Writer's Note:

Let me apologize. Evidently, I have done a terrible job explaining that this fan fic will not follow the 1960s Marvel Universe with 100% fidelity. I wrote in the 4th paragraph of the story intro that as "wisdom allows" I would adhere to the decades-old portrayals. I must have been too vague.

I'm sorry. For clarity, sake here goes….. I, as the author, am the arbiter of what would be taken from the Marvel Universe of the '60s era. I mistakenly assumed that this thought was cemented into the story by the introduction of original characters. For example, one will not find Henry's sister (Erica), his lab assistant (Yolanda) nor his cleaning ladies (Brigitka and Delfina) in the 1960s cannon.

Let's also take, for example, Giant-man's size-changing. When he first became a plus-size protagonist in "The Birth of Giant-man", Henry Pym said in page two of Tales to Astonish #49 that increasing his height beyond 12 feet made him weaker. Later, in #58, when he faced "The Coming of Colossus" the extra elongation of his body made him dizzy.

The first consequence was dumb—Hank can enlarge all his body parts except his muscles? Why didn't he appear like flesh draped over a skeleton when his body busted through a building in the first page of issue #49? The second was explained in an unclear manner— the quickness of the size increase may have caused the lightheadedness. But this was also silly. His brain was denied oxygen because the carrier—his blood— couldn't increase fast enough in gallons in proportion to his body size? Shouldn't he have had a heart attack then? Ask any physician if one could stand (much less, continue a battle) when very little blood reaches the heart for a few seconds.

Both the dumb and the fuzzily explained qualities of this comic book character soon lost its reason for continuity. From Tales to Astonish #66 (as well as the Avengers comics of that same mid-1960's time period) until his retirement in issue # 69, growing past 12 feet wasn't a problem.

As a matter of fact, in the opening page of isue# 66, "The Menace of Madame Macabre," Hank Pym stretched his body out to 2 ½ or 3 stories in order to fix an antennae on the roof of his penthouse. He suffered no dizziness, weakness, runny nose, acne, weak bladder, nothing.

I chose to ignore the earlier hokey reactions to the mega-growth and incorporated this part of the Pym mythos into this story.

To all the readers: Thanks for the look out. Please continue to comment if I'm doing something wrong. Any points that readers come up with to better this story is greatly appreciated.

-HC

Chapter 29: The Act Is Called "Heroism."

"You see?" Dmitri said to his muscular half-brother. Sergei loosened his grip on Dmitri's lapel. The man in the nose-less mask shrugged his shoulders and continued. "I don't see how you thought that the Avengers wouldn't save even subspecies like Spider-man."

The return of sanity washed away the wild expression on Sergei's eyes. But as the world's greatest hunter, he could smell the smallest betrayal down to the simplest duplicity … and his disguise-changing sibling had a hint of disappointment in those reassured eyes behind his white mask.

The world-renowned predator back-tracked with a warning: if the Chameleon ever tried to throw him to the floor again, Kraven would have his worthless hide dangling inside of his brother's hideout, right next to those drooping empty masks.

"Sure, sure," the Chameleon replied. With a passing reference to the film clips that he had already provided Sergei, he said, "Just relax and enjoy the news coverage. You, at very least, can have this present study added to your knowledge of Spider-man's moves."

Though the threat of bodily harm had passed, Dmitri surrendered the easy chair to the brute. He sat on the couch a respectful distance from Kraven.

Fifteen minutes ago:

One had to be careful not to offend customers who had terrible handwriting (especially if the order-takers walked away with complimentary ice cream cones). For a while, 9-year-old Sam Guthrie and his Momma, Lucinda, were getting eye-sores trying to figure out the chicken scratches of her best pie purchaser. It was extremely difficult to figure out restaurant owner George Mitchell's request for 8 of something-pie, 8 of another unidentifiable pie, and 20 of … dang, if Sam knew what.

Lucinda was so happy when her boy used the excuse that he needed to write all orders in his black composition note book— school was out and he didn't want to waste the last 18 pages of the book.

Monday was one of the two days in the week when Sam wrote down Mr. Mitchell's order. Holly— Sam's "niece"— looked after the book… she sat on it. Well really, the rag doll sat on her Momma Paige's lap. Paige sat on a pillow, that sat on the book, that sat on the rickety wooden wagon that young Uncle Samuel Jonas pulled.

The wagon had a bitter-sweet history behind it. It was the last project that Sam and Greg Guthrie worked on together. That was two years ago… the last time Sam remembered that he was proud to call that man his Poppa.

Any-who, after the pie orders were taken, Sam and Paige rushed them back to their mother 'cause this part of the business was cutting into their play time with pals.

Like most days, Sam was the first to finish his cone. He pretended to listen to talkative Paige. Paige's tongue was working on double duty. Aside from yapping, that little pink thing fought off the melting ice cream drips before they fell on Holly. Today, they were three blocks away from Mississippi's Philadelphia town border when Sam noticed a group of folks in front of Ray's Appliance Store. Well, yeah it was hotter than yesterday and yeah, he didn't want to be late in meeting up with his pals…. But the source of that crowd-gathering was too tempting for the 9-year-old to pass up.

"Hang on" he told his two tiny passengers. Sam raced some other adults to the front windows. Sam was determined that he was going to get a good view of whatever it was.

There were six big TVs lining the store window and 8 "portable" sets on top of them. Sam made sure that he was in front of the color set. But color or black and white, they were all tuned in to the same nationwide coverage.

Holly was sitting like a good child on her mommy's lap. Paige was on her knees at the front of the wagon. Her head moved to the right of the long pull-handle. Uncle Sam sat in on the pillow, on the back. His legs stretched over the two sides of the wagon and his feet rested on the sidewalk.

There in front of them, in all its wonderful glory was the meta blockbuster fight in New York. Actually, it wasn't all wonderful— Paige had to close her eyes when some flames stretched forward to likely barbecue the fattest person she had ever seen.

Oh Man, it was something. Everybody's eyes were bugging out as they witnessed the savagery.

The cold lines that he started feeling on his fingers told Sam that he had his own battle. He had to take over Paige's battle to keep the ice cream from running down the cone.

Fourteen minutes ago:

There were similarities in Carl Lucas' case. The temperature was rising fast in Neshoba County. Car windows were lowered. All it took to ignite a wildfire of interest was a slow moving car that had a driver very distracted by the loud description coming through the radio. Glory lights, what a fight!

Soon, almost all the village was glued to the nearest radios. Carl's sister and the children her age had more interest in playing outside. But being such a mature man (being 4 months shy of his 10th birthday) Mr. Lucas was in front of the scratched-up, cathedral-shaped, 20-year-old radio.

He was so transfixed that he abandoned his day-long monitoring of his sister. At that point, if Sam had mentioned that she played with white kids, Carl would just have to tell folks that they were actually characters from her imaginative make-believe world.

His aunt, Hattie, and his mother, Bea, joined Carl in listening to the very articulate northerner who provided a blow-for-blow description of the meta ruckus in New York.

Normally, the threesome would be bringing some wash to the cleaning station. That was where beat-up, sometimes inoperable, old washers were placed under a tent. Bea and Hattie had attended to their own clothes on Saturday. The present chore was handed to them 'cause the two women were among a select few whom the white folk trusted with their laundry needs.

Sam and the ladies perhaps should have been attending to their money-making business. With more and more white folks getting their own washers, the Lucas clan couldn't afford to be late in delivering the clothes back to the owners. But Mr. Jethro Lucas— Hattie's brother, Bea's husband, Carl's father— had gone up to New York last autumn to find work. He's been there since. And aside from the exciting narration, they wanted to know if the commentator would mention anything about normal folks getting hurt…. particularly, one very tall Negro male with scared, large hands.

It bewildered Carl why the two woman would be critical of a new comer— a metal-wearing woman. Their fault-finding voices rose over the reporter now and then. He would have loved to shush them, but a too-tender behind would be too costly a consequence.

If she can fight, leave her be, was the boy's reasoning. When it came to saving the city, and especially his daddy, EVERYBODY— not only men— should be helping.

Carl let the women fuss— he was going to move his right ear closer to the tattered material covering the radio speaker.

Giant-man saw the Unicorn coming at him and he was suddenly conscious of the soda can in his hand. If he didn't want his pupil distracted, he had better chug-a-lug the thing.

He only tightened his throat for one breather, but he finished the contents before she got to him.

"Good" Yolanda said. "Here's two more." Her eyes finally spotted the unmoving Hawkeye on the floor.

"I think it's his nap time," Hank quipped.

"Really?" the heroine replied as she handed him the new refreshments.

Saying nothing more, the Unicorn dropped under the roof's line of vision. Giant-man thought that the corner of his eye had caught a shadow zipping up the side of the adjacent, taller building's wall. When he turned his full gaze upon the wall it was gone.

Leaving nothing to chance, he disregarded the wrenching noise that Yolanda was creating, and enlarged himself. His nose cleared the additional three stories, but he found nothing.

"What's wrong," a voice came from his right.

The Unicorn had in her hand, a 6-foot long piece of rain water leader.

"Nothing," he replied, returning to his normal size. The dehydration caused his size reduction to end with a light bout with dizziness, but he wasn't going to admit it.

The Unicorn kneeled before the masked archer who was stomach down. In seconds, she bent the metal in her hand to cuff the man's hands behind his quiver. The armored heroine then bent the man's knees. She quickly stretched the rusty leader down to likewise entrap Hawkeye's feet, close to his hands.

Giant-man tried not to laugh at the sight.

The Unicorn stood up and said, "I have to get back to the north. Sit down and drink." She took a running leap and suddenly Giant-man's reply was addressing the bottom of her disappearing boots.

Hank thought, the running effect looked good, even if she didn't need it. It's evident that, even after his death, George Reeves can influence a new generation.

Bent over and holding his right rib, Ep ran to the other four gunmen. "What da f - - k's wrong wit' yous a - - holes? We had ta open fire at da same time."

One of the thugs replied, "We were goin' to, but den a ligh-in' bolt hit da ground an' scattered sh – t all ova da place. We had-a find a new place to hide."

"Dat wus no f - - kin' lightnin'."—Ep shook his head— "Can't fig-ee-ah whose side Elec'ro's on, so he's dead meat, too."

Another hoodlum asked "Hey, where's Lefty?"

"Roasted, t'anks ta yous mudder f- - kers."

They were still crouching behind cars when they saw Spider-man sitting 40-or-so yards in front of them. The hero's back was towards the mobsters, and he was sneaking a peak to his right behind a flipped-over car. The mobsters followed the hero's glance…. And it ended at the Thinker's boy. The big lug was getting to his feet by the East Side Highway fence. A whole mess of dirt sprang off of him. But that wasn't important. Ep returned his eyes to Spider-man.

"Okay, dis is where we finish da mudderf - - ker. We's bettah all do it ta-gedda an' right. Ready….?

The teenage red-and-blue figure was sitting quietly in front of the hood section of the car, and then…

If his spider-senses could be seen, they would have looked like the sky on the 4th of July. With breath-taking speed, the youth leaped from the front of the car to its under-side. A fraction of a second before his feet hit the ground, gunfire erupted.

Okay— from where he was, Mighty Mutt would spot him as he sprinted by. But Peter somehow knew that the brute considered Spider-man a secondary concern as compared to getting to Second Avenue. The brute won't be in attacking mode.

"Detour west on 125th," Peter heard Giant-man say over the communicator. "Ascend 90 kilometers and you'll see him. You can bring him faster."

Whatever that meant, it wasn't for him. He had to deal with these guys—the guys who he had wondered if they were plainclothes police. Obviously, they weren't.

To fully understand what happened next, one had to know where Peter spent his most frustrating and confused hours during his first year as Spider-man.

Many times money got tight for his household just as the mortgage was due. Four times Flash Thomas, the high school big-mouthed jock, pushed Peter in front of laughing classmates, daring him to fight. Twice, Spider-man narrowly escaped getting his head blown off of his shoulders while crushing a crime ring. The following morning, the Daily Bugle newspaper had accused Spider-man of turning on his partners because he wanted a bigger cut of the stolen items.

Another time, when he was yet to recognize his Spider-senses, Peter was riding the bicycle that his late Uncle Ben had bought him. A car was coming up fast behind him. He heard the roaring engine, but it was this new sensation that scared the bee-jesus out of him. It spooked him so badly that he accidently crushed the handle bars of the bike.

Narrowly being missed by the speeding car of a lunkhead teenager was of little consequence when he realized that he had damaged one of the remaining evidence of the close bond that he had with his Uncle.

Cursing his life as either Peter Parker or Spider-man, he ventured miles to north from his Forest Hills home. Just one train station away from the yet-to-be completed Shea Stadium was Queen's largest junk yard. The times that Aunt May thought that he was in bed, Peter was actually leaping over the junkyard fence.

After he webbed down the guard dogs feet, Peter was free to let out his frustration. Lifting large vehicle tires would be laborious for anyone, but not for a teen with the proportioned strength of a spider. The mighty youth threw car and truck tires against a very study brick and steel wall as effortlessly as an adult would throw a golf ball.

He was unaware that his constant throws were exercising his already powerful upper body muscles. He was equally ignorant that his leaps to catch the quick-returning tires were honing his acrobatic skills and strengthening his legs. He got so good at it that he could angel his wrists in a manner that would allow him to predict where the ricocheting tire would be traveling. After releasing the tire, he'd start out in the opposite direction, then he hustled after the tire to catch it before it hit the ground.

Today— a year and some weeks after— he still had the talent of foreseeing the return projectory.

At the present, Mr. Parker could have reached for the number of tires that were blown off their vehicles, but that would send him into the opening. He had no intention of leaving his shelter. Nor was he anxious to reach over the top to get to the car wheels. Missing fingers were very unattractive.

Instead, Peter kicked at the bottom potion of the shielding car that was on its side. Spontaneously pulling down the top portion, Spider-man managed to lean the car onto his shoulder. Now he had access to two wheels without taking a risk that his fingers would be shot off.

His incredibly strong fingers took off the lug nuts without the use of a tire wrench. He knew that he had little time— the gunmen would eventually surround the vehicle, if they didn't see him. The silence of the firearms testified to that.

"Fred, roll north to cover Spider-man, " Giant-man transmitted.

It's about time, Peter thought. But the teenage battler could not wait for whoever this Fred was. He loosened one tire. Spider-man didn't try loosening the second, as that might give the shooters time to spread out. Right now his spider-senses were pointing to the one spot—behind two cars. He figured that the brick building was a little further away from the hoods, in proportion to where Peter had stood months ago. This needed not an underhand toss. He had to throw it over the top of his shoulder and hard.

The force of the throw had Peter landing on the ground, on his stomach. Still behind his shelter, Peter witnessed the wheel bang loudly against the building and streaked toward the area where he had last seen the gunmen.

A series of "wonks" were fast so that a normal human might have thought that they were the continuous sound of one hit. Peter knew better and they were music to his ears.

Seconds later he heard running. He peeked over the vehicle to see one guy haul butt. Peter took two leaps and he cleared the vehicles where the gunmen had stationed themselves. He was twenty feet above ground with his webs ready to rain down on the shooter.

He didn't shoot. Four guys were down without a hint of another shooter… except the guy running. A web-shot hitting the right calf tripped the guy. The fallen thug's pistol went flying forward and Spider-man pulled mightily as the man skipped along the street back to the hero.

"It wasn't my idea," the spooked gunman repeated when he stopped some twenty feet from Spider-man. He was just following orders from an "Ep" fellow.

Spider-man didn't have too much time to spend on him. Mighty Mutt and Electro were still— SPEAKING OF THE DEVIL!

His senses rang out again. Without facing Dillon, Spider-man jumped up, narrowly escaping an air-burning bolt. Electro's attack caused chunks of asphalt to jump up. One piece hit and silenced the pleading thug.

Electro charged his good hand. He let loose again. Spider-man took a vertical leap to escape the blast that, save for the noise, never came. Small pieces of things were sprayed in the heroic youth's direction. …. ICE?!

Peter looked at his attacker. Even Dillon was just as surprised. Electro prepared another attack and suddenly a wall of ice appeared.

"We can do this all day," Peter heard the Unicorn shout from above his opponent. "Surrender and things will not get uglier."

Up in the sky, the Unicorn hovered. Her left arm reached in front of her torso to provide support to the thighs of the source of frost wall. Her right arm supported her passenger's back as her fingers circled round the right rib of the X-men's Iceman.

"Well, she gets an A for effort," Peter thought. "But she gets an F on figuring out an opponent. Facing another stunt behind the slammer, Dillon would prefer to battle date to the death."

"Wait a minute," a loud voice projected behind the villain. The Blob had arrived. "You two back off, If I came all the way here to wallop two dirt-bags, I'm not going to be happy being a spectator."

The electrically charged villain's eyes moved from behind him, to above him and then in front, where he could blurrily make out Spider-man on the other side of the ice wall.

Well, the injured Electro was outnumbered, that was sure, but Peter had his concerns about the next few seconds. Though everyone had temporarily forgotten Mighty Mutt, Spider-man saw him coming. The sprinting strong man's route towards the main street would lead him to this very spot.

In addition, there was the possibility that the not-too-bright, one-armed Max Dillon would think he could take on everybody. And Peter's third fear was would this three-member alliance even hold? Iceman and the Blob were always enemies. Was the youngest member of the X-men the second guy that the Blob indicated that he wanted to attack?

A second after he asked himself that, Mighty Mutt picked up an intact car, and ran with it over his head.

"Well, here we go," Peter grimaced. "Look out," he and the Unicorn spontaneously yelled.

The Blob turned to see the front of the car – the heavier portion— comedown on him. His reflexes allowed him to put his hands up.

The mammoth mutant grabbed the vehicle upon impact. He whirled it around his massive body and let it go. The car sailed towards the bridge's midsection.

The car's air travel seemed like an eternity. Every eye, even Electro's, was on the bridge-aimed rocketing car.

Finally, Frederick was relieved to see the car miss to the right of the expanse's middle. His relief turned into frustration after the vehicle finally surrendered to gravity. When the descending vehicle was parallel to the bridge's roadway' it hit the edge of the expanse. The car went into a front-over-rear spin. Then a figure leaped from the car and made it onto the bridge's road. Despite the distance, Fred couldn't mistake the muscular body of his original opponent for anyone else. The silent powerhouse had landed close to the furthest supporting tower.

DAMN IT! Frederick had an inkling that his powerful foe was behind the car attack. But Fred should have checked if the car was thrown or swung. If swung, then the creep would have been holding on to it…. He was and this is the result. Now Fred would have to wait that much longer to get his revenge.

Peter saw the same leap onto the bridge. Had the police evacuated the bridge? If not, the emotionless scum was going to cause a lot of fatalities on that roadway.

The youth saw the distracted Blob was looking away towards the bridge. Unconsciously he began walking away. Then he sprinted to towards the Manhattan ramp of the bridge.

It would have been of no use to call after him, Peter thought. But Spider-man knew that this was Electro's opportunity. The bolt-lancer turned to the young hero and threw two quick charges. The first broke a very sizable whole in the ice wall. The second sprang towards the hero. Spider-man took vertical leaps covered incredible yardages. Peter heard Giant-man barking orders, but self-preservation maneuvers were his main concern. Spider-man's third zigzag leap landed him between some cars and the same building that he used to bounce the wheel.

The bolts stopped. Spider-man peeked up from behind the trunk. From somewhere, Iceman kept throwing frigid barriers just inches from in front of Electro's face. Though the electricity field shattered them, the explosions of tiny glassy ice was hindering Electro's vision.

Suddenly, the ground under Dillon rose up with a quick with a loud rumble. Peter didn't know where the Unicorn had dumped Iceman, but the alone heroine was using her repulsor rays to upheave the ground and keep the electric menace off balanced.

But Dillon wasn't having any of those toss-arounds. He anchored himself with an electro-magnetic charge against a light post and raise himself above the violent ground.

"Just as you said he would," Peter heard the Unicorn say.

Giant-man said, "You're becoming the master of annoyance, dear, so let's get him riled up enough to shoot at you."

A half annoyed, half amused Unicorn responded. "When we get home, you will answer to the first part of that comment, mister."

Had Peter a notebook with him, he'd probably recorded a ton of verbal attacks that he could use on his villains. The barrage started with Electro's food choice in bodily refuse; then to his lack of manhood; carrying over to his maternal linage.

After seconds of retaliatory screaming and cursing, the enraged Max Dillon forgot his primary target and took the bait. He let loose a large, sizzling launch that stuck the metal-clad heroine.

This was the second time that Peter and Max shared in their astonishment. The villain's arms froze in its stretched position towards the Unicorn. The attack that was supposed to be one shot became a sustained currency.

His injured arm snapped up to take the same position. Electro's torso began to bend towards her. Despite being anchored to a nearby light post, he was slowly being drawn towards her. He cried, asking what was happening to him.

Giant-man provided the answer to Peter through the head piece.

"The Unicorn is the brightest, most prepared individual that I have ever met. She built into her armor, the capacity to absorb electricity. Months ago she had read newspaper accounts of a storm bringing down live electric wires down by two different elementary schools. The Unicorn was determined that her resources included a provision for rescuing people in those circumstances.

"Here is where you come in. My wasps had surrounded Electro earlier, and a few are at safe proximity to his body even now. His upper body is charged. His electrical field is weak from his waist down to mid-calves.

You know that Electro is a human battery. Like all batteries, he has a negative and positive pole. If he has a positive charge around his shoulders and head—"

"His feet must surely be the negative pole," Peter interrupted with a tone that hinted that he should have known this from the start.

"I don't need to tell you what happens if they meet, Spider-man. Neither do I have to tell someone who can throw around tires with accuracy, how to make that happen."

Spider-man reached for a loose tire lying a few feet to his right. With pinpoint accuracy, he aimed for the region where there was nearly no electric force field to protect Electro's body.

With just enough force to move Electro's legs upward without causing bone breakage, the wheel hit the back of the villain's thighs. His knees bent as his thighs went up to his stomach. The momentum of the quick movement also forced Electro's lower leg to make and upward snap.

Dillon's feet didn't have to touch his upper region. The stronger-than- usual charge around his upper body reacted immediately. A blinding light accompanied the deafening clap.

Peter sprung his gloved hand over his eyes. To the right of his hands, he saw Electro's body shoot backwards. The Unicorn caught up with it.

Spider-man heard the rubber tire hit the blacktop with tremendous force. With his eyes still recovering from the piercing light, his spider-senses told him to throw himself flat on the ground. A half second later he heard a menacing whistle fly over his body.

When his eyes recovers, Peter saw Electro dangling lifeless in the heroin's arm.

She brought her face close to Max's and said, "Faintly breathing. I'll take him to the ambulance at the intersection."

"Please take him to a hospital, Unicorn," Giant-man said. "There is no longer a threat here."

Yeah, he was right. All meta-menaces were put down… but not on the Triborogh Bridge. Spider-man looked towards the middle of the bridge.

It was doubtful that the Blob could make it up there before the silent killer added to his tally of death.

Peter had gotten his second breath. Still, he was not nearly so rested that he could take on another fight. Common sense would have told him to allow the Blob and the other two to take care of the powerhouse who could knock him out with a well-placed punch. But if Peter had a habit of listening to common sense he wouldn't have been wearing a costume and carrying on a solo crusade all this past year.

Spider-man could get up there a lot faster than the others. And if the cops had not evacuated the bridge, time was the most important element in holding down civilian casualties.

Spider-man reloaded his web cartridges with incredible speed. His left wrist shot an elastic web to a strong, high limb of a tree. His other wrist's web snared the top of a street lamp some yards away from the tree.

The youth said into his microphone, , "You guys are probably better at cleaning up than I am. So, I'm going to settle some unfinished business."

Spider-man's powerful legs shot him back in a leap that covered the length of a city bus, plus additional thirty feet.

Instantly, the sling shot characteristics of his web propelled Spider-man up and towards the water. Another web-shot caught the roadway under-girders and he swung himself upward towards the nearest support tower.

St. Luke's Hospital was on the other side of the Manhattan Island. If there was a closer hospital, Yolanda didn't know of it. It was a small matter for the Unicorn to rocket her unconscious passenger there. Passing over rooftops, Yolanda was more afraid of the time it would take to explain things in the Emergency Ward. If they were going to properly treat this electric-throwing scum, she had to give the nurses a careful narration as to why he was now laboring in his breathing.

The minutes that she would have to spend in St. Luke for this despicable person were minutes that would be better spent with her beloved mentor.

The events replayed in Yolanda's mind with near incredulity. It all started with an attempt to cheer Henry up after newspapers exploited the escapade of that shameless slut. Then the day's effort turned into a bomb search. It quickly exploded into a face off against a large number of cut-throat meta-combatants. This last turn of event was the biggest surprise for Henry and Yolanda. Who knew if there were more meta threats lurking around the Triborogh Bridge area?

The hospital building was in front of her. The Unicorn descended with great apprehension.

What seemed to be a decade ago, the unbelievable meta battle had begun in the north east section of Manhattan. It took a while for the police from that side of the Triborough to get word to their Queens counterpart to close down the bridge entrance. Therefore there was a huge traffic jam on the expanse before the Queens officers actually turned away traffic.

By the time Mighty Mutt leaped onto the bridge, the police were already 10 minutes into their supervision of backing up cars away from Manhattan. A good portion of those cars behind Mighty Mutt were moved.

The cars between the powerful man and his destination were instructed by officers to abandon their cars. Any hesitancy that drivers had disappeared when cops pulled out their gun and shot at an unstoppable figure.

Eventually, their pistols emptied. The uniformed men ran with the civilians, while trying to reload. Spider-man rushed forward to meet the expressionless menace.

Autos appeared to be jumping out of his path. In reality, the mighty brute was swatting them to the sides as he ran by them.

Peter took a big gulp and then pressed forward using car roofs as stepping stones. The powerhouse saw the hero advancing. The silent killer stopped to lift a pickup truck in front of him. He hurled it like a toy. Spider-man had no problem ducking between cars and allowing the truck to sail over him.

The red-and blue adventurer hopped back on a car roof. He continued his run, ignoring the series of sounds behind him that resulted from the truck's landing. Folks had a head start in their running so that the pickup would only damage other vehicles, not people. The mighty man then lifted a station wagon over his head. But when he took aim, Spider-man was nowhere to be scene.

Atop the vehicle, Peter knew where Mighty Mutt turned in his attempt to spot the hero. The front of the car moved right, left, and towards Queens. The car movements repeated.

Awww, no, Peter thought. Here came the rumble of an approaching helicopter. Hopefully Mighty Mutt would pay them no mind while he had this station wagon in his hands.

Perhaps it was at a low percentage, but sometime life gave Peter what he wanted. The brute under the car ignored the noise. Once the car faced the front again, Spider-man felt the vehicle move backwards—the big lug tossed it behind himself.

Spider-man leaped off and onto another vehicle. Spider-man's arm stretched forward. He trapped both of his foe's heels with two web lines. The mighty youth then pulled his flattened-out foe back to him. The hero leaped closer. He began showering the brute with sticky webbing.

Peter chided, "You were right to ditch the station wagon, tall dark and gruesome. That's the transportation choice for the married family man. Seeing as you're so damned ugly, your romantic prospect should tell you'll need a car… a small ca— well maybe a bike with no rear passenger seat.

"And see if you can comb your hair down towards your chin instead of the back. Who knows, maybe a half-blind and love-desperate pigeon would hop on your shoulder and keep you company during the ride."

Man, Peter couldn't even remember how many times this same web-wrapping scenario played out with Mighty Mutt. But this time, if he can cover the killer faster than strong man could tear free, he was going to hoist the enemy over the sides into the river.

No wait, better yet…. "Giant-man are you and your group able to get to the middle of the bridge?"

"Way ahead of you, son."

Spider-man was facing Manhattan and he was happy to see the huge blue and red combo of a large hand and about a twenty-foot long forearm stretched across the tops of some cars. Over the side of the bridge Spider-man spotted those salad bowl-sized blue eyes.

When the giant's shoulders cleared the roadway, Peter saw a white … no, an icy collar around his neck. And looking over one of the Avenger's humongous shoulders was the head of Iceman.

"Let him go," Giant-man said. "I know how to stop him."

"You're sure?" Spider-man asked as a sofa-sized foot appeared and inadvertently crushed a car.

"Positive."

That was fine with Peter.

In seconds the powerful brute ripped off a large portion of his webby imprisonment. Giant-Man reduced his height to 50 feet. Giant-man then snatched up Mighty Mutt with his left hand.

Now what? Peter thought. He wasn't prepared for the answer.

Giant-man's right hand took the arms that were trying to pry open his left hand. In a heartbeat, he ripped them off of the brutish man.

"Oh, Dear Lord," Peter gasped. The Avenger then ripped off the head. Peter was caught between throwing up over the horror and the realization the Giant-man had turn rouge. If Sky Pockets turned killer, how could Peter stop him? Well, he better have a plan PRONTO!

He looked at the Iceman who was behind the towering figure. He had hoped that the frost-producer could handcuff the giant in ice. But before Spider-man could speak Iceman cheered.

"Good job," the X-man said.

"Good God," Peter gasped. It was going to be two against one. Or if it was the entire ensemble of Avengers and X-men who have lost their minds … A one way ticket to South America for Aunt May, Betty and himself crossed his mind. But he had to, at least, stand his ground today.

Giant-man sensed the stark tension in the young hero. After dumping the head on the cargo area of the same dump truck that had earlier missed Spider-man, he explained.

"It isn't what it seemed, son. My wasps waited by the fence in front of the highway. You know, the one where this guy ended up after being swatted there by the Unicorn. The wasps were carrying ants. Once he hit the fence, the wasps dropped my tiny inspectors on him.

"They crawled all over him— or it— and then jumped off with their report. He wasn't human. He was an android."

At this point, Peter wasn't interested in finding out how inspects reported anything. Hoping that Giant-man was on the level, Peter still needed a push to believe. The pickup was facing the suspension cables of the bridge, balanced on top of two delivery trucks. The height was nothing to Spider-man.

The young hero leaped onto the side of the cargo area and, sure enough, he found no blood spilling out from the dead-stilled head. A second later the torso landed on the same cargo floor with an echoed thud. That damned spider-sense didn't warn him and the youth flinched backwards. He had hoped that Giant-man hadn't noticed. But that feared "I'm sorry, son," sliced through the air and daggered his self-esteem.

Giant-man pulled the androids legs and arms from his right hand only to have them stick to his left. These limbs evidently had more contact with Spider-man's sticky webs that his torso and head.

Shaking them off didn't do the trick, so the Avenger shrunk down to 15 feet. With less glove surface to latch on to, the limbs fell into the pickup truck as well.

From the Queens end, an army of swirling police lights raced towards the heroic trio.

"Oh yeah," Iceman said as he came out from behind the giant. "Thanks for coming now, guys."

Spider-man lifted his eyes from the pickup and said, "They would only have gotten in the way." Hank knew that Spider-man talked from experience since he had to dodge police bullets as well as meta attacks.

Everything seemed calm, finally. Spider-man jumped off of the pickup and looked up to the bridge tower to see if he could anchor a web there to secure a Tarzan-like escape from the scene.

""Like I said, you two are probably better at cleaning up. I'll just—"

Spider-man was interrupted by a shout. "You didn't finish him off, did you?"

Giant-man and the two young heroes turned to see the Blob running their way from the Manhattan side.

"Take it easy Mr. Dukes," Giant-man said. "The fighting is over and in less than 6 hours you're going to have the spotlight and the money offers. That's far more important than engaging in a grudge match with a fellow who never really existed."

"Good luck explaining that to him," Spider-man chuckled. He shot a line that connected and he was a second away from disappearing.

Hank had to think quickly. Peter was temporarily spared from foreclosure of his Aunt's house by the photos he had just sold to NBC-TV. Hank wanted to give the teenager a bit more of a financial cushion.

"The same goes with you two," He said, directing his attention to Iceman as well.

"Oh man," Iceman began. "That sounds like a dream come true. But Prof"—he stopped, conscious that Spider-man was within hearing distance—"eh, you-know-who says that it's best for everyone that we X-men avoid prolonged exposure to the media."

"Same here, Big Guy," Spider-man said, looking over his shoulder and ready to go. "But if I change my mind, I'll stop by the Avengers Mansion and look you up."

Spider-man pulled himself off of the pavement.

Giant-man called, "Be sure you do th—"

Suddenly Spider-man dropped down to the bridge floor like lead. Was he hurt? Before Hank could ask, the youth jumped over him and onto the pickup truck.

"My spider-sense are ticking like mad." He looked down on the unmoving android. "This is bad. REAL BAD! The thing is lifeless, so that means only one thing."

Spider-man didn't have to finish his conclusion. Hank got it. All the while, before the massive battle, everyone who was looking for the Thinker's bombs were looking for packages or devises that were hidden inside of White Rock Soda trucks. No one thought that the bombs would be inside of a man— or rather a man-looking android.

Without saying anything more Spider-man pointed to the torso.

Giant-man said, "Iceman, build an ice wall to keep the police cars from getting closer."

"What's wrong?" Hank heard Yolanda ask over his head phones. "I'm coming to you. "I'm—"

"Don't!" Giant man charged. He then enlarged himself to 60 feet.

He bent down. His index finger pushed Spider-man away. "I'll toss it into the river."

"No not you," a different female voice rang out. Suddenly his eyes felt prickly stings. He covered his face.

"I can't let anything happen to you, darling" the second female said. And just then Hank recognized the voice. He lowered his hands from his eyes when he heard the pickup truck roar to life. Before he could move, it jumped off the other trucks, dashed between the bridge cables and vanished. He ran to the side to look at the falling vehicle.

"No, no," Giant-man cried out. Instinctively, he stretched his arm down, but even if he was a hundred feet tall, his fingertips still would not have reached the back of the vehicle.

The female quickly said, "Yes! By the time you grab it and pull your arm back…" The pickup hit the water and two seconds later, a muffled, but still terrifying explosion assaulted the air. An eye-stunning giant fan of water shot up and away from the point where Giant-man last saw the truck.

"JAAAAN!"