Xavier Institute
It was morning at the mansion, as Scott came down for breakfast in his usual outfit. Everyone else was there, except Clark. He had spent most of the night on patrol. Scott picked up his cereal and sat next to Jean.
"Where's Clark?" Kitty inquired.
"I'm right here." Clark said as he walked down in casual clothing with glasses framing his face. He swiftly parted his hair down the middle, as he switched off his image-inducer completing his disguise of a clumsy, nervous country-boy.
"Late night?" Archangel asked him.
"Oh yeah." Clark replied. "Another plane experienced engine trouble over Australia, so I had to help it land. After that, there was a coal mine collapse; staying out of sight while digging escape tunnels was not easy, for your information."
"Clark, don't you do anything for fun?" Jean asked. Chuckling, she added, "Scott has the same problem, so don't feel too bad."
"Hey, I do so know how to have fun!" Scott countered.
"Scott, a late-night Danger Room session is not 'having fun'." Kitty said flatly.
"Sorry, guys, I know you're trying to help, but between repairing my ship and activities as Superman, there just isn't time for fun." Clark said.
"It was worth a try." Psylocke sighed.
Clark then walked upstairs to his room as Ororo came in. "Everyone, we may be having a new student, soon." she said, smiling.
"Who is it, Frau Munroe?" Kurt inquired.
"My nephew, Evan Daniels." Ororo answered. "Evan's mutation causes excessive bone growth; he can grow bony spikes and shed them like spears."
"Ouch! That sounds painful!" Kitty exclaimed.
"Not at all!" Ororo said. "Evan will just be visiting us; he hasn't made up his mind, just yet."
Clark then called out from the top of the stairs.
"Morning, Storm." He greeted.
"Hey, Auntie O!"
"Evan! Come in!" Ororo said, smiling. "Everyone, this is Evan."
At Ororo's call, a fairly tall 15-year-old African-American boy, of average frame walked in. He had dark eyes, and short, bleached-blond crew-cut-style hair under his skater's helmet. He wore a red-and-white vest, and dark green khaki pants, with a skateboard under his arm. "Hey." Evan greeted.
Scott stood up, smiling, and held out his hand.
"Hey." He greeted. "I'm Scott Summers. Nice to meet you."
"Likewise." Evan replied, smiling. "So...you all have powers, too?" Everyone nodded. "Even that guy standing at the top of the stairs? What's he do?"
"You wouldn't believe us if we told you." Bishop replied.
Daily Bugle, New York City...
"PARKER!"
15 year old Peter Parker entered his boss's office. Peter was fairly tall, and of an athletic build, which he hid under his clothes, with short, messy brown hair and blue eyes, clad in his usual t-shirt and blue jeans, his camera looped around his neck by its strap. He was a freelance photographer for the Daily Bugle.
He was also Spider-Man, unbeknownst to his boss, thank goodness.
Peter had been bitten by a genetically altered spider during a field trip, which had endowed him with the proportionate strength and agility of a spider, as well as their ability to stick to walls, with a limited precognition – a "spider-sense" – which warned him of danger.
Walking into his boss' office, Peter – once again – swallowed his pride, and asked, "Yes, Mr. Jameson?"
J. Jonah Jameson, the Editor-in-Chief of the Daily Bugle newspaper, glared crossly at him. Mr. Jameson – or "JJ" – was in his early fifties, tall, and lean, with short, greying brown hair, brown eyes, and a "Hitler-style" mustache, wearing a white button-up shirt and black pants. "Where are those pictures, Parker?!" He barked.
"Sorry, Mr. Jameson, but there haven't been any Spider-Man sightings, lately." Peter said truthfully; he hadn't taken any pictures of himself in action – placing his camera so he could snap photos with the time-delay flash – because there hadn't been any opportunities for him to stop crime. The only real crimes lately had been an unknown...who moved too fast to catch; every time Spider-Man reached the scene, the perp was long gone.
"'Spider-Man'? That wall-crawling menace is old news!" JJ said. "What I want are pictures of Superman! So far, no other paper has gotten so much as a snapshot of this guy! I can't get ahead with ineptness like yours, Parker! You're fired!"
"JJ?" came the voice of Robert "Robbie" Robertson as the Editor walked in. Robbie, a tall, calm, soft-spoken African-American man in his forties, with short brown hair, clad in a white button-up shirt and blue jeans, was Jameson's counterpart; cool where JJ was hot-tempered.
"Clark Kent is here to do a interview with Peter." Clark then came in.
"Who's Peter Parker?" He asked.
"That's me." Peter called out.
"Where would you like to do this interview?"
"Follow..." Peter was about to continue...when he felt a familiar buzzing at the back of his head; his spider-sense was going off. He walked to the window, scratching his head...where the buzzing intensified. Looking down, he saw a silver streak dash across the street.
The speed-demon perp he'd been tracking.
"We'll have to do that interview later." He darted off to find a place to don his Spider-Man uniform.
Had he stuck around a few seconds longer, he might have seen Clark glance where he'd looked, his eyes momentarily gleaming electric-blue...and narrowing.
"Oh, man, I'm so good I scare myself!"
Pietro "Quicksilver" Maximoff laughed to himself as he came to a stop in an abandoned back alley. Pietro was 15, fairly tall, and lean, with light skin, short, sleekly streamlined silver hair, and cerulean eyes, clad in a costume of his own design: an aqua-green bodysuit with silver chest armor and matching silver-colored boots.
Pietro was a mutant: he'd been blessed with super-speed since he was a little kid...and he'd just used that ability to rip off a convenience store and ditch that Spider-Man slowpoke for the third time this week!
"Nice work, kid."
"Why , thank yo...AHHH! ZOMBIES!" Pietro screamed as he turned to the owner of that deep voice.
The guy chuckled. "No, but you're pretty close, kid; I don't breathe." He was big, all muscle, with dead-white skin, bleached short hair, white eyes, and all pointy teeth, wearing a black t-shirt and black pants.
"Who...what are you?" Pietro stammered.
"The name's Lonnie Lincoln..." the guy said, "...but I prefer...Tombstone."
"'Tombstone'?" Pietro repeated. "Hey...don't you work for..?"
"The Kingpin? Sure do." Tombstone replied. "The Kingpin's been keeping an eye on you, Speedy. He wants to offer you a job."
"Sorry, but I'm in it for the rush." Pietro replied. "When you move as fast as me, you get bored real fast. I gotta keep myself occupied!"
"Eh, you're probably right." Tombstone said, shrugging. "After all, the Kingpin only hires the best. If you feel you're not up to it, it's your call."
Pietro arched a silver eyebrow, his face taking a sly grin. "Well...sounds like a challenge!" he said. "In that case, Tombstone, I'm in!"
"Not so fast. First, we gotta see if you've got the right stuff." Tombstone said. "First, you've gotta pull one little job, and then you're in."
"Fine." Pietro said. "Any...insect problems?"
"Oh, don't worry about that." Tombstone said, grinning a toothy grin. "The Kingpin takes care of his people. As we speak...the Spider is being exterminated."
'Aw, crap, what did I do to deserve this?' Spider-Man thought as he leapt from one web-line to the next, swinging across New York at breakneck speeds.
Peter had donned his Spider-Man costume – a red-and-blue bodysuit with black web-patterns across it, with a face-mask with no mouth and wide, reflective "eyes", a black spider crest on the suit's chest – and had tried to chase after the speeding blip on his spider-sense...but the guy was just too fast.
And now, he was being chased by a half-dozen spherical robotic drones – "Spider-Seekers," hovering mini-weapons-platforms, created by the crime boss known only as the Kingpin...specifically for the purpose of exterminating him.
'So...wonder what I did to tick off the Kingpin, this time?' Spider-Man thought, as he kicked off a building wall, changing direction, and then firing a line from his web-shooters beneath his gloves, evading the targeting beam of one of the Seekers. 'Damn, these drones aren't as dumb as the last ones; Kingpin's been tweaking the specs, again. This is gonna be close...'
Spider-Man swung high, landing perfectly on top of a building, and turned, firing web-streams at the drones...coating only three of them in webbing, blinding them...leaving the other three free to target him...
...Only for a cyclone to send the three drones crashing into each other.
"Who?"
Spider-Man turned and saw someone in a red uniform with a lightning bolt insignia.
It was a young man around 24.
"What brings the Flash to New York City?" Spider-Man asked.
There, hovering above Spider-Man, was a young man of 19, huge in terms of height and power, with black hair, and blue eyes, in a blue bodysuit, with tight red shorts, red boots, a yellow belt, a long, red cape, and a stylized red 'S' on his chest, inside a yellow diamond outlined in red.
At Superman's interference, the other Seekers turned, pausing momentarily, his presence causing them to re-evaluate the situation. Superman's eyes glowed red, as he unleashed another of his deadly eye-rays, in a sweeping motion that fried all the Seekers without so much as touching any of the buildings.
Superman then touched down next to Spider-Man. "Uh...thanks, big guy." Spider-Man said, gulping; Superman easily towered over him, and looked strong enough to snap him in half. 'Oh, dear God, please don't let him read Jameson's articles...'
Superman just smiled. "Don't mention it, Spider-Man." He replied. "What exactly were those?"
"Spider-Seekers." Spider-Man answered. "The latest development in spider-squashing technology, courtesy of our friend, the Kingpin."
"Kingpin?" Superman repeated. "Who's he?"
"Oh, just the guy who runs practically all the dirty business in New York, and then some." Spider-Man said.
"Is he behind the recent series of burglaries?" Superman inquired.
"Hm...actually, I don't think so. Kingpin's a big player; this other guy's just going after chump-change." Spider-Man thought aloud. "The problem is, he moves too fast for me to catch him."
"Has he recently done anything?" Superman asked.
"Yeah; he recently hit a convenience store. The police should be getting to the crime-scene fairly soon."
"We need to get there first." Superman said. "I think I have a hunch about this speedster. Lead the way."
"Sure thing!" Spider-Man said, as he leapt off the roof, shooting a web-line and swinging off. Up above, he saw Superman flying up in the clouds, out of sight and down below Flash zipped through the streets.
'This is really cool.' He thought.
Within minutes, Spider-Man landed silently behind the convenience store, with Superman touching down soundlessly next to him. As expected, the police had yet to arrive, since the store was currently closed.
"So...what are we looking for?" Spider-Man inquired.
Superman's eyes narrowed as he scanned the room...before stopping, walking over to the counter. "That."
Spider-Man thought he could just barely see a strand of silver hair, there. "You saw that?"
Superman unclipped part of his belt, which expanded into a palm-top computer, and pointed it at the hair; the computer instantly passed a scanning beam across the hair. "Genomic scan complete; sample DNA is X-Gene positive." came the reply.
Superman tapped a few keys on the computer, and then spoke into it. "Professor, I've just sent you a mutant DNA sample found at a crime scene. Can you identify the mutant?"
"Yes; the mutant is one Pietro Maximoff, a mutant with super-speed." came the reply. "Pietro's powers manifested at a very early age; as a result, he has a great deal of control over them."
"Can he be convinced to join?"
"Doubtful; he's Magneto's son." the "Professor" answered. "It is imperative that Pietro be apprehended, or else he may arouse suspicion of mutants everywhere."
"Understood. Superman out." Superman said, and he shut off the comm-link, putting the computer back on his belt.
"So we're dealing with a speedster?" Flash asked. "You know the location of his next target."
Superman was about to reply, when he paused, his eyes closing, as he listened. "As a matter of fact, I know where Pietro will strike next." He took out a piece of paper and a pen, and jotted down an address. "Meet me at this spot at 7:00 PM, tonight; Pietro will strike here...and my friends and I will be there to help catch him."
Spider-Man looked at the address. "You got it, big guy!"
"Good." Superman said, smiling. "I'll go inform my friends; we'll meet you tonight to discuss the plan." With that, Superman walked out the back door, and Spider-Man followed...in time to see Superman take off into the sky, flying off, a sonic boom echoing in his wake.
'Whoa...' Spider-Man thought, '...Mary-Jane is never gonna believe this...'
It was afternoon in the Danger Room, and Cyclops and the other X-Men, in uniform, were overseeing Evan's training; after Superman had gotten word to them about Pietro, Evan had volunteered to help. Apparently, Pietro had gone to Evan's school, and the two were bitter rivals.
Currently, Evan – in a black bodysuit with yellow shoulder-pads emblazoned with 'X' insignias – was skating down a metal track on his skateboard. As Evan closed on several targets, he unleashed a cluster of bone-spikes with a wave of his arm; every single spike hit a target. As he skated down the track, he hopped over a gap, flipping his board, landing perfectly on the track, and then skated onto the floor, stopping on a dime.
Cyclops stopped the timer. "Nice." He commented.
"So, when are we going after Pietro?" Evan asked.
"We just need to wait until Clark gets back." Jean explained. "He has the details."
Evan chuckled.
"So, what does he do?" He asked.
"What do I exactly?"
Promptly, Evan turned around...and his mouth dropped open in surprise. "You're...you're..." He stammered.
Superman smiled. "I know."
"But...you were...and now you're so..." Evan babbled.
"Image-inducer." Superman explained. "Nice to meet you, Evan." He held out his hand.
Slowly, Evan shook it. "L-Likewise." He stammered.
"So, Clark, what's the plan?" Shadowcat asked.
Superman smiled.
"Okay, guys." He said, "This is what we're going to do..."
Night had fallen over New York City, as Quicksilver came to a stop outside his target. Apparently, this convenience store had refused the Kingpin's generous offer of "protection." The Kingpin wanted to make a little...example out of it.
'Jeez, you'd think the guy'd give me something hard.'Quicksilver thought. 'I can do this in three seconds flat!' He started to walk towards the store...
"Doing some late-night shopping?"
Quicksilver leapt back as Spider-Man, hanging upside-down from a web-line, dropped in front of him. "You know, there's a convenience store a few blocks east of here – one with 24-hour service." Spider-Man quipped.
Quicksilver smirked.
"So! You finally caught up with me!" He sneered.
"Yep." Spider-Man said. "Brought a little back-up, too."
"So you're the guy stealing from those convenience stores." Flash stated.
"Huh?" Quicksilver said...and then he heard a whoosh of something coming to a stop behind him.
"Hi."
Turning, Quicksilver stopped dead in his tracks as he saw who it was. "Well, well, well..." he chuckled, "...I've heard about you, Super-Geek. The name's Quicksilver, and I'm the fastest thing on the planet! I'd like to stay and chat with you losers, but I've got stuff to do! Later!" With that, he darted off at Mach Two. 'Ha! I just outran Superman! Won't Dad be surprised to hear about...'
Suddenly, he saw someone running alongside him.
"You're fast, I'll give you that. But can you out speed the Fastest Man Alive."
'What the..?!' Quicksilver thought. 'NOBODY'S faster than me!'
"Heads up, Speedy!" Spider-Man said, as he swung down, booting Pietro right in the rear, sending him sprawling.
Angered, Pietro got up. 'I'm outta here!' he thought, as he took off in another direction...
Another sonic boom echoed out, and Quicksilver skidded to a stop...as he found himself face-to-face with Superman, again. Superman's arms were crossed, his eyes narrowed. "Enough games, Pietro; you were going to damage that store, just like you've been robbing all those other stores." he said.
"Yeah?! So what if I was?!" Quicksilver snapped. "What're you gonna do about it?!" With that, he began to run circles around Superman, who just stayed there, un-phased. "You're not so tough!" Quicksilver sneered. He ran at Superman, to punch him...
Superman darted out of the way, moving twice as fast as Quicksilver, causing Pietro to miss and fall flat on his face. As he got up, Quicksilver snarled, and saw Superman a few miles down the road. He raced after Superman, ready to deck him...
As Quicksilver got close, Superman darted off again, way faster than Pietro had ever moved, and was a few more miles away. Quicksilver was getting the idea that he was being toyed with.
Seeing red, Quicksilver ran after Superman, who, once again, darted off at greater speed, taking a corner, this time. Infuriated, Quicksilver ran after him.
Seeing Quicksilver run after him, Superman chuckled; he'd taken the bait. As the mutant speedster ran towards him, Superman inhaled, and blew his freezing-breath on the ground between him and Quicksilver. Pietro saw what he was doing, and frantically tried to stop...
Too late.
Comically, Quicksilver slid right past Superman, to land ingloriously in a pile of trash cans. At that point, Spider-Man and the other X-Men walked into view from their hiding spots. "You were right, Big Blue." Spider-Man quipped. "He bit on the bait like a big, dumb, bass."
Evan chuckled. "Same old Pietro."
"Daniels?!" Pietro yelled as he got back up. "What the heck are you doing here?!"
"Kicking your butt, Maximoff!" Evan replied. "And the name's Spyke!" And he punctuated the sentence by firing a spike-salvo at Quicksilver.
Pietro instantly darted aside. "Well, 'Spyke' you sure aren't too sharp!" He mocked, as he started running around the entire group.
"Cyclops, I thought you said this training would pay off!" Spyke shouted.
"Teamwork's another thing." Bishop told him. "Nightcrawler, go!"
"Jawohl!" Nightcrawler agreed, and he 'ported himself into Pietro's path, tackled him, and then 'ported again, dropping him into the path of Cyclops' optic-blast, and then 'porting away, letting the blast send Pietro flying.
"Jean! Grab him!" Cyclops instructed. At once, Jean reached out with her TK, lifting Pietro off the ground. Pietro tried to run, his legs a blur...and then he smirked, whirling himself into a tornado.
Flash also whirled himself into a tornado, canceling out the one Pietro created.
"Spider-Man, Rogue, Spyke. You're up." Psylocke said.
Spider-Man instantly fired a huge glob of webbing at Quicksilver, while Rogue copied Evan's powers, and they both fired salvoes of spikes. The webbing started to spread out...and then the spikes stuck into it at the edges, fully spreading the webbing into a net, which covered Quicksilver, trapping him.
"Shadowcat, now! Trap him!" Superman shouted. Shadowcat instantly zipped over to the trapped Quicksilver, and phased the spikes into the ground, completely trapping him.
"Let me go, ya morons!" Quicksilver yelled, trying to get loose.
"Not gonna happen." Thunderbird said.
"Not so fast now, are you?" Spyke laughed.
"Yeah?!" Quicksilver snapped. "Well, so what if I'm stuck?!" He glared at Superman. "You can't prove a thing, Super-Dork!"
Superman smiled knowingly. "Don't be too sure." he said...as he reached to the back of his belt, and took out the tape-recorder he'd hid there.
He tapped a button, playing back Quicksilver's voice: "Yeah?! So what if I was?! What're you gonna do about it?!"
Quicksilver froze in horror...and then his face twisted in rage. "You're gonna regret this, Super-Geek!" He snarled.
"Yeah, yeah. Save it." Banshee told him.
Spider-Man chuckled. "A bad-guy swearing revenge; the sign of a hero's job well-done!" he laughed. "Congrats, Big Blue; you have officially arrived!"
Just then, police sirens began to sound; the cops were coming. After leaving the tape for the police to find, the X-Men darted out of sight, as Spider-Man shot a web-line and zipped away, and as Superman took to the sky, leaving Pietro to face justice...but not before he thought he saw someone in an alley, peering out from behind a wall.
A few blocks away, atop an old warehouse, Superman and the others met up again. "That was classic!" Spyke exclaimed. "You guys rock!"
Cyclops nodded, and then turned to Superman. "That was an excellent plan, Superman." he said. "You've got the makings of a real leader; you could be leading your own team, one day!"
Superman chuckled. "Right; me, leading my own 'Hero Legion'!" he joked. "Good one!" Then, he looked concerned. "Spider-Man, before leaving Quicksilver, I thought I saw someone in an alley; it looked like he was watching us." he said.
"What'd he look like?" Spider-Man asked.
"It looked like he had...completely white skin." Superman answered.
"Dead white?" Spider-Man asked.
"Yeah."
"Bleached hair? Pointy teeth? Built like a tank?"
"Yes." Superman said. "You know him?"
"Tombstone." Spider-Man said. "Yeah, I know him; he's the Kingpin's go-to-guy, his right-hand man."
Superman's eyes narrowed. "So...this Kingpin put Pietro up to this."
"I'd bet my web-shooters on it." Spider-Man replied. "But...how did you see him? It must've been pitch-black in that alley!"
Superman just smiled, and tapped his temple, next to his eyes. "X-Ray vision." he explained.
Behind his mask, Spider-Man's eyes widened. "You...you can see through walls?" he murmured. "And..?"
"...masks?" Superman finished, smiling. "Well, I could, but I won't. I understand that you wear that mask for a reason, Spider-Man; I'll respect your privacy."
The X-Men nodded in agreement. Cyclops held out his hand. "You were a great help, Spider-Man; thanks."
Superman nodded. "You're a true hero, Spider-Man; don't let what Jameson says in the paper get you down."
Spider-Man shook Cyclops' hand. "Wow...nobody other than my girlfriend thinks that about me! Thanks!" Then, he turned to go. "Well, I've got to get going." To the X-Men, he added, "Nice meeting all of you!" To Superman, he finished, "Good luck, Big Blue!" With that, he shot a web-line, and swung off.
"I guess we'd better get back to the Institute." Cyclops said. "You coming, Superman?"
"In a minute." Superman said. He looked out to the alley, finding Tombstone's trail with his telescopic vision. "I need to take care of a few things, first..."
"You're sure that it was this...'Superman' character?"
"Absolutely sure, Mr. Fisk." Tombstone reported. "It was him, no doubt about it. You want me to track him down and size him up for one of my coffins?"
Sitting in his desk, within the high-tech office that was the hub of his empire, Wilson "The Kingpin" Fisk sat, deep in thought. Wilson was in his forties, and very large, over 500 pounds; however, he was remarkably fit – only 2% of his weight was actual fat, the rest being muscle. His head was bald, his eyes a sharp green, and he was wearing his impeccable white business suit, his ornate cane resting beside his desk. Before, he'd had enough troubles with Spider-Man.
Now, there was this "Superman" to deal with.
"Mr. Fisk?" came the secretary's voice over the intercom.
Wilson flicked the intercom on. "Yes, Tina?"
"Sir, I think you may want to check the monitor for Hallway Four. I'm getting an alert."
Wilson promptly flicked on the monitor...and his eyes widened in surprise, as he saw the young man in the blue uniform, calmly walking down the corridor...the bullets from the automated defenses bouncing harmlessly off him.
"Actually, Mr. Lincoln...I think he'd prefer to come here."
At that, the ten-inch steel door protecting the office was effortlessly pried open, and Superman calmly walked in, his eyes narrowed, as he walked towards Fisk, his pace not slowing or quickening.
Wilson calmly poured himself a glass of wine, as Tombstone glowered at Superman...who ignored him, his sky-blue stare focused on Wilson. "Superman, I presume?" Fisk asked, his eyes never leaving the glass.
Silence. Superman stopped a few feet from the desk, his powerful-looking arms folding.
Fisk took that moment to fully appraise the young upstart. He smiled, raising his glass. "I like the outfit. Boots, cape...very classic."
More silence.
Wilson frowned. "Oh. The 'silent treatment,' is it?" He said. "Very well, then, Superman – may I call you Superman?"
Still more silence, Superman's stare not breaking for a second.
"Well, if you object, please say so." Wilson said, taking a sip from his glass. "I assume you wish to discuss tonight's...incident. I am sure you realize that you have no evidence; put simply, my young friend, you have nothing on me."
No reaction.
"You, Superman, are an extraordinary individual, much like Spider-Man...though I believe that you are in quite a different category altogether." Wilson continued. "Regardless, like most extraordinary individuals, you are unaware of how things work here."
Nothing.
"The truth is, my friend...I own New York." Wilson said. "My money feeds it, my will drives it, and over 75% of its citizens work for me in one way or another."
Superman's eyes narrowed, but he still did not respond.
The silence was starting to annoy Wilson. "My operations also occur on a...global scale, to an extent." he said. Smiling, he added, "I am always on the lookout for...extraordinary individuals, like yourself." He gestured to the other chair at his desk. "Please, sit down, so we can discuss things."
Superman didn't move.
Wilson grinned. "A savvy negotiator; I can respect that." he said. He took out a stack of bills. "Half a million, up front, for your troubles, no strings, just for talking, with no promises needed."
No response.
Wilson's face twisted in fury. "SAY SOMETHING!" he roared, and he threw the bills at Superman.
Superman's eyes glowed red...as a deadly beam lanced from his eyes, incinerating the money...and searing the wall inches from Wilson's head. Wilson didn't move; that beam could have easily incinerated him. Superman had missed on purpose.
"That's your philosophy, isn't it, Fisk?" Superman said coldly. "If something gets in your way, you just throw money at it until it goes away, one way or another." His eyes narrowed. "I don't want anything to do with you, your crooked organization, or your dirty money."
Tombstone growled. "Don't you talk to the Kingpin that way, you little..!"
"Come, now, Mr. Lincoln; calm yourself." Wilson said, recomposing himself. "I insulted you; my apologies." he added. "Everyone has a price, my friend." He extended his hands in a grand gesture. "Name yours."
Superman glared at him. "I'm. Not. Interested."
"Don't be foolish, boy." Wilson said, frowning. "You don't know what you're turning down. It's not just money; there's power...and there's respect. And it can all be yours..."
"Get real, Fisk." Superman snapped. "Your 'power' doesn't interest me; I've got more in my pinky finger than you have in your whole crooked organization. And as for respect...that I've got. I've got real friends, Fisk, ones that you can't buy, either; they'd lay down their lives to help me, and I'd do the same for them in a heartbeat. That's real respect." He shook his head. "You have nothing that I want."
Fisk was visibly shaking with rage. "Then why are you here?!"
"My eyes can see through walls, Fisk, and my hearing lets me pick up cell phone conversations." Superman said, as he walked right up to the desk. "And now I know what you look like, and what you sound like." He pointed at Fisk. "I suggest you mind your P's and Q's, Fisk...because I'm watching you."
And with that, he tapped a button on the desk, opening a skylight...and he promptly flew out, moving too fast to be seen, a sonic boom echoing as he flew.
"You get back here, you little PUNK! I'm nowhere NEAR finished with you!" Wilson roared...but Superman was long gone. Fisk was boiling, now...
"Mr. Fisk?" the secretary said over the intercom. "There's a call for you...from Latveria."
Quickly, Wilson recomposed himself, and put the call through.
"Wilson Fisk."
The image on the view-screen surprised Wilson far more by the use of his real name. The man on the other end was tall, and composed of living metal, his face a metallic mask, with yellow eyes glaring out from narrowed eye-slits, the rest covered by a mouth-plate. The man wore a white-fur-trimmed green cloak, buckled on his left shoulder.
"Dr. Doom." Wilson greeted pleasantly. "What an honor! How can I help you?"
"It has come to my attention that the being known as 'Superman' was seen in New York City...your 'turf,' I believe the expression is." Doom said. "I wish to discuss him."
Wilson sighed. "Tragically, Doctor, I know little of him – no background, no known family, nothing."
"I am not concerned with his history or family, Fisk; it is his ability that intrigues me."
Wilson arched an eyebrow. "Why?"
"My reasons are my own, Fisk...but an associate of mine is also curious about this young man."
Wilson nodded. "And what, precisely, is in it for me?"
"The opportunity, Fisk, for future dealings."
Wilson frowned. "I am sorry, Doctor," he said, "but I am a businessman; I require more...concrete compensation."
"Would you prefer I took my business to one of your competitors?"
Wilson smiled. "You drive a hard bargain, Doctor; I like that in a client." he said. "So far, Superman appears capable of supersonic flight, as well as eye-beams, freezing breath, gale-force exhalations, invulnerability to weapons-fire, and strength and speed well above that of most humans."
"I see." Doom replied. "That will suffice."
"You're sure that I can't know why?" Wilson asked.
"I will say this, Fisk." Doom replied. "If driving a hard bargain is a mark of a businessman, recognizing opportunity is another." And with that, the transmission ended.
'So, Superman has even Doom concerned.' Wilson mused. He resumed his thought. 'I'll have to be wary with him around.' Until he found something on Superman, some way to hurt him, he would have to simply bide his time.
It was afternoon at the Institute, and the students had decided to make use of the heated outdoor pool, as the weather was fairly warm for November. All the students had donned swim-wear, and were either in the water or sitting alongside the pool. The Professor was sitting in his wheelchair, still in his usual clothes, while Ororo stood next to him, in her silver-colored swimsuit. Logan was just sitting in a lawn chair, calmly reading a newspaper.
Evan walked over to his aunt. "Auntie O, I've decided that I'd like to stay here." he said.
"Why, that's wonderful, Evan!" Ororo said, smiling warmly.
"You've made a wise choice, Evan." the Professor agreed. "I'm sure that we can help you achieve mastery over your powers."
"Ew! Professor!" Kitty called from the pool. "Kurt's totally getting fur in the pool!"
"I am not!"
Evan chuckled. "Plus, with friends like these, I'd never be bored!" he joked. "Hey, CK!"
By then, Clark, in his disguise, came into the back yard. "Oh, hey, guys." he greeted, switching off his inducer and losing the part in his hair. "I think I've got enough to do my paper; I was going to work on it a bit before working on the ship and going on patrol."
"Clark, come on!" Kitty exclaimed. "Even heroes deserve a break!"
"Ja, man!" Kurt agreed.
"Even I'd take a break, Clark." Scott said.
Clark hesitated. "I don't know..."
"Is the mighty Man of Steel afraid to have fun?" Evan joked.
Clark paused. "'The Man of Steel?'" he repeated. "Who came up with that?"
"It's another name that people are calling you, Clark." Kitty said. "I think it's cool!"
Evan arched an eyebrow. "So, Man of Steel, are you afraid to have fun?"
Clark blinked...and then grinned. "Be right back." With that, he darted into the Institute...and darted back out seconds later in black swim shorts. He leapt over twenty feet into the air, and curled into a ball-shape.
"CANNONBALL!"
The splash sent a huge wave of water shooting up from the pool. Logan calmly looked up from his newspaper...and then looked back down as the wave hit.
Clark's cannonball had blasted Kurt and Kitty into the branches of a nearby tree, and soaked everyone else. Clark peered out from the pool, looking at everyone's expressions.
"Whoops..."
At that, Kitty burst out laughing...followed by Kurt...then Scott...and then everyone else. Before long, Clark was laughing, too.
"Oh, yeah," Evan said, laughing, "I'm gonna like it here!"