)
What? I'm Jameson's babysitter now?
--Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man
A/N: I broke my leg and my wrist a few days ago, and the cast makes it really hard to type--updates may be slow.
Also, I just looked at my stats. over 4600 hits for this story, holy crap. Thank you guys so much, really. Man, I missed Fanfiction.