LEE HOSPITAL
It was a positive and festive mood for the people in a small hospital ward. One involved a light-skinned, slightly chubby, grey-haired man in his mid-fifties dressed in a ceremonial white graduation gown and cap as he held a high school diploma. This was Andrew Davis, the principal of Midtown High School, and here to present a high school diploma to a young man who was not only one of the students at his school but, sadly, one of many patients in the hospital.
As for the student receiving the said diploma, it was Harry Osborn, who was deadly pale skin, hooked up to an I.V., and so skinny; he almost looked skeletal. He wore a blue cap and graduation gown over his white hospital gown and was so weak that he had an African American female nurse with him to help him walk. All due to a mysterious cellular deuteriation disease that claimed any member of the family of Harry's mother, Emily Osborn, who died of such an illness herself. Despite this, Harry refused to let this illness get to him and decided to take this night in stride. He stood proudly and smiled as he took the diploma from Andrew's hand in a makeshift graduation ceremony before he was to be sent to a medical expert in England for treatment.
Andrew admittedly would find this whole thing unorthodox in normal circumstances. Still, given the severity of Harry's illness, he agreed with Norman's lawyers and medical team that this was for the best. Besides, given that Harry had good enough grades, the principal was sure the young man would've graduated anyway. "Congratulations, Mr. Osborn," Andrew said with a proud smile, as he was happy to see Harry staying optimistic despite his condition. "May you conquer your illness the same way you conquer your grades."
"Thank you, Mr. Davis," Harry said respectfully, finding his sentiment a little corny but well-meaning and would take it to heart once headed to Europe. But for now, he just smiled at the principal as he took the diploma from him and shook his hand.
Naturally, the people present all applauded at the sight of Harry receiving his diploma. Among them was Peter, dressed in a black suit and accompanied by his aunt, May Parker, a fair-skinned, lean, red-haired woman in her mid-fifties dressed in a beige blazer with a green blouse underneath, a matching beige long skirt, and high heel shoes.
Next to the Parkers was MJ, who, instead of her punk attire, was dressed in a pink dress with a pink flower bobby-pin in her hair. Something that filled her with utter disgust, but she disguised it with a fake smile for the sake of her ailing friend graduating. Also with her were her parents, her stepfather, Officer Phillip Watson, an average-built brunette man still in uniform and keeping his cap underneath his right arm so he can clap, and her mother, Anna, a smiling red-haired woman in a blue dress.
As the clapping subsided, Peter continued looking at Harry, smiling as he began a small discussion with the principal and was glad to see his old friend happy.
Also seeing this was of May, who was just as glad to see Harry beaming. Since Peter and the young Osborn began their friendship, she saw Harry as a new family member and grew to love him just the same.
"Oh, look how happy he is!"
"Yeah, I know. It's awesome," Peter replied, but suddenly felt sadness briefly take over as he remembered the night before.
Something which caused May great concern once she saw the change in her nephew's demeanor. "What's wrong, Peter?"
"Nothing, Aunt May, it's just...I still missed out on the chance to visit him last night," the depressed Peter explained. "And I'm sure worried that he's so mad at me, it'll sour the good mood that he's in."
May took hold of Peter's hand and succeeded in getting his attention so she could provide one of many things needed for the distressed nephew; giving advice. "Oh, don't you start sulking, Peter," she said to him in a supportive but stern tone. "Harry Osborn isn't mad at you. I know this because when we were sitting down, and he walked through those doors, his eyes lit up when he saw you! All of which proved that you, his best friend, being here now is what truly matters to him!" Suddenly, May glanced over Peter's shoulder and saw that Harry, with the help of his nurse, was walking toward him. "But, if you don't believe me, why don't you ask the boy yourself?"
Peter briefly looked over his shoulder and gave his aunt a sweet smile. "I'd be an idiot not to believe you, Aunt May," Peter told his aunt, the one woman whom he always thought of as his mother since the death of his real one. He then turned to face Harry and let out a nervous sigh. "Wish me luck." With that said, Peter went on his way to greet his friend, with MJ herself joining him, having the same idea.
Once he saw two friends coming toward him, the beaming Harry stopped, handed the diploma to the nurse, then held his arms up as high as he could so he could allow Peter and MJ to hug him, then proceeded to embrace them happily with his eyes beginning to water. "Thanks for coming, you guys."
MJ allowed a genuinely happy smile to appear as she held the frail Harry close. "Wouldn't miss this for the world, Harry," she told him, now beginning to get misty-eyed.
Peter, whose eyes were also beginning to water, held Harry as carefully as possible, both in terms of his friend's condition and trying to watch his spider-strength. "I know I wouldn't. Not this time."
Harry chuckled a bit as he gently pulled away from his friends, then looked at Peter directly. "That's good to know, Pete," he said with a smirk, then turned his eyes to a certain red-head. "Almost as good as hearing that MJ didn't have to twist your arm. Literally."
MJ couldn't help but giggle at Harry's remark, for as much as she loved Peter, she felt it was a 'funny because it's true' statement. "Well, to be fair, it came close to that."
Peter chuckled nervously, but even if it did come to MJ doing to him what she did to Flash so long ago, he wouldn't have blamed her, especially after he failed to show up to the hospital last night. As such, he turned to Harry with a somewhat regretful expression. "Harry, listen, about last night-."
"Pete, it's fine. I'm just messing with you," Harry said with a small laugh, cutting Peter off. "I know you're working at the Bugle, and the fact that you're here now, that's what's most important to me."
May didn't take long to walk toward the three friends with a satisfied smile. "Thank you for your second opinion, Harry."
Harry, along with a moved Peter and MJ, turned to face May upon hearing her voice, which made the recent graduate's grin grow wider. "No, thank you, Aunt May," said Harry, who, along with Peter, he saw as a mother figure since the illness that was eating away at him took away the mother he barely had a chance to know. Moments later, Phillip and Anna Watson came up, the other two people he considered family thanks to getting close to MJ, which only escalated his happiness. "Thank all of you! You have no idea how much I appreciate you all being here!"
The next to speak up is Phillip, although he initially felt testy around Harry and Peter being around his MJ, as he would any other boy who wants to get close to her and make him a 'young grandparent'. But after a while, they grew on him, but only by little. "Well, your practically family to us now, Harry," Phillip said in a tough and somewhat sincere. "And family always sticks together."
Anna nodded in approval of her husband's words, but took a moment to walk over to MJ, grabbed her shoulders, and shook her slightly. "But it doesn't hurt to dress more approximately and adorable for the occasion!"
Naturally, this caused MJ to roll her eyes and groan. She always knew that her mother never approved of her taste in punk and thus felt that being in this dress was Anna's way of rubbing it in.
May, on the other hand, never took to kindly to Anna's constant pressure to conform MJ into being 'mommy's little angel .'Because despite her rugged nature, she always felt that MJ was a nice enough girl, one worthy enough to be friends with her nephew. However, she didn't want to cause a scene for Harry's graduation ceremony. As such, she decided to help out MJ in a different way and raised her hand to get Anna's attention. "Say, Anna," May said sweetly. "Didn't you say you picked out other dresses for MJ besides what she's wearing right now?"
Upon hearing that question, Anna's eyes lit up with glee. "Oh my god, yes!" Anna soon sped over to May with her iPhone, which she had pics of an unhappy MJ in numerous dresses in hand. Phillip, on the other hand, let out an exhausted sigh as he followed his wife as she proceeded to show May her phone pics.
With her parents preoccupied, MJ silently thanked May for getting her mother away, then turned to Harry with a narrow brow. "The things I do for you, Osborn."
"Well, to be fair, you look great," Harry responded honestly, albeit nervously, given MJ's temperament.
And it was here that Peter decided to try his hand at giving the girl support about her appearance. "Yeah, in fact, I think you can still be a rebel dressed like that. Maybe you can be 'adorably rebellious,' or an 'adorable rebel,' or-." Suddenly, Peter was cut off when he saw a furious glare from MJ, one which made Harry nervous. All of which made an uneasy Peter gulp as he gave her a sheepish grin. "I'm going to stop talking now."
FISK INDUSTRIES
In the lower levels of the Fisk Industries main building was a large gymnasium with all the most recent, state-of-the-art weight and exercise machines. But what stood out the most from all the equipment was a giant, octagon-shaped cage in the center of the room. Inside the enclosure were four men; chief among them was the company's owner and CEO, Wilson Fisk, a bald, fair-skinned obese giant of a man standing at six-foot-six and weighing over four hundred pounds. He was clad in mixed martial arts fighting gloves and white trunks. Though he primarily appeared overweight, his body was mainly muscle, most of which showed in his chest, arms, and legs. By day, he was a respected businessman and philanthropist, but at night, he ran a different kind of business. The business was crime, and he did so under the title of Kingpin.
Also in the octagon were three muscular men dressed in similar gear, and they were all former mixed martial artists who competed in numerous organizations. Unfortunately, they were kicked out for either steroid, acting horribly to people outside the octagon, and other shady reasons. Now, all three of them found themselves surrounding Wilson as part of their agreement to help him train in exchange for a large sum of money each.
One of the fighters named Teo Garcia, a Latino man with black hair and a darker skin tone, stood across from Wilson, and as he looked at him, he felt that he didn't seem like anyone special. Sure he was big, but in his career, he fought against men who were far bigger and flabbier than Wilson and defeated them easily. And it was looking at his employer's pudgy appearance that made him assume that the outcome of this 'training session' would end the same. "So, Mr. Fisk, are you sure you want to do this?" Teo asked with a cocky smirk and almost condescending tone.
Another fighter, an African American bald male name Blake Johnson, stood on Wilson's right side and decided to join in on Teo's 'warning' for the giant businessman. "Yeah, we're sure you're tough, but we met a lot of guys who had your, uh, stature. But being in a mixed martial arts fight is way different than seeing it on TV, and we had to prove it to them the hard way, and they ended up becoming laughing stocks by being on those 'watch idiot get knocked out' videos on Youtube."
Wilson found these comments insulting but kept himself reserved. Both to maintain his mental discipline as the leader of a legit and underground business and to give these men quite the surprise once it was time to start swinging fists. "I assure you, gentlemen, I'm no back ally brawler who thinks he knows how to fight," Wilson replied calmly as he got into a readied fighting stance. "Now, would you please kindly shut up and prove what your worth the sum of money I'm willing to pay you?"
The last fighter standing on Wilson's left, a fair-skinned and heavily tattooed man with buzzed black hair named Paul Browning, only gave a slight shrug. "Well, you're the boss. Just don't say we didn't warn you." With that said, Paul proceeded to charge toward Wilson, and once he got close enough, he jumped up and threw a left knee strike, aiming for his employer's temple.
At that moment, Wilson unleashed the 'surprise' that he was eager to show these three fighters. One that he always relished in showing those who dared tried to attack him. Namely that for a man his size, he showed incredible reflexes and speed. Which he used to quickly lean back and allow Paul to fly right past him and inadvertently hit Blake with the strike instead, driving his knee so deep into his fellow fighter's face that he pushed his nose deep into his skull and into his brain. This resulted in Blake falling back first onto the canvas, bloodied and lifeless.
As he landed, Paul was utterly shocked as he looked down at Blake's corpse but only viewed it as an example of Wilson's incredible speed. In truth, he never really cared about the well-fare of any fighter he stepped into the octagon with, much less one he was supposed to fight alongside against a larger opponent. As such, he was quick enough to regain his senses and attack Wilson again, this time by throwing a right-legged back-kick.
However, Wilson had this move well scouted and used his right arm to block the kick and successfully push Paul's foot outward. Along with way, he spotted Teo running towards him and quickly reacted by using his left leg to throw a hard front kick and planting his foot into Teo's chest with enough force to send him flying and hitting his back up against the cage. From then on, Wilson noticed through the corner of his right eye that Paul was going for a left hook, and after blocking the punch with his left arm, he fought back by using his free arm to throw a rising elbow strike, nailing and fracturing Paul's jaw and rendering him semi-conscious on his feet. This allowed Wilson to throw a devastating left hook of his own, nailed Paul in his left temple, and shattered his entire skull, sending him face first into the canvas, where he convulsed until finally, he stopped moving.
"How disappointing," said the unimpressed Wilson, as he hoped that this session would give him a proper workout. He then turned his attention to a now terrified Teo, with the sole intention of getting this joke of an exercise routine over with.
The cowering Teo soon realized that he underestimated his employer and was in store for the same fate as the previous two fighters. A future he clearly didn't want, and once Wilson was close enough, he desperately threw a left front kick with the target being Wilson's groin.
This cheap attack was quickly spotted by Wilson, who stopped it by catching Teo's foot with only his left hand. Then, in perhaps a move that would be considered too brutal for any gangster, Wilson tucked Teo's foot underneath his arm and performed a right hammer blow into Teo's knee, shattering the fighter's leg and causing him to scream out in pain, which echoed throughout the whole gym. Afterward, Wilson quickly grabbed Teo's head with both hands and used his remarkable strength to pick Teo up like a rag doll.
With a broken leg, a body racked with pain, and knowledge that he was no match for this giant monster holding him up with little effort, Teo could only do one thing to try and save his own life, and it required using his voice, which was muffled by Wilson's gloved hands. "Please don't break my neck."
"No," were the words that Wilson said in a heartless, if not matter-of-factly tone, then swiftly turned Teo's head to the right side, which resulted in the bones in his neck to snap. Suddenly, Wilson noticed something on the right side that made him raise a brow.
It was that of a light-skinned man with brown hair, wearing glasses and a black business suit. The usual attire of James Wesley, the personal assistant of Wilson Fisk, who stood by the doorway with a yellow envelope in hand, waiting for his employer to acknowledge him.
Wilson knew already that Wesley must be here for a reason. For the earlier days of his employment, he told him not to come to his gym unless he had important information concerning business. As such, he dropped Teo's corpse, then walked over to the cage door.
Wesley could see that Wilson wasn't in the best of moods as he exited the cage, picked up a white towel from a small table, and tried his head and face. He then watched Wilson walk toward him and was just as intimidated by his presence as anyone else working for him. But thankfully, he hid it under his professional demeanor. "I apologize for interrupting your workout, Mr. Fisk."
"Don't be. It was hardly worth my time," Wilson replied irritably, then briefly looked over his shoulder to view the three fighters' corpses in disgust. "It's a good thing they were told that they would be paid IF they could survive a session with me. Otherwise, it would've been a waste of money." He then looked back at Wesley with a stern expression. "More importantly, I assume you're here because what you have in that envelope is important?"
"Yes, sir." With speed comparable to his employer, Wesley opened the envelope and pulled out a photograph of Spider-Man on top of the getaway car containing the three crooks he apprehended the night before. "These were taken from one of our spies in NoMad last night," Wesley explained as Wilson looked at the photograph. "The men in the car had robbed a jewelry store and were supposed to drop off the merchandise in a meetup spot in Greenwich Village, but he stopped them."
Wilson looked at the photograph intensely. This was one of many operations that this 'Spider-Man' he's heard so much about stopped. All of which made the crime lord view this costumed vigilante with annoyance and concern, as he now saw him as a threat to his business. "Where are the Enforcers?"
"Last I heard, Montana informed me that they tracked down David Slott and 'dealt' with him, as per your instructions."
Wilson nodded in acknowledgment, then handed the photo back to Wesley as he gave him this order. "Contact them and let them know that I have a spider that needs to be squashed," Wilson ordered, then his annoyance returned as he pointed his left thumb over his shoulders and his three dead sparring partners. "But first, have someone come down and clean that up."