Chapter 21: A Nightmare While Still Awake

11:43 AM:

Jan Van Dyne had put on casual, but neat clothes. It was a toss-up between revealing and alluring versus contrite and sincere. Low neckline and short shorts lost because of the behavior that led to this mess.

She knocked on Hank's bedroom door. No answer. She expected that— it was close to noon. Labs A, B and C were the next choices.

She dashed down the steps and called to Hank through the first laboratory door.

"He's not here," Delfina said calmly from behind Jan. The cleaning lady was pushing a small laundry cart. The labs were her first clean laundry drop-offs.

Jan opened the door and looked in.

"Evidently, you don't believe me," Del said with a hint of anger. "I have no reason to lie to you."

Jan closed the door and turned to her. She gave the older woman a don't- bother-me look. Jan then relaxed her features and replied, "No, of course you don't."

Del thought nothing of her verbal reply. But that face that Jan had made was burned into Del's head like a cowboy would brand a steer. Delfina turned the cart around and walked briskly away. She could deliver the rest of the white lab coats later. At that point, the offended woman didn't want to answer the question that she knew was coming from that rude Van Dyne woman.

But Del's old legs weren't quick enough.

Jan asked behind the cleaning lady, "Where is he?"

Delfina Gilbert waited until she was close to a turn in the hallway that she had to take in order to deliver other laundry items. She then replied, "Out."

"Out where?"

"To meet team mates, I believe," the Polish woman said before disappearing behind the bend in the hall.

Delfina's anger surprised even her. Maybe some of Brygitka's resentment was rubbing off on her. When she simmered down, she'd apologies to Jan … only not now.

She heard Jan coming up quickly behind her and Del let out an annoyed sigh.

"Where is Hank meeting them? Why is he going there? Exactly what did he tell you?" The woman's tone reminded the 57-year-old of the Gestapo who had frequently harassed her when the Nazis occupied Poland twenty years ago. Del suppressed her indignation.

Delfina also smothered the inner fire that urged her to snap back, "Maybe he needed help meeting a nice girl who wouldn't spit in his face with her lewd behavior." The other option was to tell her about the mission. Del didn't know the details, other than the man whom they called the Mad Thinker was going to employ dangerous outside helpers to walk out of the court a free man.

The woman stopped and turned to meet Jan's eyes. Del expressed her regrets that Dr. Pym was on an assignment that was not made clear to her.

Why should she tell this rude woman more than that? Then and there, she was rooting hard for Yolanda to land her prize. As the woman of the house, Yolanda could send this dog's rear packing.

Thankfully, Jan stormed away. Humphh, Del thought. Jan was lucky that it wasn't Brygitka that she offended.

12:08 PM:

The dominoes were put into place and they were all falling down. One fall was totally out of the blue, though.

Giant-man was enraged when he heard that Quicksilver had attempted to kidnap the two girls who the Unicorn brought to him. He ordered the girls into the police van and set two policemen with ready pistols by the vehicle. He then shot up to seventy feet. It was about twice as big as he had planned. Anger had beaten down his caution. When Giant-man took a step forward, his head began to spin.

"Dehydration," his mind yelled. The same problem that he had last night wasn't solved. At breakfast he again allowed his emotions to take over; upset with Brygitka's constant push to get rid of Jan, he only drank half of his orange juice before he stormed out of the kitchen.

Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! What an idiot he was. He kept his feet apart to prevent falling over and hurting anyone. The worried Unicorn flew up to his face. Before she could speak, Giant-man just went down to 15 feet and lunged forward. Giant-man steadied himself on his hands and knees. His ally came back to the ground.

He answered her question with, "No, nothing major. Just need to stop for a minute."

The Unicorn searched the terrain for the white-haired antagonist. She only saw what she surmised to be an unwise, dark haired, female curiosity-seeker jogging towards them. Or was this far-from-intimidating woman the Scarlet Witch? Yolanda would deal with her, if she was. Right now, Henry was her chief concern.

Her second question as to how she could help him was drowned out by a quick series of horrible sounds consisting of a hair-electrifying yell, a crash and then gun fire.

The Unicorn was conflicted when Giant-man requested that she investigate the sounds. Henry appeared too vulnerable to leave alone. But her inner division was forgotten due to closer threat. Something banged against the other side of the van. The Unicorn turned around and she saw a gun slide away from the front tire of the van and skim across the badly cracked blacktop. In an instant, a policeman was speedily rolling away on the same blacktop, in the same direction.

Before the officer's momentum ceased, the heroic duo heard a cry of pain.

"I'm okay," Giant-man said in a stronger voice. "Go."

The new heroine made it to the other side of the van to see a hatless policeman bent over in pain. The creep known as Quicksilver was standing upright, in front of the officer. The mutant's face was ablaze with disgust. Yolanda hadn't seen this much repugnance in a face since she had landed on these shores.

Quicksilver grabbed the rear of the collar and the back of the officer's belt. He quickly flung the policeman to the ground, face first.

With a merciless look, the speedy mutant angrily slid the side door open. The girls screamed. Yolanda raised her right hand. At that instant, he looked her way. Was he going to use his speed to duck? … NOPE!

In a struck of luck that perhaps could not be counted upon again, the "Zzzt" from her repulsor resulted in the forceful bouncing retreat of the white-haired villain for a second time. But she wasn't that lucky. She had forgotten to increase the intensity of the repulsion from their first meeting. The fact that he reappeared with only a smudge-worn face, having dirt and tears on different parts of his shirt and pants proved that she needed an extra surge to put him out of action. He'd be back, for sure.

She ran to the entrance of the van door. "Stay here" The Unicorn told the girls. "I swear on my life, I won't let him get you." This time, she checked the illuminated digitry under her helmet's eye slits. It read above ".0021"— that was about one horse power. That was way more than what she needed to slide the door close. But it was way too little to safeguard the girls from the ultra-rapid jerk and protect Hank from whatever caused the police to use their firearms.

With the words, "Strength output increase 39.5," the Unicorn attained the strength of two bulldozers. More than enough to knock down a city block's worth of buildings and still keep her battery on extended life. She moved several paces away from the van.

"Okay, Speedy Gonzalez," she sneered. "Let's go for round three."

Captain America was prepared for the worst. Worst big, not worst small.

He was posted inside of the isolated section of the Continental Army Plaza by the Williamsburg Bridge. Cap didn't like the Idea of searching and dismantling bombs so close to the large statue of George Washington on a horse. Respecting his wishes, the police moved their inspection unit closer to the East River. Effectively, it would be a shorter distance for the employment of a small carrier-rocket made by Starks Industries. If the Bomb Squad could not disarm the bomb, Cap was going to place it inside of the 10-foot long carrier-rocket, launch it by remote control and drop if in the river.

Police Officer Melvin Marotta was on the 90th Precinct's Motorcycle Division. He was commanded to relieve another officer who was posted in the park where the bomb squad and Captain America were positioned. His motorcycle was nowhere near breaking the motorbike speed record, as he wasn't thrilled to be stationed along side of any stuff shirt Superhero. For years, Officer Marotta thought that those glamour boys didn't know a thing about getting into the gutter and fighting real criminals. The more he read about their exploits and the subsequent civilian adoration, the more resentment he felt towards those costumed clowns.

As it so happened, he was slowly, begrudgingly, making his way to Captain America from the south side, the tree-lined side of the park. As it also so happened, the words accidental slip are not limited to describing a human predicament.

The cop was close enough to spot the star-spangled bozo from a distance. Trying not to sneer, Marotta reduced his already slow speed. And that was fortunate for a furry tree-climber who had lost his grip and was heading for a hard landing on the street.

Suddenly Marotta's angular police hat fell off to the side. In its place was a frightened squirrel. If that wasn't enough to scare the hardened cop, the animal's sharp claws were digging into the top of his head and right ear. Marotta's embarrassing alto squeals further scared the squirrel. The animal released his little body's tension with a chomp on that same ear.

Now if this had happened to a red, white and blue stuff shirt pseudo-hero with years of problem-solving on his side, he would have simply stopped and allowed the scared creature to hop off.

With the furry tail covering Marotta's eyes, its rear legs swiftly moving in a circular movement and scratching the left side of his neck and ear (thereby drawing blood), and his right ear being used as a teething ring. Marotta screamed louder and he almost lost his voice. In full panic-mode, his foot instinctively pressed on the accelerator.

" Get-it-off! Get-it-off! Get-it-off!" the other officers thought they heard over the roar of the motorcycle. It was hard to tell because it was so fast and so high pitched. They turned towards the direction of the speeding motorcyclist who was heading their way. The cops scrambled in different directions.

Cap bounded over the policemen's heads attempting to mount the apparent runaway cycle.

It had to be a mechanical malfunction, the Avenger thought. But as the motorcycle zoomed its way closer, Cap spotted the problem. He lunged forward at the bike as he suppressed a laugh. It swerved and he missed. The cycle continued on and hit a cement-based park bench.

The cycle went skyward, the squirrel shot forward at bullet-speed, and Marotta slid and bounced horizontally along the cement ground.

To everyone's additional horror, the motorcycle that was somersaulting 35 feet in the air was coming down on the cyclist. A flashing thought spread throughout the onlookers: Marotta was as good as dead. But one person who was present disagreed.

Determined not to be late this time, Cap performed his own sliding in to home (so-to-speak). He reached the fallen officer. In the space of three quarters of a second, Cap stood over Marotta. He raised his shield. He braced his legs and prepare for the worst. In the next half second, the full force of a descending 350 pounds met his shield.

The bike bounced off and skidded to a stop forty feet away from the mound that was the stuff shirt and Marotta.

The sound of stampeding shoes erupted around them. Cap pushed against the hard ground to raise himself and to see the condition of the officer. With face blooded and uniformed tattered, Marotta looked up to his savior.

He gasped as he saw an angel coming down to him.

He cried in a shaky voice, "Am I dead?"

It wasn't Cap's word that assured him that he wasn't. When the angel came close enough, he saw the red cape flowing freely. The wings on the descending figure were only on his metal helmet, not on his back. A great relief overcame him. It was followed by the shakes in realizing what he had gone through.

Heads with police hats encircled his peripheral vision, but Marotta only focused on the red, white and blue stuff shirt in front of him. As if from a distance, the officer finally heard Cap ask about his welfare. Marotta's lips were trembling, but finally they surrendered a squeaky, "You're my hero."

To the northwest, the Grey Gargoyle took tremendous jumps over the cars that were attempting to enter the Manhattan ramp of the Triborough Bridge. Arriving at street level, he repeated his feat. They weren't as impressive as the Hulk's almost mile-high leaps. They looked a lot like Spider-man's signature jumps. … and they were almost as fast.

He dashed towards the area where he had seen the enormous Avenger. The Gargoyle found himself in a scene where police were shooting at some tall fool. The man didn't go down, but that wasn't the Grey Gargoyle's concern. He was looking for Thor.

He didn't find the golden-haired Thunder Master, but he did spot his fallen alley. The plan was clear: Get to Giant-man while he was on all fours. Wrap his tremendously strong arm around the giant's neck, without turning him to stone. The American buffoon will then cry out for help, and then WA-LA. Thor will come to his aid… and into the Gargoyle's grasp.

The powerful grey figure leaped through the line of fire in his attempt to reach Giant-man. Police bullets didn't give him pause. The shells would have less luck penetrating his body than they had against their taller target.

Giant-man saw a woman racing towards him and the van. What in blazes was she doing? He was attempting to stand when he shouted, "Stand back, ma'am."

She extended one hand in his direction and shouted back, "No! You stand back."

In a display of awkwardness that he could not remember since he was an eight-year-old learning to ice skate, Henry Pym's legs intertwined and he fell forward. His hands prevented his face from smashing against the pavement.

He looked up at her. Hank rolled one cheek as a light turned on in his brain's memory lobe. "Oh, yeah… The Scarlet Witch."

The cop who first confronted the delivery truck driver ran in front of the advancing juggernaut. This powerful stranger had just tossed the truck at the line of gun-firing cops.

If not for the seriousness of the event, one would have laughed at the tail of webbing that followed behind him.

"Stop or I'll shot," he yelled.

Spider-man was on a lamppost looking down on the scene, from behind the strong menace.

Referring to the policeman, he asked himself, "Is this guy crazy? Didn't he just see what happened when the others emptied their pistols on the guy?"

But his criticism was cut to pieces when he saw the officer's eyes. He was scared— underwear-staining scared. But there he was, half crying, believing he was going to die and still he was staring down the threat. If there was ever a picture of courage, that was it. Peter's heart swelled with pity and admiration.

He determined that with all his being that this cop was going to return to the embrace of his wife and kids tonight.

Peter took his trusty camera from his hero-belt and set the timer. He attached his special stretchy webbings to the sides of it, released more webs so that it hung off the tree and wrapped the other end around his right pinky. He threw the camera up so that it would take a bird's eye view of Spider-man tackling the powerhouse.

His senses were tingling again, but he assumed that it was due to the situation that was before his eyes. Spider-man shot a web towards the brute's leg to trip him up. Instead, something quick and fast rocketed through the air and intercepted the web-shot.

The momentum took Spider-man by surprise and pulled him off of the lamppost. He landed on the ground, unhurt, but uncoordinated. He looked up to see a grey statue some forty yards aw- NO WAIT! It wasn't a grey statue. It was moving!

Spider-man stretched to his right to catch the falling camera without looking. He was transfixed on his unintended target.

The grey thing looked back at him and cursed in a foreign language. Heck, Peter took Spanish in High School— what in blazes did he know what the thing said.

This stony thing mightily pulled on the webbing to hurl Spider-man towards him. Wow, the man-stone was strong. But the youth had been in too many battles to allow himself to become a punching bag. Suddenly, the reoccurring gunfire from the brave policeman echoed all around Spider-man. That man-brute was doing something. Spider-man would eventually get there, but right now the youth was in the middle of his own mess.

The teenaged hero's flight towards the grey thing was in an arch. That allowed enough time for Peter to throw the camera to his left with his right hand spray a web onto the creature's eyeswith his left.

The man-stone began clearing the web from his face. Spider-man landed with his hands on the ground before the creature. Spider-man's back was towards his opponent. Using the momentum of his flight, his curled legs spun over the top and in front of him. Spider-man kicked up with all his might. That sent the stone-guy flying, but DAAAMN, it also hurt Peter's feet.

Again he retrieved the camera that was racing back to him.

The teen ignored his pain to race back to the cop and the strongman. Well, he actually tip-toed during his run.

"We gotta get out." Lorna told her young pal.

"No, the metal woman said stay here. She'll fight for us and keep us safe."

"I'm glad that you have faith in the broad, but I think she could be a drunken left-over from a masquerade party. In other words, she's going to get her a – s handed to her by Whitey."

"You're wrong. How do you explain her sending him flying away? How do you explain her flying us her? How do you explain Giant-man being her pal?"

"Good point," Lorna said while nodding. "But I think we can help metal-panties win if we're outside."

"How"

"You start making those crazy light-thingies that explode."

"Come on, he's too fast. I can't nail him."

"No, but between us and the armored girl, one of us will get in a lucky shot. I never lifted anything as heavy as a van before, but you saw what I can do with metal. I'll use this van, you throw your explosives, the metal broad does whatever she does to make him look a human basket ball and we'll get through this."

Tabatha looked away in thought. She then turned to her friend after she found another factor which Tabatha could use for a new argument against Lorna's idea. But the door had already swung opened and she had hopped out.

"Get out, Tabby. You don't want to be in there when I start playing baseball."

"Baseball?"

"Yeah, he's the ball and you're sitting inside my bat."

Clinton Barton opened his golf club bag in a secluded place, close to the action. The mask that he had hastily stuffed into his back pocket came out. He pulled it over his face. Next, he dug into his golf club bag to take out his torso piece. Finally, he brought out his arrows and quiver case. The plastic case was folded in half . Unfolded, the case would take up most of his back. There were 18 arrows in each of the two halves of the quiver. Each had a special weaponry head. It was by the feel of the markings on the feathered ends that he knew which arrow he was drawing out of the quiver.

He put on the black and rose-purple torso attire. Then he secured the quiver on his back with the shoulder straps.

Clint didn't have the pants and boots to go with his mask and torso covering. But who cared? He was still Hawkeye, the master bowman. From this day on he'd be known as Hawkeye, the Giant-Slayer. Before the week's end he'll also be Hawkeye, the Iron Man Destroyer. And maybe in a month's time, he'd have knocked off all the Avengers.

And won't the lovely Natasha Romanov just gobble him up? Oh, yeah. With her at his side, he was ready to be the number one terrorist in the world. Nations would pay a heavy ransom to keep him outside of their borders.

It was show time, now. As he hid and advanced towards his target, Clint had only one problem facing him. Should he kill Giant-man with a grenade arrow, or would an acid-caring arrow to the neck be better? The piercing arrowhead would destroy his breathing ability. And if not, no one could survive pure acid dripping into his neck, lungs, and stomach. Hmm, good choice. Hawkeye may need all his explosive arrows to escape if he was discovered.

He wasn't going to fight a female. Giant-man had his palms opened in front of him. "Miss Maximoff, we don't have to fight. I know you don't want that and neither do I."

Henry Pym figured that his body language and his words could open up the woman to a truce. Indeed, she stopped in her tracks.

"How did you know my name," she asked with wide eyes.

"From a friend."

Her eyes narrowed, "What mutual friend would you and I have? Tell me now. HOW DO YOU KNOW MY NAME?!"

Okay, that was a bust, Hank said to himself.

"Please listen. Maybe you don't consider my source as your friend, and maybe I never will meet that standard either. But I think we can help each other avoid conflict. And I know that I can help you escape Magneto and live a quieter life if that is your wish."

"You know a lot about me. I'll ask one more time."

"I'll answer, but not because of any threat. It's because, given a choice, you and I want to take the same road…. Cyclops, from the X-men, told me about you and your brother.

Her eyes widened again. "You are an ally of the X-men?"

"Though they keep me in the dark most of the time, for my part, I have to say yes. I will also say yes if we can meet at a nonviolent settlement. But if that means consenting to the kidnapping of the girls, I'll volunteer myself instead."

"You would do that for two mutants?" She asked visibly moved. "No,' she recovered; "there is no place for Homo Sapiens where we wish to take them."

"Where is that?"

"To safety."

"To safety? Is there safety under the thumb of Magneto? Is he a warm father figure for them to cuddle with? In a war against the X-men, will they be safe? Couldn't possibly be maimed or killed, could they?

" Where you'll be taking them, will it be a happier place for them? … Is it a happier place for you, Miss Maximoff?"

He hit a bullseye. The Scarlet Witch's stunned facial expression gave evidence to that. She averted Giant-man's eyes, as she stared down at his feet. Her expression was lost and near to tears. Hank was going to proceed carefully to fully win her over. And he thought he knew how. He looked intently at her attractive face.

"I've seen your face before. You were escaping camera men at the airport."—Wanda Maximoff looked up into his face —"You and your brother had stopped a hijacking, and the passengers cheered you on.

"I'll ask you to remember that time. How did you feel when they embraced you? How did it feel to be their champion?"

Suddenly Hank heard an abnormal rush of wind. Stage how it wasn't blowing their way, or pushing debris around them. Still, he couldn't forget his plan to convince the Scarlet Witch to abandon the Brotherhood.

"We can bring you to that place of world-wide admiration. The Avengers can always use your services… you and your brother."

"The… Av- Avengers"?" she stammered.

I got her, he thought. I'll reel her in slowly, now. She'll stop her brother. Then I can attend to whatever menace caused the police to shoot their guns.

"Please," he said while still on his knees. Giant-man extended his hand. Wand began to reach for it when the winds picked up and the police van behind him lifted up into the air. It shook as if straining to stay airborne. On the other side of the van was a swirling dust storm.

"Yolanda! Girls!" Hank Pym yelled.

"Pietro!" Wanda Maximoff screamed.

Giant-man saw the two girls on the ground. The younger was flat on the ground, covering her head with her hands. The oldest was extending her hands toward the floating vehicle. Her face looked stained.

Suddenly the van swiped at the Unicorn. If this was quicksilver's downing, Giant-man would have to act even if it meant losing the Scarlet Witch.

On the side of the ramp leading to the bridge was a solid cement wall structure. The Thinker's machine punched and kicked holes into the 18 inch thick wall to make toe and hand grips. The destructive machine reached the street and the operator was ecstatic. Zhi Ming Xu knew that the people's mad escape, the chain reaction causing 18car pile-ups on the ramp and on the street was because of him.

He wasn't the little kid to be bossed around or looked down on. NO! He was the invincible Xu, now. And he was feeling great.

The mechanical giant ran towards the Avenger whom he had spotted from the truck. But bouncing around inside of the cockpit was hurting his neck. Xu rectified that by using the duo hidden tires inside of each of the soles of the metal boots. He could "skate" on one foot between tight spaces or just kick cars away. The overgrown, overrated America giant was going to be the first to feel the fury of the Xu, the conqueror. Yeah, he liked the sound of that.

The young communist saw a battle raging at a distance. Okay, this was it, he told himself. The Imperialist giant was going down. And just to make sure, he picked up weapons. He randomly chose two of the many cars that were abandoned when the drivers saw him coming and they couldn't back up.

With a nauseating, puke-green '59 Rambler Cross Country Station Wagon in one hand and a floozy's overbearing lipstick-red '61 Buick Electra on the other, Xu, the conqueror charged onward.

On Second Avenue, there was excited chatter about a shoot out. The Sandman was on his way to the courthouse and he knew that he had no business there. He knew that …. until someone mentioned Spider-man.

The Sandman froze. Marko's controlled demeanor melted behind the newly found fiery rage. Spider-man was the son of a bitch who put him behind bars. Marko doesn't forget favors done for him, nor damages inflicted upon him. Barely containing cuss words, Marko ripped off the watch that was designed to recieve the Thinker's signal in the event that the evil genius needed his assisitance to escape from the courthouse. But that's for another time, he said to himself. Marko placed the time piece in the bag with the box of candy.

The man with a stripped green t-shirt and brown pants disappeared. A mass of sand replaced him. Two observant women behind him screamed in horror. Unconcerned, the sand stretched like the Fantastic Four's Reed Richards. It scaled the side of a building to put what looked like a brown paper bag on top of a roof.

A strong wind moved southward. The sand took the shape of a blanket and rode the wind like a surfer moving sideways under a big
wave.

Three siren-screaming police cars were heading in the same direction as he was. Marko could not afford interference in the event that Spider-man was by the bridge. He made himself as heavy as a block of cement and aimed for the front of the lead car.

The impact was loud. The Sandman struck the front passenger side of the hood just above the wheel well. The police car flipped up—rear first. It spun like a top in the air while flipping end-over-end. The squad car crashed on the sidewalk upside down. The front end was left pointing in the opposite direction. The roof was flattened and the front of the car lifted up as if to make another somersault, but it went back down. Then the rear of the car copied the movement of the front. Its momentum made the car slide along the sidewalk, bouncing from building to park cars and back. Some pedestrians were lucky and jumped away from the path of the dangerous moving steel. Others were not. Luckily, there were no fatalities.

Before that squad car slid to a stop, the Sandman had formed his upper body into two concrete ramps. The second police car took the ram with its two passenger-side wheels. It flipped to the right and rolled over some parked cars. Its top hit the side of the building, bounced away and it came to a stop on its side. The third car mirrored the second, but its roll ended when it crashed into a storefront to the left of Marko.

The Sandman's two arms surrendered their rigidity. They stretched up to a windowsill three stories from the ground and then, like a sling shot, Marko propelled his body up into the air. A sandy blanket reappeared and he continued towards the area where people said Spider-man could be found.

In seconds, his excitement reached a fire alarm level. His eyes found the mother f - - ker, himself. Spider-man…. The soon-to-be-squashed Spider-man. Whoever he was waltzing with was going to be the least of his problem.

Back in Queens, Jan finally saw the futility of pacing on different levels of the penthouse. She had to slow down her racing mind.

Why was Hank gone? Where did he go? What is he discussing with whom? Does he still have feelings for her? If he doesn't, how will Jan win Hank back? None of that was helping the present situation. She was going crazy and she needed a calm mind for when he'd return. … If he was going to return, that is.

"Stop that," she scolded herself. He hadn't packed his bags, so she encouraged herself to stay calm.

Jan already had her talk planned out with two distinct places in her opening monologue where she could start shedding tears. It would be easy to perform since she was already deathly afraid that he was going to dump her.

At any rate, wearing out the carpets was out. She decided to wait in Hank's bedroom for his return. She first went to the paperbacks in her room to find a distraction.

She picked up and returned two paperbacks on her shelf. The stories had to do with infidelity, and she didn't want anything re-engaging her anxiety. Actually, she didn't want to do too much thinking at all—her brain was exhausted. She then blindly took three other books. One of them should be able to relax her.

Jan put on Hank's bedside radio and listened to easy music. She lay across his bed width-wise and looked at her selections.

From The Terrace— mutual martial betrayal, she remembered. NOPE!

Dial M for Murder— the synopsis refreshed her memory. "A former stellar tennis player discovers his wife's infidelity …" FORGET IT.

Niagara: A Novel Adaptation Of The Hit Movie—the back cover read, "With the aid of her lover, the beautiful Rose Loomis plans the murder of her husband."

" F - -K! ARE BOOKS ABOUT THIS S - IT THE ONLY F - - KING, G – DDAMN THINGS THAT I HAVE IN MY F - - KING LIBRARY?!"

"You've got to be kidding," Swen called out to his buddy. Fred Dukes wasn't. He was going to see what the hell was going on over at the street closest to the river. And he was using one of his famous circus maneuvers to get there. He had rolled his huge rotund body into a ball to race downhill to the scene. Fred was half a block away and gaining momentum, when Swen had shouted to him. Swen followed his massive pal as his figure became smaller to his eyes. The Blob finally took a right turn to disappear altogether.

Fred bounced off of cars and building, but he was the Blob. Nothing could hurt him. He was the breath-taking wonder of the Applebaum Circus.

Fred arrived at the scene. It was his turn to have his breath taken away. The New York Psychiatric Hospital stood to his left. His eyes moved a little to the right of the building to find a couple of police cars smashed under a green truck that was leaking fuel. No, it wasn't fuel. There was too much of it on the ground. Was that soda?

A horrific crash sound made him turn around. The people who were running to see the action out of curiosity were now running and screaming in fear. These people dispersed to the right and left of the intersection a block before the crossroad where the Blob stood.

Behind the panic-stricken crowd, he saw an undefined structure in the middle of the street. Two cop cars flew over it and flipped in the air in opposite directions. Suddenly the structure became grainy. It magically leaped up and became a blanket of sand. It flapped in the wind, but made no noise. Fred made out a coarse face at the head of it as it passed over him.

The Blob's eyes followed this strange sight to the street just before the river. His eyes scanned over the full scenery where he saw Giant-man on his knees pleading for mercy in front of a dame less than a third his size, an armored flying being followed by a flying police van, a live statue getting to his feet, Spider-man running like the bottom of his feet were on fire, the beginning of a dust tornado, and a huge mechanical man with his arms up as if he won a boxing match … Hold up. Was he using cars as his boxing gloves?

Fred put his hands to his cheeks. He could check into the psychiatric hospital close by if he thought he was going bonkers. But Frederick Jolan Dukes thought it was more likely that he was having a nightmare while still awake.

Post script:

Jan's library: NO PREACHING INTENDED. Just taking the computer input principle: "Garbage in, garbage out." Submerge oneself in stories, TV, movies about an immoral behavior and one becomes de-sensitized to that particular practice.

Sandman's Resentment: Spider-man defeated Marko in Spider-man # 4 (1963), months before this story takes place.

Applebaum Circus: Marvel never named the Blob's circus. " Applebaum" is unique to this story.

Clint (Hawkeye) Barton, scheming murderer: This is totally in character with his first appearance In Tales of Suspense # 57 (1964). In that mag, Hawkeye played possum so that Iron Man would turn his back. Hawkeye then shot a grenade arrow with the purpose of finishing off his foe. Now the wannabe killer (and established coward) is a Marvel Comics hero. Go figure.