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| Issue #14 May 2009 |
"Return of the King" Written by Andrew Gabriel |
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***This issue follows the events of ‘Altered Visions Presents’ #12, “The Return of the King” prelude***
“Mr. Silvermane? You alright, sir?”
Silvio Manfredi, best known by his underworld alias of ‘Silvermane’ sat, staring at a television screen, as a plate of manicotti grew cold in front of him. Lost in his own thoughts, the mafia crime lord ignored the sound of his assistant’s voice.
The news program playing across the television screen revealed scenes of organized chaos broadcasted from New York’s first annual Corporate Cooperation Conference, otherwise known as the C.C.C. As Silvermane watched, it wasn’t the words of the numerous reporters or the constant images of one wealthy businessman after another that kept his attention, it was a strange nagging feeling that ran down what was left of his spine…a sensation of impending, dramatic change.
“Mr. Silvermane,” his assistant asked again, approaching his boss’s table.
“Yes? What is it Paulie,” Silvermane finally responded, turning from the T.V.
“This just arrived for you,” Paulie said, handing a plain white envelope to Silvermane. “It was slid under the door, really ain’t sure who it’s from.”
“Open it,” Silvermane ordered, as he eyed the mysterious packet curiously.
Paulie ripped the top of the envelope open, and removed a small, handwritten note from inside. As he silently read the message, Paulie’s eyes went wide, his face pale, and he had to grab edge of the table for support as his stomach fell to his feet.
“What the Hell does it say,” Silvermane yelled, watching his assistant’s reaction.
“ I-It says…says…I’ve finally got you in my s-sights…Now you’re gonna burn…”
Silvermane stood from the table, knocking it over in the process. Before he could react to the ominous note held in Paulie’s shaking hands, the Italian restaurant erupted in a massive, incinerating fireball.
********************
“…Now you’re gonna burn…”
A moment later, static filled the ear piece which had been receiving Silvermane’s conversation from inside the restaurant.
“You got that right,” the Punisher whispered to himself, pulling the receiver from his ear, as he watched the small Italian bistro explode through a pair of military issued binoculars from a rooftop across the street.
Pieces of burning debris showered the block around the eatery, and shockwaves from the blast continued to reverberate for almost a minute. As planned, the street surrounding the restaurant had been closed for repair the night before, ensuring that civilians wouldn’t be harmed in the attack.
Even though he had wired the building with enough explosives to ensure that even Silvermane’s metal hide would burn, Frank Castle kept his binoculars peeled on the restaurant for almost five minutes after the initial explosion, reassuring himself that the geriatric underworld figure hadn’t escaped his judgment.
As the sounds of emergency vehicles filled the air and onlookers poured onto the street outside the restaurant, the Punisher lowered his binoculars, feeling accomplished. He pocketed the small detonator that had set off the explosion, and walked towards a fire escape near the back of the rooftop.
This particular stage was a success, Castle thought, but the battle wasn’t over yet. He had yet another piece of garbage to dispose of, another which had been provided to him by his mysterious informant. Though still unsure as to where this information was coming from, the intelligence had been completely accurate on Silvermane, and the Punisher had minimal doubts that the same would be sure for his next target.
********************
“…A crowd has begun to grow around the press area here at the Roxxon Conference Center. It seems, more than any of the high profile corporate leaders we’ve seen during the first day of New York’s first annual ‘Corporate Cooperation Conference’, that journalists and civilians alike have saved their energy and questions for man…”
Peter Parker sat at his desk, a #2 pencil pressed between his teeth, looking over the mass of papers he called a grade book. He was only half listening to the empty classroom’s television, as his mind kept wandering, while he tried to figure out mid-term grades for the students in his chemistry class.
“…was only recently added to the C.C.C.’s corporate guest list, having unexpectedly returned to the country only this morning. In just a few moments, he will be taking questions and is expected to announce…”
Parker slammed the disorganized pile onto his desk, becoming annoyed with the irresponsible way he had kept his grades. He leaned back in his chair, and stared at the ceiling. Grades weren’t the real reason he had stayed after school today. He was waiting to meet with one of his students; a young girl named Carla Jacobs.
As far as Peter’s chemistry class had gone, Carla had always been a quiet, strange girl, but the ‘strange’ factor had recently begun to increase. For the past few weeks, she had made passing comments to him about knowing the ‘truth’, as she called it; the fact that he was Spider-Man. He had always dismissed the comments, but it was getting to the point where the issue needed to be confronted. Today, she had left a note for him on his desk as she ran out of the room.
“…Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Wilson Fisk…”
Peter almost fell over backwards in his chair, his ears finally tuning back into the T.V. He stood up, and hurried over to the set, turning it louder.
“Thank you. Thank you all very much,” Wilson Fisk said, approaching the podium. Standing on stage, behind the wooden pedestal, the Kingpin, wearing an Italian made dark blue suit, was a very imposing figure, even on a T.V. screen.
The press immediately began to barrage the supposed businessman with questions, as cameras flashed and reporters with microphones volleyed for the best positions.
“…What brings you back to New York…?”
“…Is Fisk Enterprises making a comeback…?”
“…About the speculation that you have ties with the city’s underworld…”
“…Can you comment on the legal issues that forced the demise of your company…?”
Peter watched, his face almost touching the television display. He couldn’t believe that the Kingpin himself was the center of a press conference…at least one that wasn’t on the steps of a courthouse!
“Your questions are all valid, and each will be answered in time,” Fisk bellowed, quieting the sea of journalists. “But first, my abrupt appearance at this amazing collaboration of New York’s finest business leaders needs to be explained.”
“Yeah, I would say so,” Parker commented to himself.
“Let me first give my supreme condolences to the family of the late August D’Angelo. His work as Chairman of the Roxxon Energy Corporation was both great and inspiring. As many of you know, I, too, have been the target of corporate assassination attempts…”
‘Corporate assassination attempts’; those three words caused the press to explode into a frenzy once more.
“…you believe that the Chairman’s murder was spurred by corporate rivalries…”
“…Any evidence to support these claims…”
Parker had to hand it to the obese former crime lord though, as he stood watching the live news broadcast, he sure knew how to use a situation to his advantage.
“Please, let me finish,” Fisk spoke, raising a hand to quiet the press pool once again. “It is only my humble opinion that makes me suspect this type of transgression. I will, however, say that having had experience in that sort of…situation, gives me an insight into the tragedy that has played out…”
“You were usually the one behind those tragedies,” Peter muttered, shaking his head.
“…It is with that said, that I am here today, at this unique conference, to announce that Fisk Enterprises has officially returned to New York. Renewed, restructured, and with the explicit intent to ensure that the rivalries that have plagued the corporate businesses of this city will come to an end. My company…I…will not allow these activities to ruin the reputation of doing business in this fine metropolis. The times, my friends, are about to change for the better…”
“Who’s the fat man on the T.V.?”
Peter turned at the sound of the voice, realizing that Carla was standing in the doorway to the classroom.
“He…uh…He’s a business man,” Peter said with a smile, shutting the television before approaching his student. “And yes…he is a fat man…a very fat man.”
The comment made Carla smile and Peter was glad that there didn’t seem to be any tension between the two…at least for the time being, he thought, but the young girl needed to be confronted.
“What did you want to see me about, Mr. Parker?”
“I think you know, Carla. I found the note that you left on my desk today after class.”
“Note? What note,” the girl said in a playful tone.
Peter frowned and furrowed his brow. He took the note from his pocket.
“This, Carla, this note. The one that specifically says ‘I know you’re Spider-Man, and it’s O.K.’.
“It is,” she replied, nodding her head. “I do know, Mr. Parker, and I think it’s awesome!”
Peter found himself so confused by the girl, that he couldn’t respond to her comments.
“My teacher is a super-hero! What’s it like climbing a wall with your hands…or, or…using your web stuff to catch a bank robber…”
“Carla, lower your voice,” Peter finally said, raising his own, cutting off the girl’s questions. “Please, just lower your voice...”
He knew there wasn’t getting around, or out, of this one. Somehow, this girl, his student, knew that he was Spider-Man, and he needed to deal with it…somehow.
“…Just…Can you just tell me how you found out,” Peter asked her gently.
Carla smiled, and pulled Parker by his sleeve, leading him behind his desk, and close to the classroom’s dry erase board.
“Well,” the girl began whispering into Peter’s ear. “I kinda found out from…”
Suddenly, Peter Parker found himself unable to listen to Carla, as a familiar tingling sensation filled his mind; a feeling of danger overflowing his senses, as his ‘spider sense’ kicked into action.
He turned on his heels to face the doorway.
“Heh, Spider-Man’s a stinkin’ grade school teacher.”
A man dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a brown leather jacket had walked into the classroom, and was now leaning against a bulletin board. His spider sense blaring, Peter instinctively put himself between Carla and the stranger. He recognized him, but couldn’t pinpoint the face at the moment. All he knew, was some danger was apparent.
“Who are you? What do you want?”
The stranger smiled and laughed, moving closer to Peter and Carla.
“Don’t recognize me, do ya? Don’t recognize me outside of a jail cell or hospital bed? Funny. As for what I want…”
The stranger rolled up his sleeves, revealing a recognizable pair of ‘vibro-smashers’ wrapped around a familiar yellow costume.
“…I want you to die!”
Before Peter Parker could react to the fact that the Shocker was standing in his classroom, the villain had already released a massive blast aimed at Spider-Man. In a split second, Parker realized that if he jumped from the blast, Carla would be killed. He had no choice…
The Shocker’s vibro blast slammed into Spider-Man’s chest, hurtling him backwards. Carla was crushed from the force of the impact, her body wedged between Parker and the board. The whole room shook from the shockwaves, shattering windows.
Spider-Man felt as if his chest had caved in. He grasped for breath, his entire body convulsing painfully. The Shocker walked confidently towards Peter. He grabbed the hero by what remained of both his blue button down shirt and the Spider-Man costume hidden underneath it.
“This is for all those times you beat the s*** out of me, Parker,” the Shocker said, pulling him close to his face. “That’s right, I know your name now, punk, and when I’m done here, I’m gonna pay your sweet little wife a visit.”
Spider-Man tried to speak, but couldn’t.
With a growl, the Shocker tossed Peter through one of the classroom’s shattered windows, sending him sailing three stories to the street below.
********************
Spider-Man awoke with a gasp to the blaring sound of a car alarm. For a split second, he wished the sound would stop pummeling his brain like a jackhammer so that he could go back to sleep. Then, he remembered what had happened.
He quickly realized that he was lying on the caved in roof of a Ford Explorer, and that the impact of his own body with the car had caused the alarm to engage. The car’s roof was now part of its interior, and, although he couldn’t see them, Parker could hear the sound of concerned people gathering around.
“Wait, if I can’t see them…they can’t see me,” he mumbled to himself.
With that realization, Peter Parker hastily pulled on the Spider-Man mask that he had tucked in the back of his shirt. His identity protected…at least from prying eyes, Spider-Man picked himself up off the roof, and leapt for the third floor window where he had been thrown from. His head was still spinning, and he knew he had broken a couple of ribs, but his main concern was getting back into that classroom…and back to Carla.
He hurtled over the broken window sill and stopped…the room was empty; the Shocker was gone and had apparently taken Carla with him. He could hear a dozen footsteps and the sound of muffled voices coming closer to the room. Using what time he had, Parker ripped off the rest of his civilian clothes, fully dressing into the Spider-Man outfit.
As he did, he caught a glimpse of the dry erase board. A large, circular indent had been mashed into it by Carla’s head from the impact. Feeling sick to his stomach at the fate of the child, Peter recognized a long trail of blood leading from the indent in the board and out the door. The Shocker had unwittingly left him a trail to follow!
Following the trail, Spider-Man ran at full speed from the room, almost bowling over Principal Muniz and a group of teachers who had heard the commotion.
“…Spider-Man…”
“…in Parker’s class room…”
“…any students in there with…”
He ignored their shouts, and followed the blood down the hallway and into a stairwell. Leaping from one flight to the next as his chest heaved in pain, Spider-Man bolted through the access door to the roof where the bloody path ended. He found the Shocker holding Carla by her right arm, dangling her body from the roof.
“Christ…can’t you just die,” the Shocker yelled, disappointed to find the web-slinger had found him.
Spider-Man examined his student from where he stood. Carla had blood streaming from her head, but he could see that she was moving…she was still alive.
“Give her to me or you’ll be the one going over that ledge,” Parker warned.
“Let’s find out,” the Shocker replied, releasing the little girl’s arm.
“Carla!”
The Shocker sprinted for the other side of the roof, as Spider-Man sprang into action. He dove off the roof, watching Carla fall. With seconds to spare, Spider-Man caught up to Carla, cradled the girl in one arm, and shot a web-line back towards the roof, which connected to the concrete ledge. Their falling momentum ceased, and the pair swung into an arc only inches from the asphalt.
“M-Mr. P-Parker…,” Carla muttered, the words barely escaping her lips.
“Don’t talk sweetheart…stay calm, you’re going to be fine.”
Eying a squad of police cars surrounding the wrecked S.U.V. where he had been lying only minutes before, Spider-Man quickly steering towards them. He landed on top of the nearest police car, startling the sergeant standing next to it.
“Holy…”
“Her name is Carla Jacobs…She needs to get to a hospital now,” Spider-Man hollered as he laid Carla into the arms of the still stunned officer.
“Y-Yeah…Of course…”
But Spider-Man couldn’t hear the policeman’s response. He was already swinging back towards the school’s roof as fast as he could. Shocker wasn’t getting away from him.
He landed on the roof on all fours, and found that the Shocker was hurriedly trying to put as many rooftops between him and the school as he could. Angered and in pain, Spider-Man bolted after the criminal, quickly closing the gap.
Shocker turned before he made his next jump to an adjacent roof.
“Son of a…,” was all he was able to say before Spider-Man’s fist crushed his nose.
Schultz let loose a blast, but failed to hit the enraged super-hero. Parker grabbed the villain’s outstretched arm right arm, and crushed the vibro-smasher around it, breaking the Shocker’s wrist in the process.
He screamed in pain, but Spider-Man kept coming; a hard punch to the stomach, knocking the wind from him, a kick to the left knee, dislocating it. Finally, Parker took the Shocker by the neck and pulled him in close.
“I know you’ve had enough,” he began. “But I haven’t. Tell me how you know who I am…Who you’re working for, or…”
Spider-Man outstretched his arm, letting the broken body of Herman Schultz dangle over an alley five stories below.
“…you’re going to die today.”
“G-God damn,” the Shocker muttered. “Y-You f***...I-it’s too late…w-we know w-who you are…y-you’re f-friends are n-next…
“What!?!”
“…T-that Black C-Cat b**** s-should be g-getting h-hers as w-we speak…’sides…y-you wouldn’t d-drop m-me…”
“Let’s find out,” Spider-Man replied, releasing his grasp on the Shocker’s neck.
Schultz screamed as he fell nearly three stories, before becoming ensnared in a massive web-trap that Spider-Man had created between the alley walls as he fell. The pain of his injuries and the shock of the fall left the Shocker unconscious in Spider-Man’s web.
As the sun set below the city’s skyline, Peter Parker felt his stomach twist in fear as he jumped from the roof, and swung as fast as he could toward the apartment of his long-time friend and colleague, the Black Cat.
********************
Felicia Hardy hummed as she toweled off from a nice, hot shower. Steam had filled the bathroom of her high-rise apartment, and she felt as if she was lost in a fog. It was nice, though, she thought. After a hard afternoon of being the costumed Black Cat, Felicia always did enjoy relaxing in a hot shower. The heat from the running water beating on her body soothed her aching muscles.
Wrapped in a towel, she opened the bathroom door, allowing the thick cloud of steam to escape into her master bedroom. A cool breeze hit her skin, and she noticed that the door to her balcony was open; the white lace curtains draped over the windows blew gently in the wind flowing from the evening air. She didn’t remember having left it open, but she had been so tired coming in, that she probably had. Felicia walked across the room, and shut the door.
“You always did have a body on you.”
The Black Cat spun around, startled, clutching her towel close to her chest. Her heart fell into her feet as she noticed the figure of a man sitting on a chair in the far corner of her bedroom.
“Who the f*** are you! Get the f*** out of my house!”
“I’ll tell you this though,” the man said standing, beginning to walk towards Felicia. “You look sweet in that kitty cat outfit you prance around in, but naked…wow…”
“You don’t know who the f*** you’re messing with…,” the Black Cat began to scream, until the words became caught in her throat out of sheer terror.
The man had walked close enough to her, and the light beaming in from the full moon outside, for the shadows to dissipate around him, revealing the distinct blue and white costume of the killer Bullseye.
She didn’t have time to react. Before she knew what hit her, Bullseye had lunged, hitting her hard in the stomach, knocking the towel from her grasp. She crumpled to the ground with a groan.
“I always did have a crush on you Black Cat,” Bullseye hissed as he dragged the stunned woman across the floor by her hair, finally tossing her onto the bed.
He pinned her body to the bed with his and leaned in close to her face. She could feel his hot breath on her body.
“Now I get to do something about it,” he whispered into her ear.
The Black Cat screamed, praying that someone would hear her.
********************
…To be continued…
The Kingpin has only just begun to unleash Hell upon the heroes of New York as he climbs back to the top, and only the tip of his massive scheme has been revealed!
What else does the immense crime lord have waiting up his sleeves?
Will the Black Cat and Carla Jacobs survive? And who is next on his hit list?
Don’t miss “The Return of the King” pt. 2 (of 6) in next issue’s ‘Amazing Spider-Man’ #15!
