(This follows The Pursuit of the Millennium B—the death of May Parker)
(One) 17:26 the day of May Parker's death.
Someone who appeared to be a balding Jew in his sixties was talking on the telephone. He was not, in fact, a Jew or in his sixties. Nor was it clear what his interlocutor was saying.
"Anyway, thanks to our colleague, we know more about the situation. As it turned out, she did know. Everything, as it turned out.
"No, no, I won't deny I was mildly skeptical. Your little arrangement had been working for quite some time and there was no reason to think there would be any problems before today. But your intuition was correct. And everything is only going to get worse, from your point of view.
"In fact, you're even more right. The Osborn situation was bad enough: just the sort of loophole with his frequent and convenient amnesia to complicate everything. But someone was also tracking him.
"Please don't interrupt. Osborn's convenient assassin has no motive to reveal anything. The Very Long Game and all that. That's not our immediate problem.
"Yes, I do. Yes, if only for an instant. How bad is it? It's not an immediate problem. We have some time.
"Yes, we must limit their contact. You do have a plan. I see. I see. We simply move our schedule ahead.
"Oh, him. Not a thing. He's still too much in shock to remember clearly what she said.
"The basic plan goes right ahead. Understood. And we don't have to do anything immediately. We can enjoy the holiday season.
"Sorry, poor taste on my part. Yes, it would help everything if Spider-Man were simply to die. Well, the next few weeks will be especially perilous. Perhaps we'll get lucky.
(Two) It was Boxing Day after the brownest Christmas in New York City in memory. It was a cloudy, dispiriting early afternoon. Certainly, it was so for the many mourners at one of the city's largest Protestant churches as they attended the funeral of May Parker-Jameson, briefly the former stepmother of J. Jonah Jameson.
Not a Dream! Not an Imaginary Story! The Death of the Amazing Spider-Man!
(Three) The central nave of the church had two entrances, and Peter was standing at one of them meeting mourners. He saw Jameson at the other one. Just then Flash Thompson came in. They embraced.
"How are you holding up?" Flash asked.
"As much as can be expected," Peter replied. Then his eyes stared open wide.
"Ben!" he gasped. For it was indeed Ben Reilly, or actually Peter Parker's clone. "It's good that you found out."
"You know, it's not just the blonde hair that make the two of you look different." Flash noted. "I wouldn't assume you were Peter's clone at all."
"Uh, Flash, if you could not mention family secrets…" but then Peter felt his Spider-Sense.
"I'm feeling it too," Ben said.
"Ben, find a place to sit and try not to raise any awkward questions," Peter said as he walked to the door outside. He saw a limousine's door opened, and saw a very large, completely bald and extremely imposing man, one who always wore white after Labor Day. The Kingpin.
"Do I know you, young man?" he asked Peter.
But just then Peter realized J. Jonah Jameson was behind him. "You are not welcome here, Fisk."
"I know we've been rivals in the past Jonah, but I don't see why they should prevent us from being together in your time of sorrow." Wilson Fisk's tone was completely smooth and polite.
(Four) "This isn't a matter of simply partisanship…" Jonah remonstrated.
"Of course, if it were, JJ would be really bad at it," Peter thought.
"Leave. Now."
Fisk was not remotely intimidated by Jameson's two security guards. But he felt no reason to press the point. "How unfortunate. Still, I have time to reach the other funeral held today." And he left.
Peter and JJ returned to the nave where the service was about to begin. Jameson noted key Bugle figures such as Joe "Robbie" Robertson and his son Randy (but not his daughter-in-law). He, but not Peter, noted the new district attorney Charles Scorsese with his bespectacled wife and their slightly plump eight-year-old son.
Paul Raban came up to Peter. "I'm so sorry for your loss," he said, shaking his hand.
"Thank you," Peter replied sitting down. J. Jonah Jameson was sitting with Joe Robertson in the same pew, a little distance away. He noticed that Mary Jane Watson had sat down with her aunt Anna in the pew across, while Ben sat a couple of rows behind Peter.
The reverend spoke up to begin the service. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to mourn the loss of Maybelle Parker-Jameson."
(Five) Across Manhattan at another large and reasonably exclusive Protestant church, Elizabeth Allan Osborn was very upset that the nave was half-empty at her father-in-law's funeral. "Where is everyone?" she complained. Her young son Norman ("Normie") nervously sat be her side.
"Mrs. Osborn, I did tell you that it was unwise to schedule the funeral at the same time as that of the former mayor's stepmother," Ms. Koziak tactfully replied.
Liz was not in a gracious mood. "Schultz!" she said to another Oscorp functionary. He was cleanshaven, a man of average height and weight, with dark hair, perhaps a decade older than Liz. While not ugly, he was hardly attractive or bursting with sexual magnetism.
"Yes, Mrs. Osborn?"
"Is there anyone really important here? I want them to sit with me up in the front."
"Let me see…hold on, I see former mayor Wilson Fisk coming in."
"Tell him to come here."
"Is that a really good idea?" Ms. Koziak asked.
"Just do it!"
But not everyone was at a funeral today. Case in point was a tall, clean-shaven man with brown hair approaching a shop: "KLEIZMANN DIAMOND EXCHANGE." On the front was a sign: "CLOSED UNTIL JANUARY 2. HAVE A HAPPY NEW YEAR."
"Except I know you're actually not closed, even if customers can't come in," the man thought wryly. And with a wave of his hand the electronic lock clicked, and the door opened.
(Six) Back at Aunt May's funeral her older sister April was at the front giving some of her memories. She was sitting in a wheelchair with a cast on her right leg. "I will admit that we could have been closer. We [referring also to Aunt May's second sister, Jan] have been living in Florida. We didn't get a chance to see her before she died because I broke my leg falling down a flight of stairs."
As she continued, Peter scanned the many flowers and wreaths near the coffin. He noticed one rather large wreath with familiar handwriting. "From the closest of friends."
"Doc Ock," he realized.
Meanwhile, Mary Jane and Anna Watson were watching April speak. Mary Jane noticed her aunt was crying. "Are you all right?"
"No. It's not just because May is dead. It's because I can feel it. I can feel a quarter century of memories of her that were as clear as day, slowly fading away. Every time I blink, I feel something vanish. And then I don't remember what I just lost. And this has been happening for months. I don't know how much I've lost. But I do know I'll lose everything."
Mary Jane shivered, while her aunt continued. "And sometimes I get the feeling that there is someone in the shadows, slowly snuffing one candle after another candle. I don't understand why."
(Seven) December 20th
Peter's memories took how back to the day after Aunt May died. Ms. Koziak had invited (actually ordered) him to attend a meeting at Oscorp headquarters. As he entered the room, he saw several intimidating figures. Several were clearly from the NYPD. There were former members of SHIELD, as well as people from Homeland Security. Ms. Koziak directed about a dozen people into the boardroom. Peter sat down at the far end of the table.
"Excuse me, young man," said a woman's voice behind him.
Peter was a bit startled as he thought there was no one behind him. "Sorry what?"
Ms. Koziak explained the situation. "I'd like everyone to welcome Mrs. Adelaide Wargrave, joining us from Zoom from London." Peter thought he was looking at a panel at the bureau behind him. But the "panel" turned on, showing the features a stern woman in her late fifties.
"Mrs. Wargrave is a liaison with the Supreme Court of Britain. She is part of SHIELD's connections with Britain, and Europe as a whole."
"And as such," Mrs. Wargrave said, "we are very concerned about the former head of SHIELD being assassinated yesterday."
"Who is this man at the far end of the table?" asked one of the Homeland Security people, referring to Peter.
"Peter Parker is an intimate friend of the Osborn family," Ms. Koziak explained. "He was the closest friend of Mr. Osborn's late son, Harry Osborn. I don't think anyone knew Mr. Osborn as well as he did."
"That's putting it mildly," Peter thought remembering Osborn's long history as the Green Goblin.
(Eight) Now
The service had concluded. Peter walked up to the open casket of his aunt, followed by J. Jonah Jameson.
"One last look before the pallbearers take her," Jonah said.
Peter gulped, looked down into the coffin, and then closed it. Behind him Flash Thompson and Joe Robertson led the other four pallbearers.
"I thought Jameson's father was buried in Boston. Why isn't his widow being buried with him?" asked one of the pallbearers, whom Peter recognized as one of Aunt May's co-workers at the last non-profit she was working at.
"During the marriage, Jonah's dad agreed she'd be buried by her first husband," Robertson explained.
"That is so weird," said a fourth pallbearer, whom Peter recognized as Arthur Lubensky, the much younger brother of Nathan Lubensky, a swain of Aunt May's who had died too young many years earlier. "Because I was a pallbearer at that funeral too. And it turned out it was a complete imposter."
The pallbearers took the coffin and walked down the aisle. Peter and Jonah followed them, slowly joined by the rest of the mourners.
"Doctor Octopus not only sent a wreath, but he also asked if he could be a pallbearer. I told him no," Jonah whispered to Peter.
"Thank you."
(Nine) Dec 20th-Oscorp headquarters
"So, you don't have any leads on who assassinated the former head of the world's most important security organization," said Adelaide Wargrave with considerable annoyance.
"No, that would be inaccurate," Ms. Koziak rebutted. "We are dealing with someone who can transport very quickly to take out several security teams. It involves some kind of teleportation power. There are several super-powered entities who can do this, but none of their powers matches our assassin. If it were the Spot, the X-Man Nightcrawler, the criminal Vanisher and the mutant Lila Cheney we'd be able to detect their presence. But it isn't them. My colleague Mr. Schultz has suggested a matter transmission process, which would leave some kind of electronic signature. We have been able to detect signs of that, which resemble how other super-powered people have transported themselves. But they are distinctly different from them."
"My government has little time for niceties. I assume that everyone here knew Osborn had a long career as the Green Goblin. What's being done with Roderick Kingsley, the Hobgoblin?"
"We detained him in Boston less than two hours after Osborn's death," said a homeland security man. "He's cagey, reticent and hiring every lawyer that he can. Of course he was planning something, but it wasn't this."
"Someone was calling him," Ms. Koziak chimed in. "I don't know how high up or how important this person was. But the call was from within New York City."
"This is all very well," Mrs. Wargrave replied. "But there's another factor. Osborn has been buried before, only to come back, as if magically resurrected. My government insists on seeing the autopsy."
(Ten) Now: Kleizmann diamond exchange
The intruder was standing near a corner. He had taken something the size of a large remote control and was apparently typing something on it. This object was linked by two wires into a plug-in. As he worked, the intruder hummed a tune.
Just then a security guard entered. "Excuse me, but outsiders aren't allowed in the building today."
The intruder completely ignored him and continued working. "Excuse me, but did you hear what I…"
But then the guard felt a strong electrical shock and dropped to the floor. The intruder quickly unplugged his object and went through the door the unconscious guard had entered.
He now entered a room with at least a dozen people moving crates of diamonds and expensive jewelry who were surprised to see him. Perfectly nonchalant about their presence, which included at least five other security guards, he smiled.
"I imagine some of you can recognize me. Well then, there's no real need to have any disguise." And with a sudden flash, he revealed his criminal identity—the notorious Electro!
"Now, I also know what you're thinking. You're just Max Dillon, who happened to get electrical powers in a freak accident. You've been an insufferable pain for fifteen years, but super-heroes have never had any problem stopping you. And neither will we, because we've built special systems precisely for you as we prefer this especially important jewelry transfer.
(Eleven) "But funny thing, after doing this for fifteen years I've learned a lot about electricity. And this little do-hickey has not only prevented you from noting my presence unless directly seen. It also allows me to turn off your security systems and your cameras. And it prevents you from calling the police.
"But that's not all!" Very quickly some of the exchange people found themselves locked in their rooms. Others were blocked by force fields. Others saw their elaborate anti-theft devices neutralized. And then a sudden shock rendered them all unconscious.
Another side effect of the device was that all the diamonds and jewelry flowed into an invisible cylinder several feet above the ground. "There must be at least eight figures here! Maybe nine! And it's all mine with nobody to stop me!"
Just then a very familiar figure crashed through an upper-level window. "Come on Electro, you really don't think it's going to be that easy!"
"Spider-Man!"
(Twelve) Dec 20-21st
The next two days Peter Parker spent watching Norman Osborn's autopsy on a videoscreen were among the least pleasant in his life.
"What is that star-shaped cross on his chest?" an NSA woman asked.
"When he was the Green Goblin, he was almost impaled by his own glider," Ms. Koziak explained. "He survived, but he went to Europe for several years."
"It would be ironic if the man who stopped the Skrull invasion was replaced by a Skrull," an FBI woman said.
"No. Skrulls revert to their true form when they die. And even if the Empire found a way around that, their bodily organs are arranged differently, as are those of the other shape-shifting species we know."
"What if he's a Life Model Decoy?" asked a Homeland Security Man.
"No, they're structured quite differently. I just emailed you the relevant files to clarify matters. Genetically, everything shows this is Norman Osborn."
"Quite," agreed Mrs. Wargrave. "What if he's a clone?"
"I can answer that," said the head surgeon performing the autopsy. "To create not just a clone, but an adult clone, you need special medical treatments to advance the cellular growth. You also need another set of medical treatments to stabilize the first set, otherwise the clone will disintegrate within a few years.
[Thirteen) "The point is such treatments are easily detectable. And there's nothing there."
The FBI woman spoke up. "I was told Osborn's goblin formula provided him with a healing factor. How is that factor working?"
"We're noticing the overall effect the formula had on his cells. And there are some minor post-mortem effects. But they're not remotely strong enough to reverse the effects of death. Nor could they once his heart was shot."
There were further conversations, as Peter saw organs taken out of the body, while the surgeon explained the complex processes to examine Osborn's brain without opening the skull, since his daughter-in-law wanted an open casket funeral if possible.
Dec 22. "One more thing," Mrs. Wargrave said. "We all know about alternate realities. How do we know this is our reality's Norman Osborn?"
"I have someone who can confirm that is the case," said Ms. Koziak. She opened the door and Dr. Strange entered, dressed in his "normal" "civilian" clothes.
(Fourteen) Now
Spider-Man easily dodged a blast from Electro. "Geez, Electro. How can your shocks move at the speed of light while you're so slow?" he teased.
"How did you even know I'm here?" Electro wondered.
"Wouldn't you like to know? But I think you can guess the answer to your next question."
Just then, an all too familiar message could be heard. "THIS IS THE POLICE, ELECTRO! PUT YOUR HANDS UP AND SURRENDER TO THE AUTHORITIES!" Outside there were squad cars of New York's finest, with more arriving.
Spider-Man was bouncing off the ceiling and the tops of the wall. "Cool gizmo you got Electro. Except I've always been smarter than you and can easily counter it. And oh look. What's happening to your magic cylinder?" And Electro turned to see the force field holding all the jewels fail and his loot crash to the floor.
At the exact same time the funeral party had returned from the cemetery and select guests were attending the wake.
"Who are you, young man?" an elderly woman asked Ben Reilly.
"Oh, I'm Ben Reilly, one of May Parker's relatives."
"Well, I'm Jan Reilly, May Parker's sister, and I don't recall anyone named Ben in our entire family.
(Fifteen) Ben winced, realized that he had never been close to the Reilly family and indeed barely remembered Aunt May's relatives. While he struggled to find an explanation, Peter moved to the corner where Mary Jane was sitting.
"Hello Peter. The last few days must have been horrible."
"They've certainly been exhausting. Jonah's been paying all the bills, but that still means I had to spend all of yesterday afternoon arguing with the caterers for the wake. And there's been no shortages of forms and complications to deal with, not to mention Osborn's death as well."
Something occurred to Peter. "I was told you where there when he died."
"Actually, he died in my arms. Or to be more precise, the force of the shot pushed us both to the ground."
"Ouch." The two of them saw Anna Watson speaking to mutual close friends of Aunt May and saw the pain on their faces as Anna's dementia became more apparent.
"Peter, I know this is not what you want to hear. You just lost the woman who meant more to you than your actual mother. But the shock of Osborn… it's hard to explain. The experience was just… I can't easily find the words. But, but, I realized something definite… something after all the many, many times Osborn tried to ruin our lives. Part of it just seems like I'm babbling. But after what happened…
"Peter, I know that you haven't said anything about this, and I definitely know this is not what you want to hear. But we can't be together. We just simply can't, in anything but the most platonic sense. And for the time being it's going to be fairly ephemeral."
Mary Jane tried to stand up, and for some reason it was awkward for her. "Can I help you?" asked a tall handsome man everyone recognized as John Jameson, Jonah's only child and son.
"Yes, please."
(Sixteen) Spider-Man and Electro were still fighting the diamond exchange. "Oh, I brought something extra," Spider-Man said.
Outside could be heard a television reporter. "We're coming from you live as the costumed superhero Spider-Man is fighting the villainous Electro who appears to be committing a brazen Boxing Day heist."
"Ain't I a stinker," Spider-Man smirked. Meanwhile two more television crews were arriving, while the police were advancing into the building.
Peter was back at the wake approaching the open bar. "The last time I got really drunk, I deeply regretted it. And I have a lot to do over the next few days," he thought. "I wonder if that fruit punch…"
Just then Paul Rabin tapped him on the shoulder. "Peter, I think there's something you should see." They walked to the corner where Flash Thompson and several similarly aged men were looking at their phones. On the way to join them, Paul tapped Ben. "This involves you too."
To the two Spider-Men's surprise they saw the Spider-Man/Electro fight. "Don't look at me," Ben said.
(Seventeen) The police and the media had made their way sufficiently into the building so that they could both see the room where Electro and Spider-Man were fighting. In fact, Spider-Man had just leaped from the ceiling only to be caught in a bolt of power from Electro.
"Geez, Electro, you're really losing it," Spider-Man said as he reached Electro and punched him in the head. "Second time we fought; don't you remember that your bolts don't mean anything if I'm not grounded?"
Back at the wake, Peter, Ben and now Mary Jane was seeing this.
"Kaine."
"Kaine."
"Kaine," they all realized.
"Why is he wearing my costume?" Peter thought.
One thing Electro had learned over the years was how to roll with a punch, so he wasn't unconscious while Kaine (for that is indeed who it was) was now standing a few feet behind him. As Electro stumbled away, it was clear that he was in great pain. And this wasn't the result of the punch, for the agony was clearly in his stomach.
"What's wrong?" Kaine asked, only to gasp in agony as a great pain ravaged his spine.
(Eighteen) Dec 22
Dr. Strange was explaining his examination of Osborn's body. "However complex the mystical procedure is, the basic principle is very simple. Each alternate universe has a certain mystical aura, and this aura can be seen in every being and thing that originated in said universe. Should an entity enter another alternate universe, that entity will also absorb some of that universe's aura, but only to a limited extent, and only to the proportion to the amount of time spent in it.
"Examining Mr. Osborn's corpse shows that he is from this universe and has only been from this universe. The same is true of his late son as well as the late clone of his son. The same principle can also be verified from complex subatomic examination."
Adelaide Wargrave nodded. "My government would like to see the results of such an examination as well."
Shortly thereafter, during a coffee break, Dr. Strange walked up to Peter. "If I could speak to you in private…"
Soon they were a few rooms down, where they could not be overheard. "First off, Doc, I am really sorry about crashing into your home.*"
(*Pursuit of the Millennium#958)
"Think nothing of it. One advantage of being Sorcerer Supreme was that fixing the damage was very easy.
"What I did want to talk to you about was the strange mystical energies that flowed through your flight with Morlun. And it appears that they were the results of assorted Spider-Totems, giving you a brief, temporary heads up. But there's something more. I'm not sure what it is frankly. There's something more behind it. And I will have to wait until the New Year before I can examine it properly."
(Nineteen) Now
Electro and Kaine were staggering around the diamond exchange, both wracked with pain. "This is incredible," said a television reporter gingerly approaching the scene. "For years Spider-Man and Electro have fought each other. Usually with Electro defeated. But now both seem to be struck with some unknown illness."
"Is it some kind of gas or disease?" one of the police officers wondered.
"It doesn't seem to be hurting us," realized one of the diamond exchange workers.
The police officer who just spoke tried to move further, only to be forced back by another one of Electro's sparks. Electro was trying to rebuild his invisible container to take in all the jewelry. But he wasn't strong enough to power it. Desperately he stumbled along, trying to find a box to at least contain some of them.
"We're getting reports that a special NYPD anti-super villain team will be on the scene shortly," said the reporter. Electro, running out of time, snatched a purse belonging to one of the diamond exchange workers. He winced at how small it was. He quickly emptied it and ran back to the pile of jewelry.
There he fell to his knees, and it was difficult for him to get the energy to take in the jewels. Meanwhile Kaine, also on his knees, tried to approach him. "No! It can't end like this! I refuse to let it end like this!"
(Twenty) But just then, a strange energy wracked his body. Electro managed to scoop a few jewels into the small purse.
"No! No! NOOO!" Kaine screamed.
And then Kaine's body began to disintegrate. To the shock of the police and the media, there was nothing of him but a pile of dust.
"That can't be good," Ben said back at the wake.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is incredible. We have just witnessed the death of one of New York's most famous and longest lasting super heroes… from completely unknown causes." The reporter gulped live on camera. "This is a dark day for New York City."
(Twenty-One) "His body dissolved exactly the way a clone's body dissolves," Peter said. "But that only happens when a clone is mortally wounded. So why now? And what happened to Electro?"
As it happened Electro had escaped to the sewers in the confusion of Kaine's death. He was knee-deep in the cold December waters, and he was still in considerable pain. And then he realized something else was happening.
He turned around and saw several floating spherical objects. "NYPD security devices. And I'm not strong enough to stop them!"
And then, abruptly, the spheres powered off and they dropped harmlessly into the water. "Don't worry about it, Maxwell," said a voice behind Electro.
(Twenty-Two) Electro turned and recognized the person who had rescued him. "You…"
The rescuer spoke. "I've never put a particular high value on frankness, Dillon. Truth to me is more a scientific value than a moral one. But I can most definitely assure you that you are going to die soon from the ailment you suffer. And the only way for you to save your life is do exactly what I tell you."
The man who spoke was somewhat squat, had an unattractive bowl haircut, wore dark glasses, but wore a striking white suit. He was protected from the muck of squalor of the sewers as his four mechanical arms carried him out of the way of the dirt and the water.
Doctor Octopus.