Spider-Man 1. The Spider Falls From His Web

Greetings and Salutations! Before we get into the fic I want you to know this is a combination of Spiderman comics, books, the movie and any other thing I found over the last month pertaining to our favorite wall crawler. I'm what you would call a new fan and am not down with all the nitty gritty details of the Spidey universe. If I do have any mistakes I won't mind you pointing them out to me. Review and point out my mistakes! Come on I don't mind! 

Disclaimer: I don't own any Spiderman characters…so don't sue me.

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Spiderman smiled to himself under the skintight mask that stretched itself over his face. He was in such a good mood and the feeling of soaring above the streets of New York was exhilarating. It never got old; the feeling of invincibility that came as he shot over the unnoticing heads of the people below him. 

Shooting another web to snag the corner of one of the many skyscrapers that spanned the business district he was in, Spiderman swung wide over the boulevard beneath him and revealed in childish amusement as he felt his stomach leap as he dropped the one strand of webbing and allowing himself to drop a few feet before deciding to shot out another strand. 

Expelling another string of webbing up to the edge of the tallest building in the area, Spidey pulled himself onto the roof. Crouching on his heels, he settled himself on all fours before leaning into the brisk wind that blew over his body. Closing his eyes behind the shiny eyepieces of his costume, he sucked in a lungful of fresh air-well, as fresh as New York City air was concerned- and sighed a content sigh. 

Off on the jagged horizon, hidden behind the numerous silhouettes of buildings, the sun began to sink low and cast a ruby haze and long shadows on the surrounding landscape. Surveying the city spread out before him, Spiderman prepared himself for the night ahead. He was in the mood to beat some punk thief's behind. It wasn't because Spidey was angry or anything, it was just that whenever he was in a good mood, he felt like he needed to put some mischievous criminals behind bars. 

And lately his good moods had been more frequent. The main cause of his happiness stemmed from his alter ego, Peter Parker, and Mary-Jane's growing relationship. It had been a few months since the red-haired beauty had poured out her heart to Peter in the cemetery immediately after Norman Osborn's funeral. Talk about a romantic setting… 

Peter's apparent rejection at the time had seemed to only encourage MJ's relentless pursuit of the young photographer. Finally, using her last resort, MJ had cornered Peter in his apartment and revealed her knowledge of his double life as New York's wall crawling hero in spandex. And what the kicker had been, was that Mary Jane had come to her conclusion from a kiss! 

And now since his secret had been blown wide open, there seemed to be no more reason for him to shun MJ. Accepting the consequences of going out the always on call Spiderman, Peter and MJ had finally found their way to each other. 

Spiderman again smiled to himself as he remembered how glad he had been that Harry Osborn had moved out back into his father's estate and had not been present when MJ dropped the bomb. What a fiasco that could have been had Harry been there to overhear…

But things had turned out and now Peter had everything he could possibly hope for in the world; his childhood sweetheart, a somewhat steady income from his sensational photos of his alter ego, and an…interesting after-hours hobby of web swinging. Even the constant media pummeling and berating he had endured since the whole Green Goblin, Dr. Octopus, and Venom incidents couldn't kill his mood. He had never before considered how comforting it was to be able to complain to a sympathetic ear, especially when that ear was attached to the women of his dreams. When he was with MJ, everything in the world was OK. 

Shaking himself out of his trance, Spiderman stood straight and again focused on the city below that now lay in varying shades of reds, oranges, and pinks. Tinkering on the edge, Spidey paused before leaping off with a small whoop of joy. 'Let's just hope it's not a quiet night. I'm in the mood for some action,' he thought as he sprayed a strand of sticky web that anchored itself on the opposite building across the street and shot into the growing dusk of the city.

If only the wall-crawling hero knew those would be his famous last words…

"Now, Jonah, we've been friends for how many years? Since college at least?" said J. Jonah Jameson's dinner mate. Looking over his half eaten steak and baked potato dinner, the man regarded the Daily Bugle's editor in chief. The man's hazel eyes sparkled with youthful amusement although he was pushing into his late forties. 

The man in front of Jonah was in fact, Donald Collins, New York City mayoral candidate. Pushing his thin-rimmed glasses further onto the bridge of his nose, he waited for Jonah's reaction. 

Jonah pulled a tight smile on his face as he leaned back in his plush chair and began to chomp on his ever present cigar. It was clear that their friendly catch-up from their college days was over and was now turning to business. Nodding his head to indicate he agreed with Collins statement, Jonah waited for Collins to continue. 

"Well, besides wanting to see you again, Jonah, I need your help with the upcoming election," Collins began as he pushed his dinner plate away from him, " I was hoping to get some support from the Daily Bugle in way of boosting my popularity with the people. Plus, for your help, I have a story that will sell out ever copy of your paper."

"I kind of had the feeling you were going to ask for something like that," JJ mumbled to himself as he considered the proposal and ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair, "What kind of story do you have?"

"One that will blow the roof off this city-this country even!" Collins exclaimed in a hushed voice so as not to be overheard.

"Again I'm asking you for some details…" Jonah continued in his usual newsroom tone of authority. 

Smiling at his old friend's right-to-the-point attitude Collins whispered, "How much money do you think people would pay to buy your paper to read about the latest government corruption scandal? Let's just say it involves the selling of government intelligence to foreign organizations and black market nuclear and biological weapons."

Now totally interested, Jonah leaned closer over the table to hear Collins continue. 

"It appears that a certain government funded company is selling its information away to the highest bidders overseas. By the way it looks, it seems the Middle East is where the information and weapons are being sold to; mostly terrorist organizations and small revolutionist groups in Afghanistan, Iran, and Iraq."

"What kind of information is being sold?" Jonah inquired quickly to get more details. 

"Defense, military, and other highly classified information that some crazed radical could find useful in creating problems for the US."

"Who's the company that's doing all this illegal selling?" Jonah asked.

Giving a sly smirk of victory in seeing the editor's full attention in the matter, Collins said, "That's classified unless we have a deal. I want credit for doing all this snooping around I did to find this dirt out. And I know you want to be the first newspaper in the country to have coverage on this story before even the federal government finds out. So what do you say, Jonah?" 

Hesitating, Jonah weighed his options. This story could be the turning point for the Daily Bugle that its been needing for some time. He might finally be able to forget about headstrong punks in spandex that patrolled the city and in general, gave him a headache, and be able to turn his attention to government conspiracies and scandals. Just what a good newspaper should report to the public. It was almost too good to be true. 

But then there was always the danger involved. Whoever said reporting was a low-risk job was highly mistaken. Any crime boss that found out its little criminal activities were about to be plastered across the front page of a newspaper tended to take matters into his own hands. Jonah had already lost a few good reporters because of that. Still…it was too good of a story to pass up. Plus, it wasn't like there was much he had to do for the information either. He probably would have supported Collins in his campaign even without his sensational story. 

"Deal" 

With that the two men shook hand and stood to leave the ritzy uptown restaurant. As Collins and Jameson left the restaurant and headed down the street, they failed to notice the dark figure following close behind them.

Dusk was setting in the distance behind the ceiling to floor windows of the elaborate office building. The room was settling into darkness, save for a small table lamp the glowed in the corner of the room. The silence in the room was deafening except for the rhythmic tapping of a set of magnetic metal balls that sat forlornly on the edge of a large desk. Breaking the stillness of the room suddenly, a knock came from the door. 

Not waiting for an answer, the person entered the office and shut the door quietly behind him with a soft click. 

"Sir, we've just received a phone call from Harper saying he's begun phase 1 of the plan," said the tall well-dressed man in a dark blue business suit that had entered. Standing in front of the large oak desk that was probably worth the value of a small Latin American country, the man addressed his boss who was seated behind the immense expanse of polished wood. "Any more orders?"

"No," replied the man seated behind the desk, "Let's just hope Harper is able to carry out his orders without screwing up. I don't need some nosy mayor wannabe stretching my neck out on the federal government's cutting board just so he's able to win the election. Plus, I have too much money invested into this plan to let anyone mess with it now. Hopefully, by morning this will all be taken care of…"

Jonah, looked over his shoulder for the second time in the past block. Collins sensed his uneasiness and followed his gaze. 

"We're being followed, Donald. Don't try to look like you know he's there," Jonah said as he walked a bit faster. Although he would never admit to anyone out loud, the news editor was scared. He had been stalked once before early on in his career when he had been investigating a criminal money laundering scheme and had barely made it out alive. 'Barely' being the key word. 

"Are you sure we're being followed? Maybe he's just going the same way we are," Collins suggested as he sped up to catch up with Jameson's brisk pace. 

"I hope you use those brains of yours once when you get in office," Jonah growled under his breath. Glancing over his shoulder towards their pursuer, Jonah noticed a flash of light shining off something hidden in the man's coat; a gun. 

Becoming nervous, Jonah motioned for Collins to follow him towards a group of other people on the street in front of a large bank plaza. Situating themselves near the group of people waiting for the cross town bus, the two men glanced nervously at each other as the man neared them. 

"Act calm," rasped Jameson as the man stepped up behind them. 

"Nice move, I wouldn't have given you credit for finding a crowd. But then again, anyone clever enough to find out about my boss's business should be given some credit," the gunman said quietly just so they could hear him. Turning his tone more demanding, the gunman whispered, "You're to walk away slowly and calmly so no one notices us leave. Any sudden movements and I'll blast you."

"Wouldn't that kind of ruin your whole quietly-walk-away plan?" Jameson growled back to the unknown man. 

Taken aback for a minute at the older man's smart ass retort, the gunman suddenly thrust the tip of his gun into Jonah's back and hissed, "Get moving, old man."

Wincing from the gun embedded in his kidneys Jameson and Collins slowly began to walk away. As the three began their slow march down the sidewalk, a sudden shrill siren pierced the air. Turning, Jameson and Collins breathed a sigh of relief as a police car came to a halt inches from the sidewalk they stood on. 

*********

Spiderman swung deftly over the street below him and vaulted to the rooftop of the opposite building in one fluid motion. Leaping across the cars and pedestrians below, the wall crawler nimbly adhered to another building and skittered across the face of the building to its roof. 

Pausing to catch his breath, Spidey stood for the second time that evening to survey the city from above. 

"Nothing much tonight, is there?" he said to himself, somewhat disappointed. 

Suddenly from two blocks behind his present location, Spiderman heard the loud crack of gun shot. Whirling around to face the noise, he leap to the other side of the rooftop he stood on and looked down below to find the source of the disturbance. In the distance, he could hear the faint murmur of people screaming and shouting. Giving his hip a pat to reassure himself that the camera he always took with him on his nightly patrols was still there, Spiderman prepared to leave. 

"Here we go," he cried as he leap off into the abyss and free-falled before shooting out a strand of web and sped towards the noise. 

***********

"Damn it, I said get back or I'll shoot them!" screamed the gunman wildly as he waved his fire arm in the air and gestured frantically towards Jameson and Collins that stood with their backs plastered against the wall. Surrounding the men on three sides, circled a ring of police cars and about a dozen policemen that hide behind the open doors of their patrol cars with guns drawn. Behind the police stood a mass of on lookers.

"Put the weapon down and lay on the ground with your hands behind your head. This is your last chance," called one of the policemen over a loud speaker. 

Ignoring the threats, the gunman waved his gun again in front of the cornered men beside him. What was he doing? He had had everything under control until that blasted policeman drove up. Apparently the cop had needed directions somewhere. That was before he had noticed the gun…

Two minutes later, they were surrounded and he had had to take hostages. What was suppose to be a simple hit, had turned into a nightmare. To make matters worse, a local TV news station van was idling beside one of the squad cars complete with a reporter and cameraman shooting what he was sure to be 'breaking news.' Lights from the camera crew and patrol cars poured into the wide plaza the hostages and gunman stood, almost blinding them. 

"Any way of getting out of here alive?" whispered Collins to Jonah as they pressed their backs closer to the brick wall behind them, "I don't exactly want to be on the eleven o'clock news tonight with the headline: Mayoral Candidate Shot by Criminal Punk." 

"Do you ever shut up, Don?" Jonah hissed under his breath as the gunman began pacing close in front of them. The madman had already fired one warning shot to the police in the air, but Jonah doubted the man was going to waste any more bullets as only a warning.

"Where's that wannabe superhero Spiderman you keep plastering nasty things about on the front page of your paper?" Collins asked quietly, "He's the hero around these parts, isn't he?"

"That's what I'm wondering," Jonah growled. That masked freak could always be found whenever you didn't need him, and now that he was in actual need of the arachnid's services he was nowhere in sight. How typical. 

Just at that moment, there came a few scattered shouts of surprise and shock as a blur of red and blue flashed overhead of the onlookers and a mangled imitation of a Tarzan cry rang out through the plaza. 

Confused by the noise from the gathering crowd, the gunman turned just as a red boot came in contact with his jaw with a squishy thud. Reeling backwards from the blow, the gunman bounced on the pavement several times before coming to a stop in a heap about ten feet from where he had been standing just a moment before.

"I guess he wasn't expecting any company," came an all too familiar voice to Jameson's ears. Looking up from where he had dropped to the ground when his savior had literally swung in, Jonah glared dangerously towards the figure before him. 

"Spiderman…" Jonah snarled, venom dripping off every syllable. "I suppose you may have had a hand in this," he continued as he recovered from his initial shock and reverted to his typical slandering ways of somehow finding an angle to blame Spiderman. 

"I love you too, JJ," Spidey answered in a humorous tone, ignoring the familiar accusations. 

Reaching down to help the two men to their feet, Spiderman was suddenly stung by his spider-sense. Whirling around, Spidey saw the gunman rising to his feet. A tiny stream of blood trickled down his face from his nose where Spiderman's boot had pummeled into. 

Thirty feet behind him, police were hurrying towards the fallen man to jump and handcuff him. Spiderman could see the gun was still in his possession. Surveying the situation in a second, Spiderman accessed that the police would not reach the gunman in time. 

'Shoot. I should have made sure and webbed him down before turning my back on him,' the wall crawler chided himself harshly for his rashness of assuming the man had been knocked out. 

"I can't go back without finishing my orders!" screamed the gunman as he leveled his gun at Collins and Jameson. Without thinking, Spiderman leap to shield the two men from the gun's blast. 

"Watch out!" Spidey screamed as he forcefully shoved Jonah and Collins to the ground. Falling into a tangled heap, the two men cowered as a series of shots crashed through the air. Screams followed a second later from the crowd as everyone in the vicinity dropped to the ground to seek cover from any stray bullets. 

There was a moment of still silence then that covered the area like a blanket as the gunfire faded away into the night. Rising his head, Jonah saw three cops wrestling down the shooter and practically sitting on the writhing man as they slapped a pair of cuffs on his wrists. Beneath him, Jonah felt Collins shaking his head and pulling himself to his knees. Collins didn't seemed hurt at all. Checking himself over, Jonah gave a sigh of relief in finding that he too was unscathed. 

Turning his gaze now towards the crowd, he noticed a number of people who were beginning to stand back up standing mouths agape at the scene. 'Now there's something you don't see everyday…a New Yorker completely dumbstruck.'

It was then that he noticed the news crew that was staring in his direction. The cameraman's mouth was open to the elements even as he managed to keep the twenty pound camera hoisted aloft on his right shoulder and recording. The female reporter stood with her hand over her mouth as she kept her back to the running film and stood looking out into the plaza, eye wide in disbelief. Jonah noted a number of the same reactions mirrored in the rest of the crowd and surrounding police officers. 

'What's wrong with them? It's like they've never seen an attempted shooting before,' Jameson though in confusion. But then another thought struck him. Turning to look over his shoulder, the hardened editor stifled a gasp as his cigar slipped from between his lips and fell to the pavement. 

"Oh God," whispered Collins beside him as he followed Jonah's gaze.

Leaning far back against the wall behind him, Spiderman stood clutching his chest. Blood seeped between his gloved fingers to the ground in small puddles. A rattling groan came from behind his mask as the web swinger's knees buckled beneath him and slowly sunk to the ground, still grasping his chest and leaning against the brick work. On the wall, smeared a thick streak of blood along with a collage of spatters of other crimson droplets that marred the rough surface of the wall. 

Slumping into a heap on the pavement, Spiderman issued another moan, only this time more like a chocked back scream of pain. There was a moment of deafening silence before the area suddenly erupted into a roar of shouts. 

Jonah became disoriented as a pair of police officers suddenly rushed forward and helped them to their feet and his surroundings became chaotic. A small group of officers had begun to congregate around the fallen spider. One began shouting an alarm through his shoulder walkie talkie to his dispatcher, "We have a shooting at the United Federal Bank on the corner of 17th and Main. Paramedic assistance needed immediately. We have Spiderman down as a casualty. Repeat. Spiderman down. Ambulance assistance needed immediately." 

It was in that moment, as J. Jonah Jameson stood staring down at the fallen figured splayed out before him on the ground, he began to see the bleeding man before him in a different light. Not as the masked vigilantly he had always pasted on the headlines, but as a brave man willing to step in front of a bullet for another. 

"He saved us. He took the bullets," Collins muttered in disbelief as he was lead away by an officer, "Maybe you should put _that_ in tomorrow's paper." Jonah remained motionless as he watched the unfolding drama before his eyes. 

Spiderman stifled another gurgled scream of agony weakly as two of the officers began to apply pressure to bleeding bullet holes that had ripped through his lower chest and stomach and exited through his back. His vision was beginning to tunnel from the loss of blood and the most probable chance of internal damage. The background noise began to blend together as Spiderman felt his eyelids threatening to slide shut against his will. Convulsions of cold shook the wall crawlers debilitated body as the chill of the night began to cut through the thin spandex of his costume. 'Body's going into shock,' he thought to himself as his scientific mind took over and began to recall high school biology lessons of the human body.

'Can't black out…Can't black out," he chanted in his head to keep from falling unconscious. Trying to stay awake, the web swinger tried to focus his attention on the news crew that stood not far off where the reporter rapidly shot words at the camera and motioned over her shoulder in the direction of himself. Every now and then, he could pick out his name over the roar of the crowd that clustered behind a hasty blockade created by NY's finest. The place seemed utterly chaotic as a swarm of activity buzzed around him.

"Spiderman! Spiderman, can you hear me? I need you to talk to me. We can't see if you're still awake or not, so unless you want that mask of yours off, ya need to keep talking," coaxed a young officer with blond hair, "The ambulance is on its way. Just hold on." 

"I've never gotten this type of pampering before," Spiderman chocked out as his head was gently lifted up by another officer and placed on someone's bundled coat to make it more comfortable on the cold pavement, "Maybe I should do this more often."

"Always the smart-ass I see," responded the blond officer in a friendly tone. 

"Just trying to make things bearable through humor," Spidey rasped. He could taste the distinct metallic taste of blood in his mouth now. Amongst the bustling activity centered around him, Spiderman could smell the overwhelming stench of fresh gore that was seeping from his own body. From the recesses of his mind, past images of his Uncle Ben flashed before his eyes of when the old man had been laying on the ground just as Spiderman was now. Funny it seemed to the web swinger how things seemed to have come full circle.

"How bad is it?" Spiderman questioned in a gurgled whisper. 

"Oh…not that bad," replied the officer in his most convincing voice after a moment of hesitation. Despite his best efforts though, Spiderman knew the officer was lying between his teeth. Seeing that Spiderman was unconvinced, he added morbidly, "There're three bullet wounds. Two appear to have exited clean through the back and you're losing a lot of blood."

Spidey remained silent as he waited for the information to sink in. Somehow the old saying of 'play with fire long enough and you'll be sure to get burnt' rang true to him now. How many times did he make it out of a fight with his life…More then he could count, that was for sure. Maybe he had just run out of his nine lives- or however many lives a spider was suppose to have. 

In the distance, the howl of the ambulance began to draw nearer. Spiderman lay motionless as he caught glimpses of the crowd parting for the paramedic team that towed behind them a gurney loaded high with medical equipment. As the paramedics rushed towards Spidey, the officers that had been trying to keep the bleeding down moved obediently out of the way for the medical team. 

Kneeling beside the bleeding man, the one female paramedic quickly produced a pair of medical scissors from her bag and in one motion sliced Spiderman's shirt open from his neck to waist, exposing the deep holes in his chest and stomach. 

"Hey! These costumes don't grow on trees you know," Spidey muttered as the medic continued stripping the upper portion of his body free of his blood soaked clothing. Ignoring his comment, the second medic began unpacking a small mountain of plastic tubes and miscellaneous other tools of his trade as his partner deftly inserted an IV line the soft skin of Spiderman's hand. 

"I need to lift your mask away from your mouth, Spiderman," said the one medic as he grasped the lower portion of the red mask and waited for an acknowledgment from the wall crawler. Seeing the wall crawler hesitate he stated, "Don't worry. I'm not going to get paid for revealing your secret identity. I just get paid to make sure you don't die on me."

"If your going to be like that, then fine," Spidey replied weakly as his mask was slowly folded over the bridge of his nose and an oxygen mask fitted snugly over his mouth and nose. He knew the crowd and especially the news crew was focused in on his face now since it had been partially exposed. 

Oh, well its not like anyone can identify somebody just by their jaw line…or can they? What ever happened to his camera he had set up overlooking the plaza? There were probably some really good shots of him swinging in and knocking the gunman away. It would probably be awhile before he could retrieve it though…assuming he was going to live to worry about it. JJJ was probably going to blow a gasket for Peter not coming in with pictures of Spiderman finally being squashed like the bug he was, in Jonah's opinion. Shaking himself away from his meandering thoughts, Spidey realized it was not the proper time for such thoughts. 

As he felt the rush of air in the oxygen mask turn on, Spiderman felt his senses begin to go fuzzy. 'Come on, Spidey, keep it together," he thought desperately to himself conscious. Despite the buzzing activity around him, the world began to slow and dim around him. 

"Hey, come on bug, stay with me!" called the medic loudly as saw the sudden slack in muscle tone of his patient. Receiving no answer, the two medics looked at each other before simultaneously jumping into action. Working together as one, the two hoisted the limp body onto the gurney and strapped the unconscious superhero down. Holding the IV bag high over her patient, the paramedic shouted for a lane to be cleared as the two ran headlong into the throng of people towards the waiting ambulance. 

J. Jonah Jameson stood fixated in his spot as he watched emotionlessly the paramedics shove the stretcher into the back of the van, it's occupant bumping almost lifelessly aboard, as the medics slammed the door behind them after filing in after the gurney. As the ambulance pulled away from the curb and turned its sirens on, a small mob of people flowed into the street to watch as the vehicle sped away towards the hospital. 

A storm of thoughts thundered in Jameson's mind as he followed the van with his gaze as far as he could before it weaved quickly through traffic and sharply turned around a corner and out of sight. 

What had happened? Did he just imagine this whole thing? Jameson asked himself. Turning his attention back to the side of the plaza, the sight of drying blood spattered grotesquely on the wall and the smears of crimson littering the ground assured Jonah that had was not been a dream. Spiderman _had _saved him. He had stepped in front of the bullets aimed at the one man who had devoted the later portion of his life to destroying the web crawlers name.

For the first time in his life, Jameson felt a twinge of doubt and regret for what he had done and thought for sure he was right in doing. At that moment came a loud call, "Sir! Sir! Any comment for what just happened here?" It was the woman reporter with her cameraman in tow jogging towards him. 

Blinking back the bright light that shined in his face from the mounted light bulb on the camera, Jonah stifled a berating comment to the cameraman and faced the reporter who was shoving a microphone within inches of his face. "What are your reactions to Spiderman's actions tonight?" 

Pausing, Jonah tried to decide how to answer the question that had been festering in the recesses of his mind for some time. Finally deciding he answered in a level, curt voice, "Spiderman did the ultimate sacrifice of risking his life to save another. I am grateful for his unselfish decision." With that Jameson turned and stalked away, leaving the reporter staring at his back. His emotions clashing between loathing for now being indebted to the pesky insect and feelings of gratitude towards the wall crawler. 

Behind him, Jonah heard the reporter recover from his sudden departure and begin talking into the camera again to the newscasters seated halfway across town in the studio, "There you have it, Stacy. I have just been told, by authorities, that Spiderman has been taken to St. John's Hospital. We will have more on his condition and more comments from on-lookers in a minute…." Jonah didn't care to listen to the rest of the reporter's high voice ramble on anymore and moved away into the night.

************

Watching the TV on the far side of the room, the man sat in contemplation at the breaking news of the incident that had taken place across town. Blending into the shadows of the room, the boss' crony shifted his weight between his feet nervously. 

"Sir, do you want me to send out another hit-man to finish the job?" asked the man as he clenched and unclenched his hands nervously. 

Folding his hands to form a small platform with his fingers, the man rested his head on his fists as he broke his attention away from the TV screen, "No. Collins and that annoying newspaper editor will be too closely guarded now. It's a pity Harper failed, but he managed to make the night somewhat worthwhile. He may have inadvertently removed the one person that could cause me the most problems in the near future. It is a shame though that that damn spider had to go out in a blaze of heroics…I hoped to kill him myself in some back alley. But we can't all have what we want can we?" 

The other man gulped nervously, making his Adam's apple bob up and down on his throat. "Mr. Osborn, are there any other orders?" 

Turning his gaze to the jumpy man, Harry Osborn said, "Yes. Send out somebody to permanently silence Harper. I don't want him telling the police about my little business deals here. I have an important meeting tomorrow with some go-betweens with the Iran government and I don't want to be disturbed by any boys in blue."

"Yes Sir," the man replied as he turned to leave.

"Oh, and one more thing," Harry called after the man, " I also want you to send out another hit to finish off Spiderman. I have a special interest that he doesn't check out of that hospital…" 

To be continued……

Note from author: Hey if you liked the fanfic you just read, review! Please please please please! I love reviews! Thanks. Look for another chapter soon!

-LAXgirl


	2. Rude Awakenings

Hi again! Wow! Thanks for all the reviews! Keep it up! But I must say there are some pretty tough critics out there. But that's good! Constructive criticism can be an empowering thing. On that note, I just wanted to point out a few things…

1. I spell Spiderman instead of Spider-man just because I'm just to lazy to put in the hyphen! 

2. The two types of indents for the paragraphs came around because I wrote the first chapter on two different writing programs and didn't realize the difference until it was posted on the site. Hopefully that won't happen again…

3. My grammar and spelling have always been a problem. I couldn't spell to save my life! And even spell checking doesn't manage to catch all my mistakes. And you should hear my English teacher nit pick about my grammar…oh, what an ear full! But then again, that's just the way I write…

4. For the story, I have Spidey with his organic web shooting abilities like in the movie. Sorry, but the whole mechanical web shooter thing doesn't appeal to me.

Well that's all I can think of for now. Enjoy the very very…very long chapter! Don't get spoiled, this is a fluke. Usually I'm very busy and don't this long a chapter up. Enjoy!

Note: I don't own any Spiderman characters although I wish I did! Don't sue, please! I don't have enough money to cover even the lawyers bill! 

********************

MJ paced the kitchen floor restlessly, her shoes giving off a tiny squeak every time she turned to retrace her steps. Finding that pacing was not help, she flopped down into a nearby chair and began to drum the tabletop. 

'Where's Peter?' Her stomach cringed at the nagging feeling that something bad had happened to him. He had promised to be back sometime before eleven that night but it was already edging on twelve thirty. 

Looking to the counter top, MJ eyed the boxes of take out Chinese food that sat uneaten there. Frowning, the red head stood and stalked over to them. Picking up the box of pork low mien, she tested its temperature and again frowned. She had bought the food to surprise Peter when he got back from his night of crime fighting, and so the two of them could spend some time together. 

"Oh well. Mr. superhero can heat his up whenever he decides to show," MJ muttered as she placed Peter's portion in the refrigerator. Grabbing her own, she padded out into the living room. 

Falling onto the couch, MJ reached for the remote control and flicked on the TV set before ripping her General Tso's chicken open. Shoveling a mouthful of the spicy meat in her mouth, she began flipping through the channels aimlessly. 

'I guess I can't be too mad at him being late,' MJ reasoned as she flipped through the channels slowly to waste time, 'It's not like crime fighting has any set hours. But why can't I get over the feeling that something bad happened?' 

Shrugging her shoulders helplessly and flipping her shoulder length red hair behind her ears, Mary Jane decided to flip to the twelve o'clock news to see if there was any news about Spiderman's activities for the night. "At least I can get an idea of what his excuse for being late will be…" she said to herself as she waited for the commercials to finish. 

Finally the news station's jingle sounded from the TV screen followed by a full head shot of the anchorman's face framed by the blue backdrop of the set. _"We return now with late breaking coverage of the United Federal Bank shooting that occurred earlier this evening. For those of you just joining us, an attempted homicide was stopped tonight by the heroic efforts of Spiderman." _

MJ smiled as she took another bite of chicken and waited for the newscaster to continue. 'Just like Peter to find trouble and have to step in…'

_"Unfortunately, the police were unable to subdue the shooter before he managed to fire off a number of shots, critically wounding Spiderman in the process, who had jumped into the path of the bullets that were aimed at mayoral candidate, Donald Collins, and editor of the Daily Bugle, J. Jonah Jameson."_

Mary Jane felt her blood run cold. Grabbing the remote, she slammed her finger on the volume control as the newscaster went on, turning the volume up just to below a roar. "Oh God," she moaned as she sat on the edge of the couch and leaned closer to the screen, trying to remain calm.

_"On the scene at the time of the shooting was our camera crew, headed by WPXI newscaster, Christy Rice. In our possession is the only known footage of the shooting. The images we are about to show you are graphic."_

The TV screen went dark as the image suddenly changed from that to a distant view of what looked to be a large plaza. In the distance stood two men pressed against the far wall of the area while another darkly clad man paced restlessly in the foreground, waving something in the air. Suddenly there came a blur from the upper right corner of the screen. MJ instantly recognized the blue and red suit as being that of Spiderman. There was a flurry of action that was partially blocked by some bystanders that MJ couldn't make out. Then there was a series of sharp pops from somewhere out of the camera's range that was followed by multiple shouts nearer to the recording film crew. 

There was then a break in the crowd as the people dropped to the ground. MJ's stomach knotted together in nausea at the scene that followed. Laying in a heap of blood across the view of the plaza, lay a bundle of limbs. Mary Jane stifled a gasp at the sight as police swarmed forward around the fallen body, again blocking the view. The TV screen then turned back to the close profile of the newscaster as he continued. 

_"Spiderman was taken shortly after being wounded to the St. John Hospital in lower Manhattan. There was little comment from doctors there as to his condition at the moment when our news team arrived at the hospital. Spiderman, we were told, was taken immediately into surgery. We now turn you over to Christy Rice on the scene outside of St. John's Hospital…" _

_"Thanks, Eric. We are outside of St. John's Hospital waiting for more news on the city's web swinging hero. We are told that Spiderman has suffered three bullet wounds to the chest and abdomen. Doctors are reluctant to give any predictions as to his recovery at this time. We are waiting for more news from the hospital's spokesman shortly…" _said the brunette reporter on the screen as the scene suddenly changed from that of the news station to that of a sidewalk view of the white exterior of the downtown hospital in the background. 

Not waiting for any more, MJ sprang to her feet and hastily discarded her food on the coffee table and ran for the door. Snatching her coat from the peg and purse from the end table, Mary Jane bolted out the door. "Oh god, please don't let me be too late," she prayed as she bounded down the stairs of the apartment building two at a time, not waiting for the elevator, "Just please don't let him die…"

Bursting out onto the sidewalk, MJ almost ran out into on-coming traffic to hail down a taxi cab. Jumping into the cab that glided up to her, she practically screamed at the driver, "Take me to the St. John's Hospital as quick as you can!" 

***************** 

A gray light slowly began to filter into the dark room from the single large window. Outside the sky say overcast with ominous clouds threatening rain. A still silence permeated the room as its only occupant inside began to stir. Breaking the silence, a rhythmic beeping ticked off the heartbeats of its patient. Various tubes and machines stemmed off from the body that lay in an immense hospital bed in the shadows of the room. 

Clouded in a fog of painkillers and strong sedatives, Spiderman struggled to wake despite the lethargic condition of his body. Breaking through the heaviness of chemical induced sleep, came an echoing sound, bringing Spiderman to rouse himself out of the darkness. 

__

Beep

'What is that noise?'

__

Beep

'Where am I?' 

__

Beep

Dragging his eyelids up, Spidey's blinked back the misty fog of drowsiness that clouded his vision. Fighting the urge to allow his eyes to fall shut, the feeling of disorientation overwhelmed his senses, as the room seemed to spin around him. After a minute, the room began to settle down and Spiderman looked around at his surroundings. 

The machines continued to beep and hum, slightly annoying the wall crawler as he struggled to sit up in the bed. Pulling his arms beneath him, Spiderman stifled a moan as his body exploded in pain from his movements and his head swum from vertigo. Unable to summon the strength to sit, Spidey collapsed back to the pillow and panted in exhaustion. 

His body felt like he had been hit head on by a semi truck. A dull ache radiated through his body as Spiderman pulled his limbs close to his body in a vain attempt to block out the pain and rolled onto his side. 

Across his chest and stomach spanned a huge bandage that wrapped itself clear around to his spine. Still in a haze, Spiderman gently touched the gauze uncomprehendingly. 

'What's this…?' Touching the center of his body with an exploring hand, Spidey writhed as a searing pain shot through his body. As the pain subsided under the painkillers once more, the events of the previous night slowly came back to the wall crawler. 

"How am I going to get out of this mess," Spidey muttered in self-pity as he rested his throbbing head on the cool cover of the pillow, facing the far wall of the room. 

As he lay listening to the hypnotic whirls of the machines around him, a sudden tingle at the base of his skull jolted the web swinger out of his daze. His spider-sense tingling, he rolled onto his other side carefully to face the open door of the hospital room. Ignoring the pain that crashed over him, Spidey propped himself on an elbow and waited for the unknown danger to present itself. 

A second later, a darkened silhouette filled the doorway. Spiderman prepared himself as the figure stepped into the room towards him. As the unknown person stepping up beside the bed, Spidey's muscles tensed in anticipation of a fight. 

Bending over the side railing of the bed, the person's face came into view. The young face of a dark haired nurse smiled softly down at him. "So sleeping beauty decided to finally wake up," she smiled sweetly. 

Suddenly aware he hadn't checked to make sure his mask was still on to hide his identity, Spiderman immediately shot a hand to his face. A wave of relief flooded over him to find his mask intact over his head. But then another thought made his stomach clench in fear. Had the doctors left his mask on while he had been out? There was no way to tell for sure. He could only pray that the doctors hadn't taken advantage of him. The red mask remained shoved up above his nose to allow for an oxygen tube to sit between his nostrils and wrap around behind his ears, but it otherwise still hid his face. 

Reaching up carefully so as not to cause any unnecessary pain, Spiderman yanked the piece of cloth down to cover the exposed part of his face quickly and tore the oxygen tube from his nose and discarded it on the mattress. Squirming upright to address the newcomer, Spidey winced under his face covering as he was met with failure and slumped back down. 

"Don't worry," the nurse soothed as she placed a hand on the wall crawler's bare shoulder to calm him before he hurt himself further, "The doctors here are honest people. No one took off you mask while you were sedated." Half her words ran together and made no sense to the arachnid as he fought with his own body to stay conscious. But the few words he caught and the soothing tone of the nurse, helped ease Spidey's momentary panic. 

Striding up to the IV line the young nurse, dressed in brightly colored scrubs and holding an armful of charts and papers, began to check the fluid level in the bag suspended off the ground by a tall metal stand. 

"Where am I?" Spidey asked in a raspy voice, his throat burning with thirst. 

"St. John's Hospital," replied the nurse in a pleasant voice, "I'm actually surprised you're awake already. Most people don't wake up from the anesthesia for a couple more hours. In fact, there's a group of doctors that are very curious about you. Your recovery rate so far has been astounding! Any normal person probably wouldn't be alive after what happened to you. A couple of ER doctors are especially interested in you after seeing your wrists when they were prepping you for surgery." 

Leaning over the railing again, the nurse gently touched the raised area of skin on the underside of Spiderman's exposed wrists. "Sorry. But if you don't mind my asking, does it hurt when that web stuff comes out?" she asked curiously with a hint of embarrassment. 

"No," came a tired reply as he pulled his arm closer to his body protectively. Not that he meant to be rude, but Spiderman didn't appreciate the feeling of being like he was under a microscope to be poked and prodded as if he some curious science experiment. Nodding her head in understanding, the nurse continued her check over her patient. 

Unwinding the stethoscope from around her thin neck, she pressed the medical instrument against the wall crawler's bare chest to check his heartbeat. According to Spiderman's charts, the ER doctors had almost lost him twice when he had flat-lined and they had had to shock the arachnid to jumpstart his heart. But as she continued to listen to the steady beating on the other end of her stethoscope, she felt a wave of relief that the superhero now seemed stable. Ever since he had come out of surgery she had been regularly checking in on him every ten minutes or so. 

"What time is it?" Spiderman asked groggily, still not completely awake, as she removed the cold circle of metal from his naked chest. 

"About five o' clock," she answered simply while she turned to press miscellaneous buttons on one of the various machines hooked to the wounded superhero, causing some of the mechanical banter to die down. 

"In the morning?" he slurred. 

"Oh, no! It's five at night, honey. You've been out for almost a whole day," she exclaimed almost in shock at Spiderman's ignorance, "You were in surgery for a good six and a half hours."

"What!?" he squealed. He had no idea it was so late. Aunt May was probably having an episode right now, not to mention MJ. He was supposed to meet her last night before being rudely sidetracked. Jameson had also probably thrown a temper tantrum that morning in the Daily Bugle newsroom for having no pictures in hand from Peter Parker. Speaking of JJJ…whatever happened to him and that other guy from the previous night? Spiderman had lost track of the editor somewhere between being gunned down and realizing he had been shot as he lay in his own blood on the pavement. 

A twinge of anger stirred in the wall crawler's chest as he thought of the salty newspaper editor. No doubt blaming Spidey himself for his attempted assassination. No matter that he had saved the man's life, but Jameson was probably littering the front page with how disrespectful and unruly Spiderman was when it came to the law. 

Breaking through his thoughts, the nurse stated cheerfully, oblivious to Spidey's inner turmoil, "I think there's something you'd like to see"

Walking across the room, the nurse reached above her head to the TV set mounted on the wall and flipped to the five o' clock news. There on the screen, crowded a multitude of two hundred people or more in front of what looked to be a hospital. 

Spidey could make out a few hand-painted posters in brightly colored paint sticking out of the crowd reading such phrases as "Get well soon, Spiderman", "NYC misses you", and "No one can squish our spider!"

In shock, Spidey lay silently as he watched the reporter on screen talk in rapid syllables of the turn out of well wishers to the hospital in support of the fallen superhero. 

"They've been out there since this morning," explained the nurse as she stood beside Spidey's bed again, "The hospital's been flooded with letters, flowers, and everything else imaginable since you came in. Plus we've been getting nonstop phone calls from almost every TV station imaginable, local and national, and newspapers demanding information on your condition."

Shaking his head in disbelief, Spidey remained speechless as he continued watching the reporter interview the mass of people. Half the time, the majority of the city was out to crucify him…and now this! They were literally holding a twenty-four hour vigil outside the hospital, just for him. What happened?

Before Spiderman could utter a word, there came a sudden outburst of shouts from down the hallway. It sounded as if a small group of people were coming towards him while simultaneously arguing with each other quite loudly. 

As the voices drew nearer, Spidey could make out a very distinct and authoritive voice drowning the others out. "I don't care if he's sleeping right now or not! I don't even care if he's in a coma! I'm going in to see that troublemaker of a spider-- I don't care! Go ahead and _try _to arrest me!"

"Speak of the devil…" Spider mumbled behind his mask as the voice came to a stop in front of his room. That kind of yelling could only be produced with such intensity by one person…J. Jonah Jameson. 

"Is he in here?" demanded Jameson as his body filled the doorway. The hallway's lights cast a dark shadow around the edges of the editor's frame, giving the editor a somewhat frightening appearance. Behind him followed a pair of uniformed officers.

Spiderman couldn't help but think how even after fighting all the super villains he had in his somewhat short career as a crime fighter thus far, he had never been intimidated so much now as by his alter ego's boss.

Spotting the arachnid amongst the sterile white sheets of the single bed of the room, Jameson stalked into the room in a direct path towards Spidey. Too weak and tired to put up a fight, Spidey lay in wait for what was sure to be the verbal berating of his life from Jameson. 

"Sir," started the nurse suddenly as she stepped between Jameson and Spiderman, "my patient is under strict orders not to be disturbed by any visitors. I don't know how you got here, but if you'll kindly follow those officers there-"

"I will not 'kindly' do anything," Jameson roared as he stared down the petite nurse, "I have business with the bug, and I'm not leaving until I talk to him!"

Ignoring Jonah's ranting; one of the officers, the portlier of the pair, stepped forward and said, "Sir, this is a restricted area. Only authorized medical staff has permission to see Spiderman--"

"Whose permission?" shouted Jameson, now red in the face, "What's with all this security anyway?"

"This area of the hospital has been sectioned off totally because of security reasons for Spiderman's safety while he's here," answered the second officer patiently, "Now if you'll come with me…" 

"I already told you I'm not leaving till I talk with that infuriating wall crawler!" Jameson bellowed as he thrust an accusing finger in Spiderman's direction who was laying quietly on the sidelines watching the drama unfold. 

"Sir, if you don't come with us now, we will be forced to arrest you for trespassing," threatened the first officer, now reaching the ends of his ropes with the disgruntled editor. 

"What kind of people are my hard earned tax dollars going to?" Jonah screamed as he turned to now stare down the officer. 

Spiderman now decided that before there was an incident, he should speak up. Gathering his strength, he shouted out as loud as he could over the arguing men that filled the room, "Hey!"

Stopping their shouting match, the others turned to regard Spiderman for the first time since entering. Seeing his chance, Spidey said placental, "It's OK, guys. He can stay. It's alright with me. Plus you'd have one hell of a time dragging ol' Jameson out of here even if you handcuffed and hogtied him."

Looking at each other, the officers exchanged glances before turning in a huff towards the door, obviously perturbed they hadn't arrested Jameson when they had had the chance. 

"You've got five minutes," stated the chubby officer curtly as the two left the room; keys and guns jingling around their waists. 

"I'll be at the nurse's station. If you need anything, just ring the buzzer," the nurse said as she headed for the door. 

"Turning his attention back from the retreating officers to the wounded man laying helpless before him, Jonah's nerves began to falter. Outside the far window of the room, fat raindrops began to slowly thud every now and then against the thick glass. 

Looking down at the web swinger, Jonah became further unnerved as Spiderman lay in silence waiting for the editor to speak. Huffing a defeated sigh, Jameson stalked towards the nearby chair that was situated beside Spiderman's bedside. Sitting slowly in the chair, Jonah leaned back uncomfortably as Spiderman's shimmering white eyepieces followed his every move, unblinking. 'What I wouldn't give to see behind that thing,' Jonah thought with a growl.

"So you wanted to talk to me…," Spidey began, cutting the silence, "Is this your way of conversation or do I have to use hand signals?"

"I don't need your smart talk right now, bug," Jameson barked back instinctively, "I came to tell you something." Again Jonah took on the appearance of someone at a loss and fell silent. 

Staring transfixed at the huge bandage covering Spiderman's midsection, Jonah became acutely aware of the rhythmic dripping of the IV drip over the sound of the rain crashing harder now on the window. Through the gauze of the bandage, Jonah noticed five distinct quarter-sized spots of muted brown standing sharply against the cold whiteness. 

'Damn you and your heroics,' he cursed in his mind as he again felt the unblinking, blank stare of the spider's mask. 

Breaking out of his trance, Jameson grasped for words before finally sputtering just above a whisper, "I…I just…I wanted to…just…thank you for…saving my life."

Taken aback, Spidey stifled a small laugh that began to threaten to rock his debilitated body. "What's so funny, bug?" growled the aging editor dangerously, almost half out of his chair. 

"Nothing!" Spidey spat out hastily to save himself a confrontation with the one man who could possibly stare down the Green Goblin himself, "I just never thought I'd see the day when _you'd _thank _me_!"

"Yeah, well, don't expect this too often. This little incident hasn't changed anything between us!" Jonah snarled in an attempt to regain his pride.

"Whatever…" Spidey smiled tiredly, too weak to think up a quick comeback. 

Sitting back into the uncomfortable hospital chair, Jameson suddenly questioned, "Why did you save me? I mean, after all the problem's I've caused you?"

Taking the older man in with a sideways glance, Spiderman groped for a suitable answer. He had never really thought about it before. Why _did _he save Jameson and risk his neck every night patrolling the city? "Because it was the right thing to do," he finally responded. 

"I kind of thought you were going to give me some crappy answer like that," Jameson hissed. A moment of silence passed between the two rivals as the rain quickened outside and the machines continued to beep off Spiderman's vitals tirelessly. 

Suddenly, in the near distance, a muffled scream broke the air followed by a hollow thump. Sitting straight, Jameson growled under his breath, "Now what are those half-wit cops doing?"

Not answering, Spiderman struggled to sit up. Bracing himself on wobbly arms, he steadied his swaying body while willing his head to stop spinning. Then, out of nowhere, came an insistent hum from the base of his skull. Almost knocked on his back by the ESP bullet through his brain, Spidey thought, 'Oh no. Spider-sense. Can't be good…"

Down the hallway sounded a set of heavy footsteps. As the sound neared, the tingling sensation began to intensify. Something was wrong. He could feel it.

"Jameson, get behind the curtain. Now!" directed Spiderman as he motioned at the white divider positioned in the center of the hospital room. Unsure of what was happening, but taking no chances, Jonah leap behind the plastic curtain and hid. 

Hearing the slow footsteps nearing the door, Spidey lowered himself quickly to the mattress. Rolling his head to the side, he lay motionless and pretended to be asleep. Luckily the one sided transparency of his eyepieces allowed Spiderman to lay eyes open without fear of the intruding person seeing. 

Slowly a head appeared in the doorway. There seemed to be a moment of hesitation from the intruder as he appeared to evaluate if Spiderman was really unconscious. Finally deciding to make his move, the stranger stepped into the dim room. 

Coming to stand at the foot of the bed, the man reached inside his jacket. As his hand returned, Spidey knew without a doubt what the man was holding. From his line of work, the wall crawler quickly recognized the outline of a semiautomatic pistol capped off with a rather bulky silencer tip. As the man leveled the weapon square at the arachnid's head, Spidey sprang to life. 

In one motion, Spiderman shot up as his upturned hand snapped back and a thick stream of webbing exploded from inside his wrists. Caught off guard, the man dropped the weapon with a loud clatter and tried to dive for the door to escape the sticky white substance. Too quick even in his current condition for his would be assassin, Spiderman caught him mid stride and pushed the man against the far wall by the intensity of the blast. Keeping a steady stream, Spiderman quickly covered the man from head to toe in a giant web, leaving only his eyes and nose exposed. Muffled curses resonated from behind the spider's organic gag. 

Catching his breath, Spidey clutched his stomach weakly as pain exploded through his body. "Oh, damn…" he muttered under the blinding white pain. 

Coming out from his hiding spot, Jameson glanced first at the struggling but trapped man against the wall then to half buried semiautomatic gun covered in webbing on the floor. A moan of agony brought Jameson to look towards the wounded wall crawler. Rushing to the bedside, Jonah stood helpless as Spiderman collapsed down half conscious to the bed. In the distance, the editor could hear a muffled shout from down the hall, "Yo, Mike! Everything alright? Did ya pop the spider yet? Let's get out of here before anymore guards come."

"Shit," Jameson cursed to himself. Now what? Hit-men are coming and the bug obviously can't fight. What do I do? They've already killed those worthless cops and they probably won't hesitate to take me out either. 

For a moment Jameson was struck by the idea of just running for his life and leaving the arachnid to fend for himself. But glancing at the weakened form laying before him, he knew he morally couldn't leave the web swinger to be killed in cold blood. Especially not after the bug had saved his life the previous night. 

Leaning over the railing, Jameson hurriedly ripped the multiple electrode patches placed strategically over Spiderman's bare chest and heart while also undoing the small tube connecting the wall crawler intravenously to the bag of clear fluids that hung above his head. 

"Come on, we have to get out of here," Jonah coaxed roughly as he pulled the bandaged man to the edge of the bed. Stripping his trench coat from his body, the editor swung the clothing over Spiderman's body; which was covered only in a pair of hospital scrub pants, the bandage around his midsection, and the wall crawler's only remnant of his costume, his mask. 

Hoisting the limp body up, Jameson swung the arachnid's arm over his shoulder and half carried, half dragged Spiderman to the door. Glancing down the length of the hallway, Jonah saw no sign of the man who had called out earlier. 

Not waiting, Jonah hurriedly trudged down the hallway in the opposite direction the voice had previously come from. Rounding a corner, the editor caught the faint footsteps of heavy boots on tiled floor coming towards the direction of Spiderman's hospital room. As the unlikely pair continued into the maze of corridors, Jonah heard a sudden shout of surprise and a flurry of other cries. Following that came the distant stampede of feet from the room into the hallway. 

Picking up the pace, Jameson snarled at the fact that Spiderman had blacked out and was now totally dead weight. Suddenly in the distance, a bay of brightly painted red elevators came into view. Racing for them as fast as he could drag the wall crawler, Jonah heard the gut retching sound of thundering footsteps somewhere close behind him. 

Not looking back, Jonah rushed for the elevators. The footsteps sounded nearer. Reaching the first one, Jameson slammed his finger onto the call button and repeatedly tapped the button mercilessly as the numbers above the door slowly began to dink and light as the car lifted away from the ground floor six levels below them. 

'Ding' '2nd floor'

"Come on…"

"Hey, I think I hear something this way!"

'Ding' '4th floor'

"Hurry up…."

"Look they're this way! By the elevators! Hurry before they get away!"

'Ding' '6th floor'

"Open open open, you piece of junk!"

"Shoot them, they're getting away!"

'Ding'

As Jameson dove into the small elevator car with his cargo in tow, a series of gun blasts pierced the air as bullets whined by his ears. Lashing out to hit the 'close' button, Jameson felt plaster and wall shower onto his head as the bullets impacted the wall behind him. 

Finally with an another annoying and overly chipper 'ding', the doors slid shut as Jameson saw the last glimpses of the attackers between the closing doors of the car. Heaving a sigh, Jonah hit the B button to take him to the basement parking garage. Looks like it was now personally up to him that he actually repay Spiderman for saving his life; by now saving his. 

"Let's just hope I'm doing the right thing," he muttered to the unconscious form beside him. From above, the elevator continued to beep off every floor.

***********

The words began to blur together as MJ paged restlessly through the magazine that was propped in her lap. Finding no escape for her anxiety, she tossed the months old magazine onto of a stack of others strewn carelessly on a nearby end table. Heaving a frustrated sigh, Mary Jane crossed her legs and glanced at the TV mounted in the corner of the spotlessly white waiting room of St. John's Hospital. 

Around the red headed woman sat a multitude of other people; many being reporters and camera crews of local news stations and papers awaiting updates of the hospital's resident superhero's condition. Others waited patiently for news of their loved ones. Only MJ could realize the irony of her being part of both groups. 

Glancing at her watch for the millionth time that day, MJ stifled a yawn. She had been there in the waiting room since two that morning and it was now well past five thirty at night. Despite her fledging celebrity status as fashion model and Spiderman's own speculated girlfriend (thanks to the little Brooklyn Bridge incident…) she had been denighed access to see the wounded wall crawler after hearing of him being wheeled out of surgery hours earlier. 

After several attempts, MJ finally realized that no amount of teary eyes or sob stories were going to get her in to see Peter. 

On the TV screen above her played a rerun of 'Friends.' Finding no distraction for her worried mind, Mary Jane stood and trudged out of the waiting room tiredly. Shuffling her feet from lack of sleep, MJ made her way to the vending machines just outside in the hall in search of caffeine and sugar. 

"I'm going to have bags under my eyes the size of Manhattan when this is over with," she muttered under her breath as she produced two quarters from her purse and plunked them into the coffee machine. 

Pressing the button for French Vanilla, MJ stared transfixidly through the clear plastic shutter of the machine as an empty Styrofoam cup dropped from above and a sputtering stream of black liquid began to fill it. 

'I wonder how Peter's doing,' she thought as she grabbed her cup of coffee and sipped it without tasting the stale, bitter liquid, 'It's been awhile since that annoying hospital spokesman has given any more updates. I just hope he's OK."

Taking another sip of her lukewarm coffee, MJ wrinkled her face as she snapped out of her trance and became aware of the bitterness attacking her mouth. Chucking the undrunk portion of her coffee into a nearby trashcan, MJ turned to walk back to the waiting room. 

Taking two steps, she stopped and reconsidered, 'There's nothing I can do but sit and read magazines. And I've been doing that all day. I'll walk around and stretch my legs a little. Then I'll go back and see if there's anymore news on Peter. It's not like he's going anywhere anyway…"

Turning a bend that lead in the opposite direction of the waiting room, MJ walked slowly as she glanced at the decorative landscape paintings adorning the otherwise colorless hallway. Her sandals tapped noisily on the cold tiles as she strided by a large bank of windows looking out onto the sea of buildings laid out before her. Pausing in her aimless travels, Mary Jane turned her wandering attention to the falling drizzle that had been showering the city on and off the whole day. 'What a beautiful day,' she frowned to herself sarcastically. The weather seemed to be a manifestation of MJ's mood and only managed to depress her further. 

Hanging her head, the young model started back towards the waiting room. Rubbing her drowsy eyes sluggishly, MJ thought miserably, 'I'll wait around another hour or so. If there's no news on Peter by then, I'll have to go home and get some sleep then come back in the morning.'

Continuing on her way, thoughts flowed through MJ's mind, 'It's kind of weird having so many people here worried about Spiderman when the rest of the time they couldn't give a damn. It makes me mad that Peter had to get shot before anybody saw what a hero he really is. Even that jerk, Jameson, wrote a decent article for once on Spiderman this morning. What a shocker that was…I swear there's at least one reporter from every news station in the tri-state area. Hopefully after this, Peter won't have to be made into Swiss cheese before getting some positive PR. I wonder if I could get one of those nurses up there to see how the poor guy's doing. Then maybe I can go home and get some sleep without spending half the night worrying…'

Completing her lap around the floor, MJ spotted a small group of nurses talking amongst themselves in the confines of their nurse's station. At first MJ assumed it was friendly small talk and gossip between some off duty nurses, but as the red head neared she could detect an air of tension around them. 

"-Yeah, and the whole sixth floor's swarming with cops right now. The hospital director, Mr. Hender, let them in the back way so the cops wouldn't upset the medic out front until they know for sure what happened."

Curious, MJ pretended to ponder the selection of pop inside a nearby soda machine by the nurse's station while the nurses continued on oblivious to the eves-dropper. 

"Rumor's going around that two guards were shot," said the nurse as her news was met with gasps of surprise and murmurs from the others, "Yeah, and get this. Spiderman's missing too. On one can find him. There were bullet holes all through the hallways up there" Motioning upward with a finger she continued on in a hushed voice, "Cindy saw it herself. The place is a zoo up there. I heard some cops talking and they said it looks like some guys tried to sneak into the hospital and take out Spiderman. They said they managed to arrest one of the guys. He was stuck to the wall by some of that webbing Spiderman always uses."

For the second time that day, Mary Jane felt a knot grow in her stomach from fear for Peter. 

"The cops don't know how, but they think the hit-men got in by sneaking around the security and somehow finding out where Spiderman was."

Breaking in, an older Chinese nurse questioned, "But why would they try to assassinate Spiderman when there're all these people and media around?"

"I heard one of the cops say they think the hit-men were able to get in and out by getting lost in the crowd. You know how hard it is trying to keep things straight around here with all these extra people around," the narrating nurse answered curtly for being interrupted, "But anyway, the bug's missing and the police can't find him or the other gunmen. I think they're going over some surveillance tapes now. In any case, if Spiderman did get away, he couldn't have gotten far. Not in the condition he's in."

MJ stood motionless for a minute before bolting for the nearest exit. If all that was true, then Peter may need her help. He may have returned to the apartment or be trying to call her. Praying that Peter was safe, MJ hailed frantically for a cab as she rushed out onto the sidewalk, now clear of people due to the rain falling heavily from above.

***************

"Now, Mr. Kathal, let's get down to business. I'm curious as to how much my company is going to be paid for its services so far to your endeavor," Harry Osborn said as he placed his half drunk glass of scotch on the table before him. 

Across from the young CEO of Oscorp, sat Muhammad Kathal. The older middle eastern man smiled beneath his bushy mustache at Harry's business like attitude. He always admired a man who could take charge. Leaning back in his plush executive chair., Kathal answered in a friendly yet serious tone in perfect English, almost completely void of any accent, "Yes, Mr. Osborn. I think that would be an excellent idea. The sooner we finalize the money arrangements, the sooner we can put our plans in action."

Nodding in agreement Harry sat straight in his chair as his client continued on. 

"Because of you invaluable research and technology given to my organization, we are prepared to pay you two hundred million dollars," Kathal said as he smoothed his slicked back hair from his face. Opening his mouth to go on, Kathal paused as he noticed a frown spread across Osborn's face. 

"Is there something wrong, Mr. Osborn?" he asked.

Leaning forward over the shiny surface of the table, Harry leveled his eyes at Kathal and folded his hands before his face, creating an intimidating aura around himself. "It's just that two hundred million dollars doesn't seem much when you're about to hold America hostage for one hundred billion dollars, does it?" Harry whispered in a level tone that could have almost come across as threatening, "In addition to the already agreed upon two hundred million, I want a cut of forty billion dollars."

Shocked at the statement, Kathal stuttered, "Mr. Osborn, that was never spoke of in our initial agreement." Nervously shifting in his expensive business suit, the middle easterner squirmed under Harry's relentless gaze. 

"Well, Mr. Kathal. You have two options. One; you pay me the money I'm asking for and you get your weapons that are still technically in my possession. Or two; you don't pay up and get nothing. It's up to you," Harry stated plainly as his nonchalantly picked up his glass and downed the rest of his drink in one swallow. 

Harry revealed at Kathal's facial expression as the man's eyebrows knotted together and his bushy black mustache twisted over a visible frown. A moment of silence passed through the office as its two occupants stared down each other. A low rumble of thunder sounded overhead as raindrops pelted the large bay of windows overlooking the sprawling metropolis below. 

Sighing in defeat, Kathal muttered, "Fine, Mr. Osborn. 40.2 billion it is."

Breaking into a broad smile of victory, Harry leaned back into his chair as Kathal shifted the conversation away from money. "How soon will the bombs be ready for transport?" 

"They can be ready for you tonight, at your convenience," Harry answered, "The six weapons are housed in my warehouse on the docks. I have men already there ready to help load the cargo for transportation to their final destinations."

Again Kathal ran his hand through his hair. Harry began to suspect it was a nervous habit of the man's. "What is your guarantee that the bombs will not go off during transportation?"

"Minimal," the young Osborn answered, "The weapons have been wired so the only way they can be detonated is by remote-satellite control or by hand. The protective casing around the devices are also very sound."

Cracking a small smile, Kathal eased back in his chair to mimic Harry. "That's good to hear. It would be terrible for those things to go off before properly placed to cause the most damage."

"Yes, I'm sure it would be. At least a hundred mile radius would be infected by the bomb's virus. No one within that distance would live long to tell about it," Harry trailed off apathetically. 

"Good," Kathal said as he stood to leave, "I will go make the final arrangements before the ultimatum is given." Shaking hands with Harry, who also stood to see Kathal out, the middle easterner man strolled out of the room. 

Watching the door close with a soft click behind him, Harry stared at the door. Breaking himself back into reality, the young man glanced at his glass sitting forlornly on the table where tiny beads of water had begun to condense on the surface of the glass. Picking it up, Harry twirled the cup until the melting ice cubes at the bottom began to spin in a circle while the clicking of glass and ice filled the room. 

Stopping the motion, Harry stalked towards the alcohol cabinet on the opposite side of the room. Reaching in, Harry produced an expensive crystal decanter filled with a golden brown liquid, and poured himself another glass. Taking a small sip of the alcohol, the young man turned towards the far bank of windows. 

Strolling towards them, Harry looked out over the waterlogged city as the rain continued to cascade from above like a waterfall from heaven. Contemplating the jungle of concrete below, the young man pondered the future. 

'How much longer does this city have?' he wondered with a tug of a frown on his face. 

For some reason the thought of the city's possible end caused no remorse in the boy's heart. What had anybody in this retched city done for him? Nothing, that's what. Only bad memories remained, causing him pain. His lost love Mary Jane and his falling out with his only friend, Peter Parker, still remained an open wound. Not to mention the fledging love affair that had been taking place practically right under his nose. He still vividly remembered walking in on the two in the hospital when Peter's aunt had been there after being attacked by the Green Goblin. They had acted all innocent when he had walked in, but he had seen them; holding hands and a second away from swapping saliva.

But the worst of all remained the death of his father, Norman Osborn. Just when they were starting to become closer, Spiderman had to murder him. The loss had created a void in Harry's heart he doubted would ever be filled. But he would have his revenge…

Growing depressed as the clouds darkened overhead, Harry turned back to his desk. Sitting down, he swallowed the rest of his drink uncaringly. Feeling the cool liquid taking effect on him, Harry again glanced outside. Not much longer now, he thought…

************

"Come on, bug," growled J. Jonah Jameson at the superhero who weighed heavily on his shoulder as the editor helped Spiderman walk down the empty hallway of a large apartment building. 

"Bite me," Spiderman said almost in a whisper too low for Jameson to actually hear. The pain in his chest was blinding and the editor's constant berating was grinding on the wall crawler's last nerve. One could only tolerate Jameson for so long. Plus exhaustion now clawed mercilessly on Spidey's body making him unnaturally irritable. 

Struggling to keep up to Jameson, Spiderman's mind wandered to thoughts of blissful sleep and his own bed back at his apartment. As Jonah kept up his brisk pace, Spiderman's last strength finally gave out as his knees buckled beneath him. Stumbling, the only thing that kept the web swinger from falling face first on the floor was the irate editor who growled under his breath as he hefted Spidey to his feet again. 

"Where are we?" Spidey asked as he chocked back the stabbing pain welling up within him from the short tumble. 

Snorting, Jameson suddenly stopped in front of one of the many door in the hall and pulled out a key from his pockets with his free hand. "My apartment," he said as he unlocked the door and kicked it open. Pulling Spiderman quickly with him inside, Jameson slammed the door behind them with a swift kick. 

"What?" the web swinger squeaked groggily, thinking he had hallucinated what he had just heard from blood loss. 

"I said my apartment, web head. The hospital's obviously not safe for you in your condition. I couldn't think of anywhere else to take you for now," Jameson stated as he hauled Spiderman to a large couch that served as one of the only pieces of furniture in the apartment. 

Positioning the wounded superhero by the edge of the couch, Jonah lowered Spiderman slowly down until the wall crawler slid off his shoulder and collapsed into the overly stuffed cushions. A stifled gasp escaped from behind the red mask as Spidey clasped his hands over the bandage on his abdomen. Jameson's insides twisted as he noticed fresh spots of red seeping through the white gauze and guiltily recalled how the web swinger had obtained his wounds. 

Shaking the thoughts from his head, he stooped to examine the wounds. "It looks like a couple of the bullet holes opened up again when you pasted that guy to the wall. We're going to have to get you to a doctor soon, but this time keep it a little more discrete," Jonah said gruffly as he swatted Spidey's hands from his stomach, "You saw what happened last time with those incompetent police officers…"

"What's with you helping me all of a sudden? The last time I checked, I was still number one on your personal public enemies list. What happened?" Spidey asked utterly confused by Jameson's sudden concern for his welfare. 

"I owe you, insect. That's it. And when you're back to normal, nothing's going to have changed. I'm still out to prove to the public that you're not all you make yourself out to be. Got it?" Jameson snarled dangerously. 

Standing, Jonah vanished into the adjacent kitchen. "You want some coffee?" he barked from within. 

"No thanks," Spiderman called back as loudly as he could, "I don't think my stomach could handle it right now." Getting no audible response from his alter-ego's boss, Spiderman surveyed his surroundings. 

The room stood for the most part bare with only the bare necessities filling the room. A small thirteen inch TV stood in the far corner of the room while facing it stood only a leather armchair and the plush couch Spidey currently lay on. A curtain less window overlooked the street below, letting in a gray muted light in outside. 

A few other items were thrown about the apartment in what Spiderman assumed was Jameson's attempt at interior decoration. The distinct stench of cigar smoke lingered in the air, making Spiderman stifle a sneeze. All in all, the room resembled that of a cloistered monk; fitting Jonah perfectly, Spidey thought with an ironic smirk. 

"You know a few potted plants and maybe a few paintings on the wall, and it could pass for cozy," Spiderman quipped as Jameson reentered the room with a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. 

"You never stop, do you?" he snarled as he fell into the leather armchair. Grabbing the TV remote from the nearby end table, Jameson flipped on the TV screen. 

"So are we going to watch a movie? Maybe pop some popcorn? How about a comedy?" Spidey called out sleepily, unable to pass up the chance to poke fun at the grouchy older man. 

Glaring out of the corner of his eye at his guest, Jameson ignored the outburst and flipped to FOX NEWS with a snarl. He was beginning to question if he had been clinically sane when he had decided to offer the vigilantly arachnid safe haven. 

"OK…news is good. Whatever you want, JJ. Can't get behind on world events now, can we?" the wall crawler smiled behind his mask. A sting of irate mumbles came as a response as the editor cranked up the volume on the set and shoved a fresh cigar into his mouth without bothering to light it. 

Taking advantage of Jonah's 'hospitality,' Spiderman nestled deeper into the cushions of the couch. The low roar of the TV became muddled as darkness crept over the web swinger. The searing agony of his wounds began to dull as Spidey's eyes slowly slid shut and sleep took him. 

***

A rough hand shook his body violently, bringing Spiderman back to consciousness. Startling awake, Spidey drug his heavy eyelids up to reveal Jameson's angry snarl glaring back at his through his transparent eyepieces. 

"Wake up, bug. You need to see this."

"What…Who?" stuttered the superhero as his head swum with sleep and his body rebelled at the jerky movements rattling his weakened body awake. Disoriented, the wall crawler struggled to remember where he was. 

"Hurry up and look at the TV," ordered Jonah ordered gruffly. 

Rolling his head in the direction of the television set, Spiderman's gaze was met with a darkened screen with a lone figure filling the frame. The face and features of the person were undistinguishable with the darkness, but the basic outline of the man was visible by a single light casting a shadow from behind. 

_"We have six biological bombs hidden within six of the major cities of the United States. These include New York City, Washington DC, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Dallas and Miami. If our demands are not met, we will detonate the bombs."_

"We are demanding payment of 100 billion dollars from the United States federal government to be delivered to a secure location that will revealed at a later time. If our demands are not met we will release the worst biological virus to ever descend upon this planet."

"The virus contained in these bombs are capable of decimating an entire population within two to three hours of infection. The virus is airborne and highly contagious. This virus will make Ebola look like the common cold in comparison. Victims will be stricken with hemorrhaging of the internal organs, leading to uncontrolled bleeding from every opening of the body. Before death, the victim is attacked by massive seizures and total respiratory shut down…It is not a pleasant sight and very painful, I assure you…"

"The US government has forty-eight hours from now until we expect payment. Again, if our demands are not met, then we will be forced to take drastic action. I highly suggest to every citizen in this country to call you local government official and demand that your tax dollars be turned over to this cause. Otherwise…well, you know."

With that, the transmission ended and was replaced by the newscaster who began recapping the threat to the audience. 

"What are you planning on doing?" Jameson suddenly demanded, turning sharply on the wounded man. 

Pausing, Spiderman groped for an answer. Coming up short, he answered weakly, "I don't know."

"Well that's just great!" Jonah shouted as he threw his hands in the air angrily, "What's the point of having a superhero around when he can't save the city?!" Scowling, the editor stalked towards the door, "I need to get to the newsroom."

"Hey!" Spiderman called suddenly after the retreating man. As Jonah paused in the doorway, Spidey said flatly, "I won't be here when you get back."

"Good. Because I was going to tell you to be out of here by morning. I don't need some free loading pest building a web in my apartment," he growled back at the man sprawled across his couch.

Turning to go, Jameson paused again on the threshold as he heard a low voice resonate from the depths of his apartment. "By the way, thanks for saving my life earlier. We're even now."

Grunting a response, the man disappeared into the hallway, slamming the door behind him. Spiderman turned his attention back to the TV where the newscaster continued pleading with his audience not to panic. 

Still feeling weak, but feeling a surge of rejuvenation by the impending threat, Spiderman reached for the nearby telephone placed within reach of the injured man. Ripping his sweat drenched Spiderman mask from his face, Peter Parker punched in the phone number of his only source of help. 

"Pick up. Pick up," Peter chanted pleadingly as he waited for an answer. Counting the rings till the answering machine was suppose to kick in, he became worried there may be no one home. Suddenly there was a click on the other end. 

"Hello? This is Mary Jane," came a quick, tension strained voice. Peter thought he could sense a hint of hopefulness in her voice for whatever reason. 

"MJ, it's Peter," he began in a weak voice, "I need your help…"

To be continued…..

Next time: Spiderman confronts Donald Collins, mayoral candidate, on the inside scoop of the threat against the city.

Don't forget to review….pretty please? 

-LAXgirl 


	3. Uncovered Conspiracies

__

"As President Bush decides a course of action for the threat posed against the United States of America, the American people can only sit by and wait. The US government is currently releasing no information as to how it plans to handle the situation. Since the September eleventh attack on the Pentagon and World Trade Centers and with the war on terrorism abroad, the US has felt a pinch in government spending. Economic experts are split in speculations of the US's ability to pay the $100,000,000,000 ransom."

"Special forces have been dispatched in the cities targeted for the biological attack by the government in attempts to find the bombs before they will are detonated. As of now, they have had no success of finding the bombs positioned to destroy six of the largest cities in America. The largest evacuations in the history of the world are now taking place in these cities including our own New York City. Hundreds of thousands of people have clogged the roads leading out of the city, trying to seek refuge elsewhere from the deadly virus said to be housed in the biological bombs…"

Peter watched the newscaster continue as helicopter shots of the major roadways stemming from New York, jammed bumper to bumper with thousands of car, played over the man's shoulder. He had woken up only minutes before from a fitful sleep to find the TV turned to a local news station. Stretching his legs out, he winced as the movement sent a twinge of pain through his bandaged stomach. 

Ignoring the now dulled pain, courtesy of half a bottle of painkillers, he let his feet dangle over the armrest of the couch to ease his cramped leg muscles. 'Maybe it's time to buy a more comfortable couch…' he thought to himself with a frown. Despite the uncomfortable arrangements, Peter was happy to be in his own apartment. Although he would have preferred his bed, the couch had been the only answer since he had been too weak to climb the stairs to his bedroom, even with MJ's help, when they had first returned. 

Mary Jane had rushed to Jameson's apartment within fifteen minutes of Peter calling her. How she had made it across town in that time still baffled Peter. When he had staggered to the door of Jameson's apartment, he had been confronted by MJ's tear streaked face. It had taken a few minutes to finally convince the girl he was, for the most part, alright. They had managed to leave the apartment building unnoticed and had returned to Peter's. The young photographer frowned deeper as he remembered how he had almost passed out from exhaustion in the cab further upsetting the already troubled girl. 

From behind him, he felt MJ lean over the back of the couch. "You feeling better, Tiger?" she asked in a worried voice as she placed the back of her hand against Peter's forehead tenderly, as if checking for a fever. He could tell she was concerned about him, making him smile at her sign of affection. 

"A little. I think I needed sleep more then anything," Peter answered quietly as the young model walked around the couch as sat on the floor by the couch beside his head.

Eye level now with the wounded man, MJ stared at Peter for a long moment. He did look somewhat better then from before. When she had first saw him, bandaged and a complexion that looked like someone had walked up to Peter and dumped a pail of white paint on him, she thought she had been seeing a ghost. Only after touching him did she finally believe the object of her affections was still alive. 

She had to give Peter's spider-powers credit, she had no doubt that had he been just a normal man he would not have survived the shooting. But then again, if it wasn't for his powers he wouldn't have been swinging down as Spiderman to step in the line of fire… 

Breaking out of her thoughts, MJ noticed Peter again staring intently at the TV screen past her. Glancing over her shoulder, the red head listened in on the newscaster's report. 

_"Government officials are now investigating allegations of the ones responsible for these threats against America that have recently been reported to the US government by New York mayoral candidate, Donald Collins. Collins was recently targeted by a hired hit-man to be assassinated for his investigation into the selling of highly classified information and technology to hostile, foreign governments by government funded companies. Collin's assassination attempt was stopped, however, by the heroic intervention of Spiderman yesterday."_

"Unfortunately, the city's web swinger was gunned down by the hit-man when Spiderman threw himself in the path of the bullets. Spiderman was immediately taken to a nearby hospital where he underwent over six and a half hours of surgery to repair the damage done by the near fatal bullet wounds. The gunman was apprehended by local authorities and was taken to be questioned, but was found dead this morning in his cell in the city jail, shot several times in the head. Police are disclosing no further information as to the murder of the man now identified as Richard Harper…"

Peter's head snapped up at those words. Murdered? Things were becoming more and more complex as things went on. This Collins must really have known some inside dirt…

_"Police are also investigating the possible murder of Spiderman that took place earlier this evening in St. John's Hospital. Two police officers put on watch over the wounded superhero were killed in the attack. It is uncertain right now if Spiderman managed to escape or was killed or taken alive by the hit-men. One man was arrested and taken into custody after being found on the scene, trapped against a wall in what appeared to be the webbing used by Spiderman. The rest of the gunmen, suspected to have accompanied, him managed to escape capture by the police by apparently becoming lost in the crowd that had gathered in front hospital after receiving news of the web swinger's injuries. Police are investigating the situation but have released no information whether Spiderman is alive or not."_

"Many people are now questioning if the city will escape the impending threat on our fair city with the disappearance if its local superhero. Some fear that Spiderman is dead. But even if Spiderman escaped the assassination attempt on his life, his assistance may not be much help in this threat against America…"  
The news station's logo followed before the station switched to commercials.Grabbing the remote, Mary Jane lowered the volume on the set. Returning her attention to the man laying on the couch beside her, MJ saw the look in Peter's eyes she had feared she would see.It was the hardened gaze that meant only one thing: Spiderman. 

__

"Don't even think about it," MJ commanded as she stood up from the floor and placed her hands on her hips, "You are in no condition to do _anything._ You'll only get yourself killed. What would you even do anyway?"

"MJ," Peter started slowly in a level tone, "I can't just sit here while some psycho holds the US for ransom and kills millions of people. The feds aren't going to be able to stop them in time. Those terrorists will be expecting them. But they probably won't be expecting your friendly neighborhood Spiderman to sneak in, especially since the rumors going around that I'm dead. I may be the only one that can stop them. I have to at least try." 

The conviction in his voice was moving, but had little effect on MJ who was, by now, immune to Peter's heroic speeches. 

Somehow the whole scene was amusing to MJ despite being totally frustrating at the same time. Here was a guy who had almost died in a near fatal assassination attempt--twice--and as he's laying on his back, too weak to even stand, he has the temerity to say he can save the country. She was beginning to wonder if Peter's powers hadn't somehow messed with his brain and made him lose all logic to his own limitations. 

"Peter…" MJ said exasperated as she knelt beside him and looked the man straight in the eyes, "You need to get to a hospital. Those wounds of yours are very serious. Let the police and the FBI deal with this one. I think you're a little out of your league. Plus, there's always the possibility the government will just pay up and there won't be any more bomb threats."

"That's until the next psychopath comes along wanting to blow up the world…" Peter pointed out stubbornly.

Not deterred, she wrapped her arms around Peter's neck tightly, beginning to feel frustrated tears stinging her eyes as her emotions began to get the better of her. Whispering in a chocked sob she said, "If you go out there the way you are as Spiderman, you're going to get yourself killed. You're just too weak right now to do anything about this. I don't want to lose you or see you get hurt worse." 

"Mary Jane, don't," he ordered gently as he twined a free arm around her waist and hugged back, "I plan on coming back alive. I promise."

"One of these days, you may not keep your promise," she muttered, distraught, into his shoulder, careful to keep away from the bandage around his stomach. She had seen Peter return multiple times from his nightly outings covered with bruises and cuts, a few times with broken ribs. But now he had been shot. How much longer could Peter outrun the laws of mathematics? Sooner or later, the odds would turn against him. 

__

Pushing MJ back to look into her face, Peter smiled softly, "Come on. You shouldn't frown so much. It'll put wrinkles in your forehead." Cracking into a reluctant smile, MJ wiped the tears from her eyes and chuckled. 

'Leave it to Pete to make me laugh when I should be mad at him,' she thought. That was one of the things she liked most about him; Peter's uncanny ability to make a wise crack in the most tense of moments.

"What are you planning on doing, Tiger?" MJ asked in a taut voice. 

Laying back on the pillow propped under his head, Peter contemplated the ceiling before answering, "I think I'm going to pay a visit to Mr. Collins…" 

*********

A steady drizzle showered down on the city of New York as thunder slowly rumbled in the black sky hanging low overhead. There was an unusual silence permeating through the damp, humid air. Usually thriving with the bustle of thousands of people and cars, New York lay in a subdued quiet. The once pulsating metropolis had been abandoned by much of its population. The threat of biological terrorism had turned one of the largest cities in the world into a ghost town. 

Had an adventurous citizen, unable or unwilling to escape the city, decided to stroll through the abandoned streets under the glare of streetlights on the pavement, he might have caught the once inaudible soft 'thwip' of webbing against concrete over the steady patter of rain overhead and the following 'whoosh' of air whipping around a shadow clad figure. Had there been such a soul, an upturned head might have rewarded the curious bystander with the glimpse of a blue and red blur swinging fifty feet above the ground, seemingly defying gravity. 

But there wasn't such a person then who was so ready to travel the empty streets. What few people were left in the hollow maze of concrete had holed up in their homes to silently wait for the outcome of the impending threat. Whether they believed they would live to see the day after next or not was uncertain. 

Blending into then peeling away from the inky darkness that blanketed the puddled streets below, Spiderman slowly made his way into the concrete jungle. His movements were short and sluggish, his arms never fully extending from his body and his legs remained tightly tucked under him as he threw another line of web from his wrist and dropped the other. 

Rounding the corner of the street, Spiderman held tight on the web line as his weight pulled against the end of the thread and shot him in a wide arc on top of the building's roof. Landing silently in a crouch on the parapet of the roof, twenty stories above the ground, Spiderman stood motionless as he waited for the searing pain in his abdomen to die down. Web swinging was not the most comfortable mode of transportation at the moment. 

Hanging his head tiredly, Spidey clutched his stomach as the pain began to throb away gradually. His washboard stomach rested under multiple layers of ace bandages, slightly distorting his natural streamline form and giving the wall crawler a bulkier appearance. Luckily, his suit was water repellant or his bandage would have been soaked through from the downpour that had struck during his trip over. 

'Maybe MJ was right about me being too weak to go out,' Spidey thought miserably in self pity for his condition. What should have been a ten minutes of web swinging to get to the apartment building he currently stood on had taken him over thirty, exhausting him in the process. 

But taking a deep breath to regain his senses, Spiderman knew that he had to be there. It would have went against everything he stood for if he had just laid back and admitted defeat while passively letting the ones behind the threats against New York and the rest of America do whatever they wanted and possibly kill thousands of innocent people. He just couldn't do it. It was his responsibility to stop them. 

Tipping over the edge slowly and carefully, Spidey gripped his fingertips onto the grimy brick surface and lowered himself face first towards the ground. Instead of falling, he easily adhered to the building and army crawled vertically down the wall. Moving his arms and legs in a rhythmical motion, perfected with time and practice that kept at least two limbs connected to the surface at one time, Spiderman slipped down the wall, weaving himself in and out of the shadows that played across the building. 

Moving towards the center of the building, Spidey skittered towards the row of windows he believed belonged to Donald Collins' apartment. Crawling cautiously above the first window he came to, Spiderman lowered his head slowly down to look inside. 

Detecting no movement from inside the darkened room, Spiderman grasped the bottom of the window and hoisted the glass pane upward with a strained grunt. Slipping down through the opened window, Spiderman landed on the plush carpeting of the room with a soggy squish from his rain soaked boots. 

Letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, Spidey saw that he stood in what appeared to be a spacious office den. Large oak bookshelves lined two of the rooms wall, filled with thick, leather bound books. Sitting along the far right of the room, stood a large wooden desk topped high with stacks of documents and folders, bulging with papers. Amongst the controlled chaos of Collins' desk sat a compact, top of the line computer. 

Striding over to the mess of paperwork, Spidey rifted through the first few layers of papers. Spiderman quickly assessed that tidiness was not high on Collins list of attributes. Quickly scanning the papers he sifted through in the darkness, Spiderman searched for anything that seemed to mention any terrorist activities or government conspiracies. 

"Damn. There's nothing here but campaign ledgers and other useless papers. It's probably all in the computer if its anywhere in here," Spidey muttered to himself as he placed the documents back in order the way he had found them on top of the desk. But before he could move towards the PC, there suddenly sounded from the other side of the door leading out of the room, the muffled thuds of footsteps. Coming to a stop before the office door, there came a sharp click as the doorknob turned and the door swung open an inch, letting spill into the room a shaft of light from the hallway. 

Leaping to the wall, Spidey scrambled as fast as his wounded stomach would allow up to the ceiling of the office. Holding himself tightly against the ceiling, he waited to see who would enter. 

Stepping into the threshold of the room, the stranger reached a hand to the side wall where a soft tap was heard and the room exploded into light. Blinking back the sudden assault of brightness on eyes, Spiderman saw the unmistakable features of Donald Collins. The man was tall and well built, like that of an athlete almost, but distinguished in his appearance. Even past his prime, Collins would be considered handsome by many women. 

'Probably why he's so popular…' Spidey ventured as he speculated the man's high popularity pole. But from his vantage point, Spidey stifled a smile of irony as he spotted the slightly balding circle of hair high atop the man head which many people would probably never notice. 

Oblivious to his ceiling hugging guest, Collins walked slowly over to his desk and flopped tiredly into the chair positioned in front of it. Heaving a frustrated sigh, Collins dropped his head to hang over the back of the chair as he closed his eyes and slumped in his seat. 

Seeing this as his moment for his signature surprise entrance, Spidey cleared his throat loudly. 

Jumping out of his chair with a start, Collins whipped his head from side to side frantically as he searched the room for his unseen intruder. 

"Who's there?" Collins cried as he stood fixated to one spot and circled 360 degrees around the room, visibly sweating in panic. "I…I can have the police here in…in…really soon if you try to do anything to me! They're right outside this building watching in case anything happens to me! So don't try anything because you're not going to get away with it!" he added in a false voice of fearlessness. 

Spiderman felt a twinge of guilt for bringing the man to such a panic. The poor guy was probably on edge for fear of his life. No doubt thinking it was some hit-man out to silence him forever for his findings. Still…Spidey couldn't help find amusement in how no one ever has the foresight to look up. 

"You know, being this jumpy probably isn't that good for your blood pressure. Maybe you need a vacation," Spidey stated in a affable voice as he dropped from the ceiling from a single thread of webbing and dangled upside down before the frightened man. 

"Spiderman!" Collins stuttered in a mixture of surprise and relief as he recognized the white eyepieces against the scarlet cloth of the wall crawler's mask. 

"The one and only," the arachnid answered as his body swayed slightly side to side in the air as Collins stared at the superhero in complete shock. 

"You're alive! But I thought you were dead! That's what all the news stations are saying. They said you were probably killed in the hospital. How did you get out?" the man said, still recovering from his initial shock. 

"I had a little help from Jonah Jameson, if you can believe that. Ask him about it sometime. It's a dozy of a story," the web slinger answered. There was a change of emotions on Collins face at the mention of his friend's name. Forgetting his panic, Collins became serious. He hadn't forgotten what the wall crawler had done for him. Stepping closer to the man hanging upside down from his ceiling, Collins squinted his eyes at Spiderman's stomach skeptically. 

"I thought you were shot," he stated in confusion. How could the man before him be hanging from his ceiling yet have, not even a day before, been shot five times? 

"I heal fast," Spiderman replied hurriedly, not wanting to go into great explanation. Despite the assurance he had just given Collins, his bandaged stomach throbbed painfully, reminding the wall crawler he was in fact no where near being completely healed. 

Collins noted the strained tone of Spiderman's voice as being that of a man in concealed pain. Regarding the web swinger in heightened esteem for venturing out in his condition, Collins said, "I never got the chance to thank you. I would be dead right now if it wasn't for you. Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Spidey smiled under his mask. Although he wouldn't admit it, it felt good to be thanked for risking his life. It was one of the few and far between perks of his after hours hobby. But there were more important matters. Turning serious he said, "But I didn't come here for you to thank me. I need some information. Specifically on the company selling technology and information to these terrorist groups and any other info that could be useful in stopping these guys."

"Right. It's the least I can do for you," Collins declared as he turned to his desk and switched on the computer screen. Flipping himself upright, Spiderman alighted from his strand of webbing and landed noiselessly on the carpeted floor of the office. Coming up behind the older man, Spiderman looked over Collin's shoulder. On the computer screen flashed a series of windows that Collins clicked through deftly and punched in a series of passwords. 

'Good thing I didn't try to look for this stuff myself,' Spidey thought to himself, 'I would have never found it.'

Coming to a particular screen, Collins stopped and swiveled in his chair to allow Spiderman a better view of the window. Filling the screen was a long list of numbers and numerous letter codes. 

"So…what exactly am I looking at?" Spiderman asked in confusion.

"This is the banking transactions of a certain New York based, government funded company. I assume you've heard of Oscorp Industries?" Collins asked impartially as he scrolled down the long list of numbers. 

"Unfortunately I do," Spidey muttered under his breath, not liking where this was heading. The thought of his old friend, Harry Osborn, being possibly involved in illegal acts didn't sit right with Peter Parker beneath his Spiderman costume. 

"Well, over the past few months, Oscorp has been receiving more revenue then otherwise expected. Its bringing in over twenty million dollars more then what the federal government is funding the company with for military technology and development. Under normal circumstances this wouldn't be such a big deal except that it has underwent no expansions of the company and hasn't been able to produce any hard money trails to reputable sources for its sudden gain of income. Rather suspicious, don't you think?" Collins asked rhetorically as he leaned back in his chair while Spiderman scanned over the numbers on the screen. 

Skeptical, Spiderman questioned, "So you're telling me you have no other evidence then a large Swiss bank account for Oscorp? They could have gotten that money multiple other ways then by selling information to foreign terrorist groups. Don't you have any other hard evidence?" 

"That's just what the CIA asked me too. But there's more," Collins said as he closed the one window and opened another. Filling the screen came the schematics of what appeared to be a missile or torpedo of some type.

"What's this?" Spidey asked as he bent to closer examine the technical plans of whatever he was looking at. 

"Those would be the plans for a highly destructive nuclear bomb Oscorp has developed recently. It could literally level a hundred mile radius from wherever it's detonated," came the mayoral candidate's matter-of-fact response. 

"But isn't that what Oscorp's paid to do? It's funded by the government to develop things like this," Spiderman stated from his secondhand knowledge of Oscorp's business from Harry. 

"Not when Oscorp has kept this technology closed to the US government," Collins said simply as Spiderman's head turned towards him, interested. Continuing with the arachnid's full attention, "This particular design is suspiciously similar to what would be necessary to spread a virus the way the terrorists said they were able to. On top of that, Oscorp is also known to dabble in genetic and biological research."

"But you just said these were the designs for a nuclear weapon," Spidey stated, still a little confused as he pointed a gloved finger to the blue prints on the screen.

"That's the kicker of this weapon," Collins said as he scrolled to a particular section of the schematics, "See here. The basic principle of it can be applied to multiple tasks. It can be rigged with explosives or be used to disperse a deadly virus with a large blast, just like what they're threatening to do if the government doesn't pay the ransom."

"I have to say I'm impressed," Spidey admitted as he nodded his head in appreciation for Collins' digging around, "The only thing I don't understand is why the FBI isn't looking into Oscorp and investigating this."

"Oh they are. Don't think for a minute they're not, what with all these biological bombs littered across the US. Only thing is, Oscorp and all its higher ups are very good at covering up their tracks. With all their high paid lawyers and the legal red tape, it'll take weeks before the FBI will be able get in and check into the company's records. But by then, six of America's largest cities will be infected by this virus or the perpetrators of this whole thing will have disappeared with their money. And it'll be almost certain that Oscorp will have completely covered up their tracks by that time," Collins sighed in exasperation at the hopelessness of the situation. 

Feeling he had gotten a good start, Spiderman asked, "Think I can have a print out of this? It may come in handy later."

"Sure," he said as he pointed the mouse to the print button in the corner of the screen. As the paper slowly slid through the boxy machine, Collins glanced at the masked superhero out of the corner of his eye. "You're planning on going after these guys, aren't you?"

Only bobbing his scarlet shrouded head slightly, Spidey grabbed the printouts, folded them into a small square, and tucked it safely inside his suit. Leaping to the wall beside the window he had entered through, Spiderman paused as he hoisted the window open. 

"You know, you would have made a great detective," Spidey called over to Collins who was still seated in his desk chair, "Once this thing blows over, instead of running for mayor you may want to consider going into a new career with government intelligence."

Breaking into a broad smile, Collins laughed back, "I'll keep that in mind, except I've been told that when the words 'government' and 'intelligence' are used in the same sentence, it's considered an oxymoron."

Unable to help himself from liking the guy, Spiderman smiled under his mask, "I think I've heard that somewhere too. But as much as I'd love to stay and talk, I have to be running." 

Nodding his understandings, Collins called out to the retreating form by the window, "Thanks again for saving my life. I'll always be here if you need my help. Just swing by and ask." 

Receiving a final mock half-salute from Spiderman as acknowledgment, Collins watched as the wall crawler slipped through the window and into the rainy night. Standing up and crossing the floor to the window, Collins stared out into the wet, inky blackness. Leaning his head out into the chilly air, Collins strained his neck for signs of his wall crawling guest. 

Seeing nothing of the web swinger, Collins slowly brought his head back inside and pulled the heavy windowpane down. Standing in silence, the man listened to the rhythmic tapping of rain on the glass as he glanced back at the computer screen still projecting the schematics of the weapon he had shown Spiderman earlier. 

"For everyone's sake, I hope you pull this off," he muttered to the long-gone superhero. 

Swinging through the rain, blocks away from the apartment building, Spiderman was lost in thought and torn between his emotions. Could Harry really be involved in this fiasco? It was very probable that Oscorp was the one behind the assisted terrorist activities, Collins had dispelled any real doubt of that, but was Harry really involved? It was hard for him to believe that his old friend could be possible of such things. 

"Well, no matter what, I need to check out Oscorp," Spidey muttered under his skin tight mask. Continuing on through the rain though, Spiderman felt his body rebel against the idea of investigating the company that night. His stomach and back felt like one giant open wound and his vision felt fuzzy from exhaustion. 

But he couldn't go back to his apartment, no matter how nice of an idea it sounded. There was only a little more then a day left before the terrorists expected payment, leaving the web swinger little time to save the day. He couldn't stop now, not with the information Collins had just given him. Still, he knew he couldn't keep up the whole I'm-totally-fine act for much longer. He was going to need food and sleep soon or he was going to collapse.

"I'll take a look into Oscorp, and then I'll go to bed," he grumbled to himself in the form of placating his weary body with the knowledge he would soon rest. Shooting over the abnormally quiet streets of New York, Spiderman sped as fast as he could to the far west side of town where Oscorp Industries' main research and office complex stood. 

To be continued…

Hey people, Spiderman should hopefully be appearing in another chapter in the near future, so keep a look out for it. 

Signing out

-LAXgirl


	4. Captured

Hi again. Got another chapter for you. Probably the only good thing that came out of fanfic.net's website problems has been me having almost unlimited time to write this. No pressure now! Don't forget to review and chew me out if need be or tell how great of a writer I am…(yeah right!) J 

Disclaimer: I don't own Spiderman or any Spiderman characters so *raspberry* to all you legal types out there! 

Rainfall pattered heavily down from the dark, early morning sky around the scowling faces of stone monsters and beasts. Eternally cursed to snarl menacingly out towards the rolling gray clouds that mercilessly poured water onto their stony hides, the carved gargoyles of the Osborn estate remained unaware of the darkened figure of a man, scurrying across their domain of precarious ledges and battlements that would snatch a soul away with the simple slip of the foot. 

But the blank stares of the concrete monsters beheld the amazing sight of the figure hugging the wall as if the stranger was one with the structure, taunting gravity to try to pull him to the ground a hundred feet below. Heaving himself to the rooftop with considerable strain, Spiderman huddled tightly against one of the stony gargoyles in search of shelter from the drenching rain. 

"Hey there," Spidey greeted tiredly to the concrete monster beside him with a turn of his scarlet head, "Now don't try getting fresh with me, I already have a girlfriend." Receiving no answer from behind the gnashing teeth of the beast, Spidey looked down to the street far below him. 

There in front of the building, sat the hazy outline of a black stretched limo idling lazily in the rain. With no sign of movement from below, Spidey pulled himself tighter into his crouch to better utilize the scant protection the gothic decoration of Harry's penthouse mansion provided. Sighing weakly, Spidey pressed his hand tenderly against his heavily wrapped stomach as thunder rolled overhead. Sharp shots of pain throbbed under the bandage in consequence for web swinging his way all the way from his Manhattan apartment to Harry's residence. 

He had managed to get a few hours of sleep the night before, but still felt spent from his infiltration of Oscorp's corporate office building. He had spent half the night searching through the company's records and even Harry's personal files, but had turned up no evidence of any suspicious activities; not even the hint of a stolen paperclip. The only hope now for finding a link to the terrorists was to coat-tail Harry and pray that the young CEO lead him to the enemy. There were only about ten hours left until the hundred billion dollar ransom was due and Spiderman had made little headway to resolving the threat. 

Lingering behind the mask of Spiderman, Peter felt his two halves struggling with each other. One side of him still hoped for Harry's innocence in the whole matter while the other side tingled in anticipation for Harry to unwittingly take him to the terrorists and bombs that threatened the city and country. 

Despite the uncomfortable position tinkering on the edge of the Osborn mansion created on his still badly wounded body, Spiderman hunkered down in preparation for a possibly long wait for his prey to show beneath the outspread stone wings of his gargoyle host. But before the wall crawler could settle himself, a black circle suddenly appeared against the overhead view of the gray pavement of the street. 

Curious, Spiderman leaned out over the precipice, and identified the mysterious black object as being an opened umbrella. Gliding across the sidewalk, the umbrella glided in a straight line for the awaiting limo, in a brisk pace. Meeting the moving umbrella halfway, the limo driver slipped from the driver's side and jogged hastily through the downpour and swung open the passenger door. As the passenger lowered his umbrella to close it, Spiderman glimpsed the unmistakable face of his old friend, Harry Osborn, before it was swallowed by the cavernous interior of the limo as the young man sat himself inside. 

"Well, got to be going," Spidey said in farewell to the growling gargoyle as the limo far below pulled away from the curb. Leaping off the building, Spiderman shot a line of webbing out in the direction the limo was headed. As the strand pulled taunt, his gritted his teeth pain as he felt the muscles spanning across his stomach and ribs pulled out as gravity grabbed for his body to pull downward. 

Beneath the swinging arachnid, the limousine began to slowly pull away from its pursuer as it drove quickly through the deserted New York street, clear of any traffic to hamper its movements. 

'Ugh, I can't keep up with them at this rate,' Spiderman though desperately as he threw one strand after another in the vain attempt of keeping up with the speeding vehicle below that sent sprays of water hurling to the sidewalk as it zoomed through the streets. It was becoming clear to Spiderman that he was going to lose Harry's limo and his only lead if he didn't think of something soon. The limo was already half a block ahead of him, and gaining ground fast. Frustration grew in the wall crawler as he thought of how easily he would have been able to keep up with it had he not been injured. 

Suddenly, an idea flashed through the web swinger's head, 'If I could somehow land on it, I could just piggyback ride Harry to wherever he was going. Then I wouldn't have to hurt myself web swinging trying to keep up with it.'

But the reality of his idea still remained a problem; how could he catch up with Harry's car if it had, by now, gained a full block's lead on the wall crawler? Swiveling his head from side to side desperately, Spidey looked for anything he could use to help him catch up. Feeling his stomach sink with the thought of losing Harry, he suddenly noticed the limo's left turning light blinking through the rainy mist of water kicked up from the car's back tires. 

"I just hope this works…" he muttered as he swiftly threw a line of gossamer webbing to snare the edge of tall building situated on the left side of the concrete canyon he currently was swinging through. Swerving into the adjacent street, Spidey rapidly shot a series of webs as he sped through the side street. Spraying another strand to the corner of a building on the right hand side of the end of the block, Spiderman held the end of the web line as his body snapped parallel to the ground around the corner and shot him into the next street. 

Glancing beneath him, Spiderman spotted Harry's black limo speeding towards him. 'It worked,' he thought in relief. He had feared the vehicle would have turned onto yet another street, therefore losing Harry in the process while he had been web swinging on the other side of the block to increase his speed and momentum as he swung around the corners. But his tactic had worked and his target was now careening toward him as his body swung in a huge arc out above the intersection of the adjoining streets. 

A moment of hesitation ensued as the wall crawler continued his wide arc above the nearing vehicle. He had to wait for the right moment to let go of his web in order to get in the right position to land atop the approaching limo, but he also had to worry about letting go before he manage to smash himself like a bug against the side of the building he had just swung around. 

"Here goes," Spidey called out as he finally released his web line and plummeted to the approaching limousine below. Dropping quickly, Spidey steadied his body into an air-born crouch as the ground rushed up towards him. Twenty feet above the limo, with the vehicle still a good fifteen feet in front of him, Spiderman realized he was moving too fast to land on the moving vehicle without creating a loud crash that would alert all those inside the car to his presence. He was going to have to catch the limo in a slide.

Sucking in a deep lungful of air, Spiderman's reflexes sprang to life as double strands of webbing were expelled to snag separate street lights that hung straight out over the street on either side of the arachnid's falling body. Feeling the strands pull tight, Spiderman's momentum continued to pull the wall crawler horizontal to the slick, wet pavement beneath him as he felt his decent slow to a manageable speed. 

Below Spiderman's body, the limo sped to meet him. Lessening his grip of the webbing, Spidey dropped to the roof of the limo on his tailbone to minimize the impact as a stifled grunt of air being knocked out of his lungs cut through the air. Keeping his weight from slamming into the thin metal roofing of the vehicle, Spiderman felt his butt skid against the slippery surface of the car towards the edge of the roof as the inertia of the vehicle swung his body from beneath him and toppled him to his back. 

Instinctively, he released the strands of webbing he still held between his clenched fists and shot out his fingertips and feet to grip the slick metal of the car. Coming to a squeaking stop atop the careening limousine only inches away from the edge, Spidey lay flat against the cold metallic surface as the car sped on oblivious to its stowaway. Gasping air into his starved lungs, Spiderman's stomach and back exploded in pain from his violent escapade of catching up to the limo. 

As the pain throbbed beneath the tight bandage, Spidey let the chilly rain cascade over him. Gazing upward, Spiderman passively watched the skyscrapers that lined both sides of the road and spiraled upward to the overcast sky speed by as wind whipped around his body. Knowing he could not spend the rest of the ride as he was on top of the car, Spidey rolled to his stomach and positioned himself in the center of the roof and gripped his toes and fingers to the slippery metal. 

Feeling the icy chill of the wet metal seeping through his wounds' covering, Spiderman pressed his ear to the roof and strained his hearing for an noise from inside. Suddenly the muffled ringing of a phone sounded from the other side of the thin metal that separated Spiderman and the young Osborn inside. 

Trying to block out the howling wind that flowed around him, the wall crawler listened intently as he heard Harry call out, "Hello? Osborn here."

"Yes….Yes, I understand your concern…I assure you there will be no more interruptions. I have already secured the detonation zone and have a team of men stationed near it assure there will be no interruptions…Don't worry. I've decided to give it my personal attention that I oversee the final stage of the plan. I don't want to see my investment go down the hole…"

Spiderman's interest peaked at the mention of Harry's overseeing of the final stage. This may mean he would lead him to the bomb itself. Still, he felt a pang of regret inside at the confirmation that his friend had stooped to such despicable things such as selling government intelligence to terrorists. Straining his ears, Spidey listened in on the one sided conversation between Harry and whoever he was talking to. 

After an extended pause, a muffled laugh sounded from inside with a malicious undertone, "…Spiderman? We have the whole US government out looking for us and you're worried about that bug? Mr. Kathal, I assure you we have no fear of that pest…"

From there Harry's voice took a more defensive tone towards the man on the other side of the line after a pause, "…Yes, I realize that Spiderman escaped from the hospital and my men were unable to totally eliminate him, but I doubt he will be of any concern to us. And if he does show up, he won't live long to cause us any problems…"

The pit in Spiderman's stomach sank. So Harry had ordered for his assassination while he had been in the hospital. That meant Harry was probably also responsible for ordering the elimination of the man that had tried to shoot Collins and Jameson. It seemed his friend had changed more then what he had first suspected since Norman Osborn's death. Looks like the apple hadn't fallen far from the tree.

Breaking out of his nostalgic trace, Spiderman heard the last of the phone call,"…Yes, I will be there in less then twenty minutes…" 

"And so will I…" Spidey mumbled as the limo sped him through the rainy side streets of New York towards its mysterious destination.

******

Spiderman's body was beginning to grow numb as the icy rain continued to pummel against his back and send waves of shivers across his skin. The limousine had finally begun to decelerate and slow down. The sound of crunching gravel beneath the car's tires filled the air over the rain and low thunder rolling in the distance. Swiveling his scarlet shrouded head from side to side, the wall crawler surveyed his surroundings. 

It appeared he had been taken to an extensive warehousing complex that spanned along the long shoreline of the Hudson River. On signs above several of the low storage buildings read the logo of 'Oscorp Industries.'

Long, two story warehouses spanned on either side of the vehicle as the car drove slowly between the huge structures. The three hundred foot warehouses were built of thick metal paneling, attesting to Oscorp's built-to-last construction. Large shipping crates the size of moving vans sat stacked in the surrounding area of the largest of the warehouses under Oscorp's name. 

Coming to a stop directly in front of the structure's huge docking doors, the limo's engine stuttered to a stop making the soft patter of rain more noticeable on the metal roof of the vehicle. Dragging his numbed legs beneath his body slowly to avoid making noise, Spiderman readied himself to move quickly. 

"Wait here," Harry's commanding voice said to the driver as he moved to the door of the vehicle. Timing the 'thwip' of his webbing to the moment Harry opened the passenger door, Spiderman pulled himself with stiff awkwardness upward before anyone could notice his presence. Scuttling to the eves of the building, Spidey peered over the ledge as Harry's trench coat clad figure strided calmly to the doors of the warehouse. 

As Harry disappeared into the warehouse, Spiderman turned on his heels and scurried across the slippery, water drenched rooftop of the building. Coming to the edge of a large skylight, Spidey narrowed his eyes, struggling to see anything within the darkened structure behind the water streaked glass. 

Seeing no movement, he heaved one of the panels of glass upward and slipped through. Lowering the pane silently back into place, Spidey paused as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. As the darkness slowly became more clearer in the gloomy light, a sharp ache returned to the web swinger's bullet wounded belly. Wincing at his body's revolt, he swallowed the pain and tried to coax himself, "Come on, Spidey. You can do this. You should be able to do this with your eyes blindfolded."

Turning towards the interior of the building, Spiderman leapt awkwardly in his weakened state to a nearby catwalk. Bounding off the metal structure and jumping to a wide steel beam that spread across the width of the building thirty feet above the cement floor, Spidey surveyed the layout that lay littered with various sized crates and machinery. 

Sneaking along the dusty and cobwebbed rafters of the warehouse that spanned and crisscrossed the entire length, Spiderman moved with agile grace to the opposite end of the building. Muffled voices vibrated through the humid air in the distance. There near the far end of the building, in the dim light, stood a group of shadowy figures. 

Stealing nearer overhead, Spiderman took position above the gathered men below. Faint voices wafted up to the overseeing arachnid. 

"Have the weapons been placed in each of the cities?" said Harry's familiar voice to another of the men. In the gloomy lighting of the warehouse, Spiderman could make out the appearance of several middle easterners among a small group of hardened looking thugs. 

In answer to Osborn's question, one of the middle easterners with a bushy mustache, apparently the leader of the other group, answered, "They are in position and ready to be detonated at the appropriate time."

"Or when the US government pays the ransom," Harry pointed out. 

Forcing a tight smile, the other man said, "Shall we go out to the weapon. It will take at least a forty five minutes for the boat to reach the island." Turning to leave, the group began to file out through a door that stood open ajar to the drizzle falling outside.

Spidey felt a moment of uncertainty. Should he let them go or follow them? If they were taking a boat to wherever they were going to, it was unlikely he would be able to go unnoticed on a small water faring vessel. But he couldn't let them go. That would totally defeat the whole purpose of being there in the first place. 

The only apparent option was to subdue the group and then force them to tell him where the bomb was. It was a long shot but the only choice he had. Doing a quick head count, Spiderman numbered seven men; Harry, the Iranian leader, two other middle easterners, and then three of Harry's hired cronies. He knew he couldn't take all of them one on one in his condition, leaving only the elements of surprise and sneaky techniques to his disposal. 

Aiming carefully, Spiderman shot a blast of silk webbing towards the backs of the retreating men. Grunts of surprise sounded as the two Iranian underlings connected with the wall as a giant web plastered them flat and muffled their mouths. 

"Mind if I crash this party, gents?" Spidey called as he leap from his perch and swung to the floor below. Shouts of surprise were issued from the remaining men as they wheeled around in alarm. 

"It's Spiderman!" the leader of the foreigners cried in disgust. Turning a cold stare at Harry who stood beside him he whispered dangerously, "I thought you said he wouldn't be causing us any problems, Mr. Osborn."

"He won't," Harry muttered back. Calling to his men, Harry ordered, "Stop him!"

Rushing forward, the three thugs made to overtake the outnumbered wall crawler. 

"Red rover, red rover, let the goons from Oscorp come over," Spidey sang cheerily as he darted out of the charging path of the three. Caught off guard and wrapping their arms around thin air, the group stumbled to a stop where one was quickly taken to the ground by another shot of well aimed webbing. 

"Never can find good help these days…" the web swinger said as he shook his head in mock disgust. Growling, one of the remaining two stepped forward as he swung a fist in a haymaker punch. Ducking beneath the blow, Spiderman caught the man's overextended arm and hoisted the man above his head. Pain shot through his back and stomach as the man's weight bore down on the weakened arachnid. 

Clenching his teeth, Spidey tossed the body to the side of the room where the man crashed into the wall and slid to the floor in a heap. Before the wall crawler could check to see if the man had been knocked unconscious, an insistent humming vibrated the base of his skull. Spinning on his heels sharply, Spiderman had a moment of slow motion vision as the image of a gloved fist came in a direct path for his face. 

Instinctively shooting out his hand to block the blow, Spidey caught the fist in the palm of his hand. Undaunted, the second man swung his other fist for the other side of the arachnid's head. Before his spider-sense could even tingle, Spiderman caught that punch too with his free hand. Hands interlocked, it was now a battle of brute strength as the two wrestled to dominate the other. 

Feeling his weakened muscles straining under the other man's strength, Spidey planted his feet in the dusty concrete floor in determination not be overpowered. 'This guy wouldn't have stood a fighting chance against me if I wasn't so weak right now,' Spiderman growled to himself as the man struggled to force the wall crawler back and to the ground. 

Feeling his foothold slipping, Spiderman shifted his weight quickly as he kicked his foot out to strike the man in his exposed ribs. But before his boot could connect, the man scissored his arms over top each other, pulling Spidey's weakened body off center. Startled by the man's manipulation of his own movements against him, Spiderman twisted his body to keep himself from falling. Blinding whiteness exploded before the wall crawler's eyes as he became aware of his mistake and collapsed to his knees with a rattled gasp of pain. 

Seeing an opening to finish the pest, the man swung the stunned form violently into a nearby crate. Emitting a sharp yelp, Spiderman collided with the box. Falling to the ground, Spiderman doubled over as searing pain cascaded through his entire body. Nausea griped his insides as the room spun in a haze of distortion from where he lay. Moaning softly, Spidey struggled to get his bearings. 

"You should have just stayed out of this, Spiderman," came a voice from off to the side of the vast room, "You would have saved yourself a lot of pain and effort." He instantly recognized it as Harry's. 

"I'm not going to let you win," Spidey chocked out from behind the pain. Heaving himself to his hands and knees, the wall crawler gasped as his body reeled unsteadily on his supports. Gritting his teeth together to keep his pain from being voiced to his adversaries, Spiderman lurched himself onto his wobbly feet. 

"Your very noble in your efforts. Stupid…but noble none the less," Harry stated coldly with crossed arms as the arachnid swayed on unsteady legs, "But being noble's not going to save your life this time. Finish him." 

Stepping forward, the man who had thrown Spidey against the crate charged forward again with his head and shoulder lowered to battle ram the arachnid. Unable to mount a defensive quickly enough, the wall crawler was knocked backwards by the man's huge shoulder slamming into his chest. As the world swayed before dazed eyes, Spidey felt the sharp sting of his spider sense. 

Knowing danger was somewhere nearby, Spidey bike-peddled his feet to stop his wild backward momentum. Suddenly, a paralyzing pain exploded through every nerve ending of his body as an unknown force imbedded itself into his side, halting the wall crawler with a jolt. Gasping in surprise, Spiderman's body writhed uncontrollably in pain as blue and white sparks flared themselves before his vision. 

Desperately struggling to break away from the electrical pain, Spiderman's body felt paralyzed. Time seemed to stop as the searing torture froze his body and mind. 

'Make it stop!' he frantically tried to cry from his paralyzed mouth. As if in obedience, the pain subsided suddenly, releasing the spider from the paralyzing pain. 

His knees felt like putty as the gloomy warehouse dimmed in and out and darkness blotted his vision. Staggering a foot forward, Spiderman's muscles and joints locked abruptly as the floor rushed up swiftly to meet him. 

Crashing heavily onto his stomach, Spiderman rolled his head sluggishly to the side in confusion, 'What happened…' His body refused to respond as he commanded it to stand. Every limb of his body felt like it was filled with lead balls and weighed a thousand pounds. Shadowy figures stood over his helpless body as distant voices sounded above him. Dark spots clouded his vision as the world swam around him. 

"Good work, Smith." The voice sounded familiar…Harry's? 

"Nothing we couldn't handle, Sir." 

Managing to lift his scarlet head only a few inches off the ground, the image of An electric taser gun faded in and out between the black dots that clouded Spiderman's vision. Vibrant blue sparks jumped menacingly between the two metal prongs that topped the small black device gripped in the man's hand. Spiderman recognized him as the thug he had first fought. He must have snuck up on him while he had been fighting his partner. 

"Do you want us to finish him, Mr. Osborn?" came another voice from the other side of the stunned superhero. 

"No…I want him alive just a little bit longer. I just thought of a more fitting demise for our little friend here," Harry's fading voice came in response with twisted mirth, "Cut down the others from that webbing and then bring the bug with you. I have plans for him…"

Hearing no more then that, Spiderman's head sank slowly to the ground. His eyelids fluttered frantically behind his shimmering eyepieces. Succumbing to the pain, oblivion took him. The rest became darkness… 

To be continued…..


	5. Children's Nursery Rhymes Are Somtimes D...

Ok people. Got another chapter for you. Hope you like. So without further or due…

Disclaimer: I don't own Spiderman. Any names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. (How's that for a disclaimer…)

Coldness. The icy chill that numbed the whole right side of his body, from shoulder to knee, was what drug the wall crawler out of the darkness of unconsciousness. Straddling the line between sleep and consciousness, Spiderman groggily peeled his eyelids up across the gritty surface of his eyes. 

Muffled voices hummed softly from somewhere nearby. Blinking back the haze that clouded his vision, Spidey lay motionless as the world seemed to fade in and out of focus through the milky white tone cast by his mask's eyepieces. Gathering his will power, he forced back the beckoning urge to let the darkness claim him again. 

Pain throbbed through his whole body even as he lay on his side motionless. The side where he had been stunned ached terribly. Fortunately, the thick bandage that bound his wounded stomach had taken most of the force but had not managed to totally protect the web swinger from more damage to his already broken body. 

Wanting to lift a hand to his pounding head, Spiderman winced as fresh pain sharply cut through his wrists. Flexing his muscles with more effort this time, the wall crawler strained weakly against the corded nylon that held his wrists securely behind his back to a structural support of the wall he lay beside. Thin cording also bound his ankles immobile. 

Teeth clenched, Spidey's shoulders and arms began to ache as he struggled vainly against his restraints. 'Can't break it,' Spiderman thought with a growl of frustration as he stopped his struggling and lay still. Panting in exhaustion, the web swinger bit back the pain in his bullet wounded stomach. His brief fight with Harry's thugs had weakened Spidey even further then he had been before. 

Slowly regaining his senses, Spiderman again heard voices resonate from nearby then abruptly stop. Shuffling himself with a groan upright from the cold cement floor to sit, Spiderman swiveled his head sluggishly from side to side. The room swayed as the wall crawler slumped forward and waited for the vertigo that distorted his senses to die down. Nausea threatened to heave his stomach's contents to the back of his throat. 

As the retching heaves of his stomach slowly tapered off, Spiderman surveyed his surroundings. The dimly lit room was narrowed and stretched, only about a ten foot width, with a bank of windows spanning the right-hand wall from where Spiderman sat. A metal staircase wound its way into the blackness below a few feet to his left. Rain cascaded down the glass as lightening streaked the sky outside. Something about the place seemed eerily familiar to the web swinger. 

Still not totally coherent, Spidey felt the nagging feeling he knew where he was. Suddenly, it hit him harder then a sack of bricks. He had been there, as a child years before. The chamber he sat in was the Statue of Liberty's observation room located in the crown of the copper structure. A sinking feeling drained the color from his face behind the scarlet mask. 

"Oh no…" he muttered in distress. The Statue of Liberty now seemed like one of the perfect places for a viral bomb to be detonated. It was probably one of the most centralized positions to infect most of New York City and one that could be easily taken over with its scant security; especially since half the city had been evacuated.

"About time you woke up, eight legs," came a harsh voice through the thick fog of sickness that clenched his stomach. Tilting his head in the direction the voice had come from, the arachnid could make out the darkened silhouettes of several people standing in the far corner of the room. He recognized the men as the ones from the warehouse. 

Radio equipment and high tech devices littered a folding table set up behind them. Several screens displayed technical data that was illegible to Spidey from across the room. Quickly scanning the rest of the room, he spotted a large cylindrical metal contraption sitting somewhat towards the center of the room. Connected to the side of the device was a long glass tube where multiple hoses snaked off into the main compartments. Inside the glass tube was a dark greenish fluid; the condensed liquid form of the deadly virus housed inside. 

'The bomb,' Spidey thought, an overwhelming fear knotting his stomach. 

Slowly stalking towards him, Harry Osborn strode across the small expanse of space. Coming to a halt, the young CEO towered menacingly over the debilitated superhero. Low thunder rumbled somewhere overhead, creating an ominous atmosphere. 

Harry stood transfixed as he stared down upon his captive. Was this the man that had killed his father? He seemed so helpless and weak groaning in pain on the floor at Harry's feet. A moment of uncertainty passed through Harry before it was pushed away by the dark memory of walking into his father's room to find Norman Osborn's body laying dead with Spiderman standing over it. 

He would never forget the surge of emotions that had poured over him as he turned to grab his father's revolver that was hidden in the drawer of an end table only to turn and find that Spiderman had disappeared and fled into the night, leaving Harry alone to mourn his father's death. 

A tight smirk of vengeful mirth crossed the young Osborn's face as he brought himself back from the past to the present. "It may seem contradictory considering the situation between us, but I'm glad your still alive. I didn't want you to miss the party," Harry said as he lowered himself to a knee to look eye to eye with his captive. 

"Why are you doing this? Why are you so ready to kill so many innocent people?" Spiderman questioned in slow, garbled syllables, "You won't get away with this."

Harry's eyes hardened as he glared at the white insect eyes of Spiderman's mask. Snarling, Harry's face contorted in rage, "How dare you patronize me about killing innocent people! This coming from the man that killed my father with his own hands. You're nothing but a cold blooded killer!"

"Harry, I didn't-"

"Shut up! I don't want to hear your lies!" Harry shouted angrily, his hands clenched tightly by his sides.

Undaunted, Spidey tried to reason with his old friend, "I didn't kill Osborn. You don't know what kind of man he was. He-"

The hallow crack of fist against jaw suddenly split though the air as Harry pummeled his knuckles deep into Spiderman's cheek. Not that Harry would be considered a heavy weight, but his punch carried the explosive force of all the pent up hate and loathing he had held against Spiderman that had been building inside him since his father's death. Reeling to the floor, the wall crawler lay sprawled on the ground, stunned by the sudden attack. 

Slightly hyperventilating in anger, Harry spat dangerously, "Don't you ever say that about my father! You have no idea of what kind of man my father was! He was a great man, so don't you ever _ever _speak badly of him."

Spiderman lay speechless at Harry's violent outburst. He had never seen his friend so upset. Regaining his composure and smoothing the ruffled brown hair from his eyes, Harry reverted back to his business like manner and said tightly, "You may think I'm doing this for money, and in a way you're right. See, I get a hefty chunk of that hundred billion dollar ransom if the government pays up. But your little unexpected intrusion gave me another reason even if they don't."

"And what would that be?" Spidey ventured warily. Getting decked by Harry again was not high on Spidey's to do list. He swore he could taste blood in his mouth and feel a loose tooth where Harry had decked him. Too weakened to hoist himself back up, Spiderman lay on the ground, looking upwards to Harry's looming figure. His whole body throbbed relentlessly. 

"I want you to be the first to suffer and die when that bomb goes off. I want you to die from that virus knowing that everyone you know and care for is going to die horribly and there's nothing you could have done about it," Harry answered with cold malice, "I want you to know what is feels like to lose someone you love."

Underneath the hardened voice, Spiderman thought he detected sadness in his old friend's voice. But something wasn't adding up…  
Slightly confused, Spidey questioned in a pained whisper, "Why would you kill yourself just to see me die? You'd die too from exposure to the virus when it's released."

Throwing his head back, Harry let out a cackling laugh. "I won't die," he chuckled, "Don't worry about me. I'll be here just when your about to meet your maker. Just before you die, I'm going to rip that mask of yours off and laugh in your face. Then I'll see who you really are and spit in your face for what you did to me and my father."

"But how?" Spidey demanded weakly.

With a smug smirk, he answered, "Oscorp took the extra step and developed an anti-virus that neutralizes the virus immediately upon injection into the blood stream. So even after the bomb is detonated, my associates and I,"- here he made a sweeping gesture to the small group of other men who stood in the shadows of the room-"we will not even be effected by the virus."

"Even if the government doesn't pay, Oscorp will still make a bundle by selling the anti-virus at top dollar to the rest of the American public. Panic will cause the frightened masses to jump for an antidote that can save them from this biological weapon. Either way, I win and can retire a very wealthy man," Harry added. 

"Don't you think the government won't be even a little suspicious when Oscorp "miraculously" comes out with a wonder cure for the virus immediately after those bombs are detonated? They already suspect you're involved," Spiderman pointed out, becoming angered by his friend's apparent apathy towards the killing of thousands of innocent lives. 

"Oscorp will wait a few weeks and give the appearance of working hard all that time to find a cure we already have. Sure, a couple hundred thousand or more people will have died, but…Hey, that's just business," Harry shrugged his shoulders and tilted his head to the side slightly to gesculate his helplessness in the ways of the world. 

"You're worse then anything you may think I am," Spiderman whispered in a regretful tone of disbelief. Deep inside the wall crawler's mind, he began to question himself guiltily.

Had Harry really become a cold blooded monster like what Norman Osborn had become? Maybe it was his fault Harry had become like this. Whenever Peter Parker put on the blue and red costume of Spiderman, everyone he knew seemed to get hurt. First Aunt May, then Mary Jane, and now his closest friend Harry. 

Outside the green copper framework of Lady Liberty's jagged crown, rain pummeled in thunderous waves against the thick metal. Lightening flashed brightly in brilliant streaks across the dark sky. Spidey could make out one or two of the other men shifting uneasily as the storm raged outside. 

Glancing over his shoulder towards the bank of windows on the other side of the room, Harry paused as the wind began to howl and whip around the tower of iron. 

Turning his dark brown eyes back to look down upon the wounded web swinger, Harry again let a small smirk to curl the corner of his mouth upward. "I assume you're familiar with that children's nursery rhyme, 'The Ittsy bitsy Spider?" he asked enigmatically. 

Receiving no answer from behind the crimson mask, Harry continued nonplussed, "Remember that line: Down came the rain and washed the spider out?"- he softly sang the line- "It seems ironic that the weather should lend itself to such a phrase just when the deadliest virus since the bubonic plague is about to be released upon the world."

"What are you talking about?" Spidey demanded as he pulled himself with determination up to sit. Wincing under his mask, he pulled himself eyelevel with the young Osborn. Fresh pain cut through his body as his chest heaved up and down from exertion, his breath whistling between gritted teeth.

"This wonderful little storm front is blowing inland," explained Peter's old friend, "Oscorp's scientists designed this virus to be carried in the air and to be highly contagious. Meaning, once the bomb is detonated, the virus will be carried by the winds and in the storm, doubling the initial infection zone further inland then if it was dispersed by itself. And just to let you know, I checked the Weather Channel this morning and it looks like San Francisco is having a bit of a rainy season too…"

Spiderman felt his insides twist with dread at those words. As far inland as Western Pennsylvania and Ohio could be infected, raising the death toll of the virus drastically into the tens of millions, not to mention most of the east coast if what Harry said was true about San Francisco. He had to get free and stop them. He couldn't let all those people die. It was all up to him. 

Standing straight, Harry barked an order to one of his men as he crossed the room, "Smith, watch the bug and make sure he doesn't try anything. There's still four hours until the deadline."

"Can I have some fun with our little friend, Sir?" the brute that stepped forward rasped as he cracked his knuckled loudly. 

Stealing a final glimpse at Spiderman's weakened form from out the corner of his eye, Harry answered, "Just don't kill him. That's going to be my pleasure…"

As the young CEO returned to the group of men, Harry's crony lumbered over to where Spiderman slumped against the wall weakly. A cruel smile was sketched across his beard stubbled mouth as the thick muscled, wall of a man glared down at his victim. 

Shooting a quick glance over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching, the man knelt in front of the wall crawler. Narrowing his eyes vengefully, the man clamped a beefy hand over Spidey's mouth, earning him a muffled grunt of surprise. Thrashing frantically to free himself from the man's unrelenting grip, Spiderman's body exploded in more pain as he strained to somehow escape. Desperate for air, he ignored the pain and continued struggling. 

"This is for covering us with that web-crap of yours," the neck-less thug whispered harshly into the arachnid's ear. Powerfully pistoning his fist deeply into Spidey's bandaged abdomen, the squishy ripping of stitches from flesh echoed in the web swinger's ears as his vision flashed white. 

Beneath the man's smothering grip, Spiderman's tortured scream of agony became nothing more then a garbled whimper as he jackknifed over. Releasing his hold over the web swinger's mouth, the man calmly stood and stepped back to survey the pain he had caused with a grin as Spiderman dropped to the floor in a heap. Spidey could feel blood beginning to seep from the bullet wounds along his stomach

Gulping air into his lungs in raspy uneven breaths, Spidey curled his legs tightly to his chest. Writhing weakly against his restraints, Spiderman gradually lay still as his senses went into overload, sending the arachnid into unconsciousness. 

**************

A still silence permeated the air as Spiderman forced himself awake. Rain pattered loudly against the hull of the copper structure. For a moment, the wall crawler thought he was alone in the Statue of Liberty's observation room, but as his surroundings came into focus through the dim lighting he saw Harry and his associates huddled around the TV sets and radio equipment set up along side the far wall with their backs turned to him. 

Not wanting to draw attention to himself, Spidey quietly heaved himself up to lean against the wall he was tied to. Groaning inwardly in pain, he sat motionless as one of the foreign men began speaking urgently into the radio in an understandable language filled with heavy consonants and quick, harsh sounding syllables. 

Seeing he was not currently of any concern to his capturers, Spiderman edged his body closer to the steel support beam that ran vertical against the wall and acted as the solid base the ropes binding his wrists together were anchored to. Determined to free himself, Spidey ignored the pain coursing through his body. He didn't know how long he had been out for. He had to hurry or he may not be able to stop the terrorists. 

Keeping half his focus on the group of men and the other half concentrated on the strong ropes binding his limbs immobile, the wall crawler pressed the cord against the edge of the steel beam. Moving both hands in a rhythmic sawing motion, he tried to remain inconspicuous while the Iranian man began to relay messages from the other end of the radio to the foreign leader who in turn translated to Harry in flawless English. 

Ignoring the biting pain of the rope cutting into his wrists, Spiderman continued to slowly shave away the cording of his restraints. On the other side of the room, his captors went on. 

"Mr. Osborn," said the Iranian leader in English after a moment of conversation with the radio man in his native tongue, "We have just received confirmation from the drop off point that the US government had delivered the ransom."

"Wonderful," Harry smiled in victory. Glancing at his hired thugs he ordered, "Get the helicopter ready for departure and pack up the equipment." Turning slowly on his heels, Harry faced the captive superhero. 

Abruptly halting his escape attempt, Spiderman froze every muscle in his body, hoping the young CEO hadn't seen him sawing at the ropes. He could feel the cording beginning to give way, but the stubborn ropes were still too much for the weakened superhero's muscles to break. 

As his men hurried about the room gathering equipment into padded silver cases, Harry slowly walked towards Spidey, an evil glint shining in his eyes. "Well, it seems I don't get to see you die slowly after all," he said as he stopped several feet in front of Spiderman, "The government caved and paid up. That means I'll have to find another creative way of disposing of you. Unfortunately, I don't have that kind of time seeing as how I have to catch the first available plane to Europe. So forgive my lack of creativity, but I think a simple bullet to the brain will have do the job."

Spidey had to think fast. He had to stall Harry before he got his brains blown out. But before he could formulate a plan, a voice forced both Osborn and Spiderman to look up. 

"Actually, Mr. Osborn, you're going nowhere," said the middle easterner with the bushy mustache as he stepped forward to address the young CEO. Forgetting his threat against the spider, Harry turned towards Kathal. 

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, annoyed that he had been interrupted. Not saying a word, a gun suddenly appeared from the folds of Kathal's trench coat and leveled itself at Harry. 

"What do you think you're doing?" the young Osborn demanded as he stared down the dark barrel of the gun pointed at his heart. Spidey could sense a twinge of fear in his old friend's voice. 

Seeing the change of situation as a diversion to buy him more time to escape, Spiderman began to hurriedly saw at the cords binding wrists. He could feel the warm sting of blood beginning to seep through his gloves and trickle down his hands. He just hoped he wasn't permanently damaging his web shooting abilities in his attempt to free himself. Swallow the pain, he continued as the ropes became looser and the rope began to fray and unravel slightly against the corner of the steel beam. Harry's thugs that had been packing the equipment away had frozen in their places as Kathal's cronies pulled their own guns on the startled men. 

"You Americans never cease to amaze me in how trusting you are," Kathal said as he slowly wagged his head from side to side, "I never intended to not detonate those bombs. You honestly didn't think we were paying you $200 million to develop those bombs and then not use them, did you?" That's just stupid. You people don't call us terrorists for nothing."

Shaking his head in admonition at Harry, Kathal pulled what appeared to be a thick remote control out from the depths of his black trench coat. Holding it away from his body, Kathal held it face out for Harry to see. The startled expression on Osborn's face and the thin shine of nervous sweat that beaded on his forehead confirmed his recognition of the device.

"What are you going to do with that?" Harry demanded in the feeble voice of fading authority and control. 

Not answering immediately, Kathal turned the remote in his hand so the buttons dotting the shiny surface faced up towards him. Cradling the device in his palm, he maneuvered his thumb agily over the pad of numbered buttons as he punched in a sequence of numbers. Finishing his tapping, Kathal again held the remote out for Harry to view. On the small black screen flashed the bright red digital numbered reading, 30:00.

"Thirty minutes. That's all I'm giving before all six bombs are set to detonate. But by then, I'll be far away from here with your precious anti-virus safely in my possession," Kathal explained as he slowly moved his thumb over a large red button towards the bottom of the remote. 

"But you can't…" Harry stuttered in a mixture of anger and fear at his associate's sudden betrayal, "The government paid our ransom. It's not right."

"Correction. _My _ransom," Kathal cut off sharply, "If you hadn't been so greedy, you may have lived through this. But now, you've just become another lose end that's served its purpose and has to be disposed of."

Glancing at his men, Kathal nodded to them while stating, "Tie them up and leave them." With that, the Iranian gently pressed the button his thumb was poised over. Ticking off the seconds, the remote's displayed thirty minutes began to quickly disappear. 

"Hey, I ain't dying from this shit!" shouted one of Harry's thugs suddenly. Lunging for the closest Iranian, the man grasped for the gun pointed at him. Following suit, the other two of Harry's men jumped at the other middle easterner. 

Panicking from the first man's resistance, the Iranian quickly fired two shots. A gurgled scream issued from the shot man before he dropped to the floor, dead. Meanwhile, the other two were beginning to overtake the last Iranian in a flurry of fists and flying limbs. 

Turning his eyes away from Harry, Kathal snapped his head to look over his shoulder at the sounds of shouting and gunfire. His face wrinkled in anger as he shouted in Arabic to his remaining man. Growling, he brought his gun around to point at the mass of struggling men. 

Glancing uncertainly for a moment between Kathal's turned back then to his two hired men that were wrestling with the last Iranian, Harry leapt for the gun that no longer was trained on him. Caught off guard, Kathal stumbled under Harry's thrown weight. Recovering, Kathal straightened and swung his elbow into Harry's ribs, shoving the younger man to the ground. 

Chaos ran ramped in the confining room as the two Iranians fought back Harry's men. Maneuvering his gun, one of the middle easterners managed to shoot off a bullet that clipped the man he was fighting in the side. Leaving the wounded thug writhing on the ground by his feet, the man went to help his partner who still struggled with the last of Harry's hired men. 

Spiderman thrashed against the ropes holding his wrists. They were on the verge of breaking, only a single strand kept him from freedom. Straining his muscles, Spidey grit his teeth as he pulled against the cording. He had to get free.

'Just a little further…" he muttered in determination. Suddenly, the ropes broke with a sharp snap, sending his arms flying around his sides from the forward momentum of his struggles. Spiderman didn't waste a moment as he snapped back his glove torn and bloodied wrists in the direction where Kathal loomed over Harry's fallen body. 

"Mr. Osborn, I think this is where we say our goodbyes," Kathal said as he leveled his gun to point directly between Harry's frightened eyes. Slowly cocking the gun, he took aim. 

Expelling a thick line of webbing, Spiderman snagged the tip of the gun with a startled grunt of surprise from Kathal. Yanking back, Spidey torn the gun from the middle easterner's hand just as the blast of the bullet meant for Harry shot through the air. Ricocheting off the metal hull of the room, the bullet clipped off the wall and into the center of the room where the sharp sound of glass being chipped echoed. 

Savagely clawing at the cords binding his ankles together, Spiderman managed to loosen the ropes and wiggled his feet from the tangled mess. Hoisting himself from his knees then to his feet weakly, Spidey turned to face Kathal. His abused body swayed unsteadily, dizziness overwhelming his senses. 

Dramatic tension filled the room as thunder cracked loudly though the heavy, humid air. Rain smashed heavily onto the bank of windows on the far side of the room. Kathal glared angrily at the arachnid as he clutched his injured hand from which his gun had been ripped from. 

"You…" the Iranian snarled as he narrowed his eyes at the superhero. But before he could think of anything more to say, a frightened shout rang through the room. It was one of foreign men, calling in his native language frantically. The last of Harry's men lay unconscious beside his partners dead, blood stained body. 

Glancing in the direction his underling was motioning to, Kathal's face drained of color. Following his gaze, Spiderman suddenly felt the insistent vibrating of his spider-sense at the base of his skull, alerting him to lurking danger. He now knew without needing a translation what the man had said. 

From the side of the bomb sitting off to Spidey's side, a small pale greenish cloud hovered in the air. From a small puncture hole in the clear glass tubing attached to the device's side spewed the deadly viral gas of the bomb into the room.

"Oh god, no!" Harry cried as he stood from the ground hurriedly, and backed against the wall as the vapors began to fill the room, "We're all dead now…"

To be continued…..

Next time: The final showdown. 

Note from author: I've never actually been to the Statue of Liberty so I had to go on the internet and try to research it a little. I couldn't really find that much on structural blueprints or anything like that so I had to adlib a little from what I found. If I made any major mistakes for all you New York buffs out there, tell me and I'll fix the chapter to make it as realistic as possible

Don't forget to review! It would really make my day! 

-LAXgirl


	6. The Storm Breaks

This is it people. The last chapter of Down Came the Rain. It was fun writing and I'm kind of sad it had to end, but you know the old saying: 'All good things must come to an end.' So enjoy and I'll see you again at the end. 

Disclaimer: I don't own Spidey but if I did that would kind of make him my personal slave, wouldn't it…*evil snicker*

The bomb was leaking. The viral gas was beginning to fill the room in a pale greenish haze. Spiderman could smell the sickingly sweet scent of the gas permeating through the thin material of his mask and stinging his nostrils. His spider-sense was practically screaming in his head from the danger that was steadily enveloping his person. 

For a moment, he felt the instinctive urge to hold his breath to keep the deadly vapors from entering his lungs. He knew it was a futile attempt, but the primal instinct of self preservation compelled him to defy logic. Deep down, he knew he had already been infected, as had everyone else in the room. 

Tearing his eyes away from the metallic device that was spewing noxious fumes into the air, Spidey quickly looked around for Harry, Kathal and the two Iranian thugs. The middle easterners had disappeared. From the nearby metal staircase, Spiderman could hear their hurried receding footsteps fading below him. They must have made a run for it when his back had been turned on them towards the bomb. 

Kathal had leapt towards the table loaded high with technical equipment, hurriedly rifting through the radios and miscellaneous machines piled there as if in search of something. Harry stood frozen against the wall, his eyes glued in a frightened stare at the growing green mist. 

Spidey couldn't help but feel sorry for his old friend even though he had orchestrated the whole thing that was most probably going to in the end kill them all. But he couldn't worry about Harry or even Kathal and the fleeing terrorists right then. He had to somehow plug the leak and then figure out how to shut off the detonation timer on the bomb. 

Leaping into the thickening cloud of green gas hovering over the compact device on the floor, Spiderman felt only one thing coursing through his body. Fear. 

It's a basic human emotion felt at one time or another by every living person. But this was not the fear of being defeated by the enemy or even fear of dying. He had already proven his willingness to sacrifice his life to save another when he had stepped in front of the speeding bullets meant for Donald Collins and J. Jonah Jameson barely even two days before. 

No, this was the fear of being responsible for the countless deaths of innocent people. Deaths that he could prevent from happening. Deaths that didn't have to happen if he could just somehow save the day. It was a weighty task, but one Spiderman could not disregard. With great power comes great responsibility, he had learned that the hard way. And his responsibility was to stop the terrorists from killing millions of people. 

He already lived everyday feeling the weight of Norman Osborn and Ben Parker's deaths on his shoulders; feeling he could have somehow saved their lives if he had only tried. How would he feel if tens of millions died because he couldn't be the superhero he portrayed himself as by donning his mask and suit every night to patrol the city. 

If he failed and died, surely there was a place in purgatory set aside just for him. A place where he would be tormented for eternity for failing to save the ones he had taken under his charge, the ones he had proven he couldn't protect in the end. 

'I have to stop them' Spiderman thought in determination as he knelt beside the glass tube of liquefied viral gas. His spider-sense flared intensely as the thick noxious fumes billowed up into his face, almost making normal thinking impossible through the incessant buzzing. But he ignored the warning. He had already decided his fate. 

In that moment of do or die, Spiderman no longer felt the searing pain in his wounded stomach or the throbbing headache that pounded in his temples. All he felt was the urgent need to stop anymore of the gas from escaping. On the little LCD screen placed on the side of the bomb, read the numbers 21:15. Seconds continued to rapidly tick away. 

Aiming carefully, the wall crawler quickly threw back his wrists and expelled thick, gummy wads of webbing onto the stream of spurting green fumes. Slowly, the rushes of gas tapered off as Spiderman kept a steady stream of webbing flowing onto the puncture hole. 

As he stood up to survey his handiwork, Spiderman suddenly felt totally drained of energy with an overwhelming sense of dizziness. Bringing a hand up to his head, he swayed on his feet from the vertigo struggling to get his bearings. An icy chill crawled along his skin making the web swinger shiver weakly. 

Considering what he had gone through in the past forty-eight hours, it wasn't surprising that he felt exhausted. But this was different. There was something extremely wrong. And the worse part was, he knew why. He could almost feel the microorganisms of the virus coursing through his veins, rapidly wasting away and killing his body from the inside out. Gasping for air as if he had just run a five mile uphill sprint, he clutched his heaving chest. 

'The virus shouldn't be working this quickly,' Spiderman thought helplessly as he tired to keep himself from collapsing to the ground, 'It must be working faster because I got a higher dose then what is needed to kill a person. If that's the case, then Harry, those other guys and I don't have much time." 

His lungs burned as if they were on fire as he gulped deep lungful of the tainted air into his body. Even behind the semi-protective plastic of the bug-like eyepieces of his mask, Spiderman's eyes watered from the gas. Hot tears began to seep from the corners of his eyes and soak through his mask. Blinking back the water from his vision, Spidey searched through the misty greenish air for signs of Harry or Kathal. His spider-sense had lowered itself to a vibrating tingle; still warning Spidey of the lingering gas in the air.

Out of the corner of his eye, the wall crawler spotted the last fleeting glimpses of the bobbing head of a trench coat clad figure disappearing down the staircase on the far side of the room. Spidey recognized the man as the middle eastern terrorist leader. The sharp tapping of retreating shoes on stairs echoed back up to the observation room as the sound slowly diminished into the distance below as low thunder rumbled overhead. 

Turning to instinctively chase down the fleeing man, Spiderman was suddenly halted by a familiar voice calling out to him, "Spiderman, wait. The bomb is still set to go off."

Narrowing his eyes to squint through the greenish mist blanketing the small room, Spidey made out the hazy outline of Harry Osborn coming towards him. But as the young CEO neared closer, Spidey felt as if he were looking onto the face of a total stranger. 

His old friend's face suddenly looked twenty years older. His once dark and youthful eyes were bloodshot and sunk deep into their eye sockets over shrunken cheeks. The boy's complexion was sickly pale and ashen in the dim greenish hue cast through the room. The young Osborn staggered unsteadily towards Spidey on weakened legs. 

The onsets of the deadly virus that still hung heavily in the air had turned Peter's friend into the living image of Death himself. A sickening feeling spread through Spiderman's stomach. He had a sinking suspicion that if he were to shed his mask and look into a mirror, he would not recognize his own reflection from the ghastly apparition that stared back at him. 

Still in shock by Harry's deteriorated appearance, Spidey momentarily forgot about Kathal, and stuttered out weakly, "What did you say?"

"I said the bomb is still set to detonate. We have to stop the countdown," Harry wheezed, his chest lifting and falling in irregular intervals. His shoulders sagged almost as if his strength was slowly disappearing with every word he uttered. 

Spiderman stood momentarily silent as he stared back at Osborn. Something inside the superhero made him suddenly angry as he accusingly snapped, "What do you mean 'we'? Not even an hour ago, you were hell bent on detonating this thing and killing millions of people. What happened? Now you want to stop it? Why should I trust you?" 

Harry's eyes dropped to stare at the floor guiltily. He seemed to take on the appearance of a child being scolded by an adult, knowing he rightfully deserved it. Shifting his eyes about the room to look at everything but Spiderman himself, Harry muttered softly, "I can't let Kathal do this. I don't know what happened, but when I heard him say he was still going to detonate the bombs even after the government paid…I just knew this was wrong. I can't let this happen."

Spidey felt himself soften slightly at his friend's guilt ridden face. Maybe there was still hope for Harry. Maybe his old friend had finally decided to move on with his life to other things beside conniving for revenge against him and in turn endangering many other innocent lives. But as quickly as the wall crawler felt something growing between them, Harry added with a dangerously stern tone, "If we live through today, I still intend to avenge my father's death. Don't think that I've forgotten what you've done." 

"Yeah I haven't forgotten," Spiderman muttered with a sigh, sorry that his friend couldn't let go of the hatred towards him. But he couldn't worry about that. There was still the bomb he had to worry about. 

Snapping his head back down towards the cylindrical device sitting idly at his feet, Spidey remembered with a start that the clock was still steadily ticking away the minutes. In bright red digital numbers stared back the reading '16:35'

Dropping back to stoop beside the device, Spiderman poised his hands over the metal siding. "No better way to a problem then straight through the middle, I always say," the arachnid said as he wiggled his gloved fingers between the edges of two pieces of metal paneling. 

Mustering his remaining strength into sore arms, he heaved back hard on the panel with a strained grunt of exertion, pulling a tangled mass of multicolored wires and circuits into his lap along with the siding. Dropping the piece of metal to the floor with a loud clatter, Spiderman sifted through the knotted wires. 

He had gone over the printout that Collins had given him on the schematics of the bomb. He vaguely remembered there being a wire that connected the timer to the main compartment of the bomb. If he could get to that, he may be able to deactivate it. 

Trailing his hand to the back of the LCD screen on the insides of the bomb's outer casing, Spiderman pulled three wires free from the others that were bundled inside the device. 

From his side, Spidey felt Harry drop awkwardly from weakness onto his knees beside him. Not acknowledging his old friend's presence, Spiderman tried to focus his blurring vision on the delicate circuitry in his hands. His headache was getting worse. The pounding in his head was almost blinding as was his spider-sense which still rung sharply through his brain. But there wasn't much time left. '13:48' 

'Oh no,' Spidey wanted to scream as he look at the wires he had pulled from the bomb, 'There're three wires. The schematics said there would only be one. Now what do I do?' 

Fanning the three wires out in the palm of his hand, the superhero could make out the colors; red, green, and blue. 

'Which one? Which one?' he panicked. Spidey could feel his lungs constricting tight in his chest as he struggled to keep a clear head through the virus' symptoms. If he pulled the wrong wire, he might detonate the bomb then and there or release the bomb's timer so that it would speed the explosion to within a few seconds. 'I'm a scientist, photographer, and a crime fighter and a lot of things in between, but being an electrician does not fall into that list.'

Beside him, the web swinger could sense Harry nervously shifting on his knees as though he were in indecision about something as he looked over his shoulder, slightly unnerving the arachnid. 

Finally, the young CEO blurted out, "The red one. Pull the red one." 

"What?" 

"In the movies, it's always the red one," he repeated frantically as he waved a hand towards the wires in Spidey's gloved hand. If Harry had been able to see through Spiderman's mask, he would have seen a very skeptical expression twisted onto Peter's face. He couldn't, but the dead silence from his superhero companion managed to convey the message all the same. 

"Oh, and I suppose you have a better idea, web-head?" Harry snorted, annoyed at the silent rebuttal of his logic. 

"Just let me get this straight. You want me to pull the red wire just because you saw it in a movie?" Spidey questioned sarcastically. 

"Do you know how to disarm this thing then?" Harry retorted snidely, his eyebrows knotting together in frustration as the seconds continued to tick away on the small screen below him. 

The only thing was, Spiderman didn't know how to disarm the viral bomb. He had not the foggiest idea of which wire to severe. In all his time of crime fighting thus far, the skills of bomb disarmment had not arisen until then. 

"I always thought it was the green wire," Spidey murmured as Harry shot the web swinger another dirty look out of the corner of his eye. 

Sighing in resignation, Spidey plucked the red wire from the others and let the other two drop to the tangled mess of circuitry in his lap. Holding the plastic insulated wire between his thumb and index, Spidey gripped a length of the wire around his other hand, preparing to pull it in two.

"Let's just hope I don't pull a Lethal Weapons II here…" he muttered as he pulled the wire taunt between his hands. Sucking in a tense breath of air as he winced his head away over his shoulder in anticipation of a sudden explosion, Spidey pulled hard on the wire as the dull snap of plastic and metal being forced apart sounded sharply against the background murmur of rain and thunder. 

*********

Thunder shook the entire structure as Kathal bounded down the stairs. Skipping every other step to gain distance, he slid one shaking hand along the greasy railing lining the staircase to keep his balance while his other held the handle of a small silver case in a death grip, turning his knuckles white. His heart pounded against his ribs in swift heavy beats, almost threatening to beat itself right out of his chest. 

Kathal's echoing footsteps bounced deafeningly off the metal infrastructure of the Statue's torso as the man's feet pounded the metal stairs beneath him. Stealing a quick glimpse over his shoulder, Kathal nervously tried to distinguish any movement from a pursuer in the dark shadows that played across the curved walls from above the winding staircase as the lights that were strategically placed along the stairs flickered from electrical surges caused by the storm.

Every now and then he swore he saw the shimmering reflection of light off Spiderman's bug-like eyes shining through the shadows, clenching his stomach in panic before the apparition melded away into the darkness. 

Ignoring the pain that seized his entire body and constricted his lungs as he ran, Kathal continued to descend the spiraling stairs, destined for the ground floor where he knew a helicopter was waiting to take him away. If he could just get outside and away from Spiderman, he knew he had nothing to worry about. He already had the ransom and now had in his possession the only known cure for the virus that that inept superhero had managed to release before the bomb could be properly detonated. 

But he had the anti-virus, and that was all that mattered. Osborn and Spiderman would be dead within minutes, while he would inject himself with it and walk away unaffected by the virus. But he would need to take the anti-virus soon. He could already feel the virus taking affect. His lungs burned as blood throbbed in his temples, making his head swim. 

As another electrical surge coursed through the wiring of the Statue, the lights suddenly flickered and dimmed then sputtered dead, sending the whole area into darkness. Blind in the sudden absence of light, Kathal stumbled as his toe caught the edge of a stair sending him toppling headfirst down the steps. 

Thudding against the metal steps until coming to a narrow landing of the staircase, Kathal came to a crashing halt as his body collided with the outer hull of the Statue. Stunned by his abrupt tumble, he lay on his stomach in shock as thunder continued to crack through the heavy air outside. Dragging a hand to the side of his head, he could feel the warm sticky texture of blood snaking along the side of his face where his head had hit the ground violently. 

Struggling to stand, he was met with failure as his limbs gave out from under him before he was even able to hoist himself to his knees. The air was beginning to become harder to breath. Pain laced through Kathal's whole body as he vainly gasped for air.

'The virus. It's the virus. But it's working faster then what Osborn said it would,' Kathal thought in panic as he felt his body rapidly deteriorating around him, 'We must have taken in a an almost instantaneously lethal dose when it leaked out into the room. I have to take the anti-virus or I won't live to make it to the helicopter."

Groping his hand along the floor, a wave of dread crashed through him as he realized he had dropped the small case he had been carrying when he had fallen. Swiping both arms in large semi-circle sweeps beside his fallen body in desperation to find in the pitch black the case containing the antidote, he was sighed in relief when his right hand bumped into a hard, hallow object. 

Hurriedly clawing the case towards him, Kathal grasped at the latch holding the two halves together just below the handle. In the delirium of the virus, Kathal's eyes didn't seem to want to focus as his fingers clumsily pried at the latch. Sweat poured down his face as he struggled to breath the stuffy air inside the Statue's body. Finally the dull click of the lock releasing it hold on the case sounded. 

Reaching his hand deep inside the case, he greedily clasped one of the only contents of the casing, a small glass vial, which he pulled from its snug pocket set into the custom-padded lining. Cradling the vial as if it were a precious jewel liable to break from the slightest jar, Kathal reached back into the case with his other hand through the darkness and groped for one of the syringes housed along with the bottle of anti-virus. 

Finding one, he bit on the tough capping of the hypodermic between his teeth, retching the syringe out of its protective casing and exposed the sharp and slender needle inside. Fumbling in the dark, Kathal plunged the sharp tip into the soft circular neck of the vial. Tipping the bottle onto its side with a slosh as its contents shifted he pulled back on the plunger, filling the syringe half full. 

Extracting the needle from the vial, Kathal positioned the syringe's tip just above the soft under-skin of his forearm. Not wasting time to roll the sleeve of his shirt up, he quickly jabbed the needle deep into his arm with a stifled hiss of pain from the sharp pinch. Ramming the plunger to the hilt of the syringe in a fluid movement, Kathal swiped the needle back from out of his skin and threw it to the side as he felt the last of the anti-virus enter his body. 

Laying still, he waited in anticipation for the anti-virus to kick in as his head buzzed with dizziness and his heart thundered against his chest. 'Work. Come on. Work,' he pleaded silently to the antidote that was beginning to pump through his veins towards his heart. 

Turning onto his side weakly, Kathal's eyes slowly rolled into the back of his head as he gasped for air desperately. Pain laced through his entire body to every nerve ending. 'It's not working. The anti-virus isn't working,' Kathal's thoughts screamed through his head, 'I have to get away from here. I don't want to die from this. Not after all I've done and planned.' 

An oppressive weight seemed to weigh down onto his body as he tried to hoist himself up to sit. Struggling to still escape from the Statue, Kathal slumped back to the ground as a sudden explosion of pain stung through his chest and stomach. 

'It should have worked. It should have,' Kathal thought as the pain slowly subsided and oblivion took him. 

********* 

Spidey slowly swiveled his head back towards the bomb that lay half dissected at his knees. In each hand he held a twisted end of black wire jutting from a tube of red plastic. There had been no explosion. No sudden blast with a cloud of green gas in its wake. 

Glancing at the LCD screen, the numbers '11:29' stood. Holding his breath in suspense, Spiderman stared at the screen for a long moment. 

No change. The numbers stood frozen in bright red block numbering at 11:29. He had pulled the right wire. The detonation had been stopped dead in its tracks. 

"We did it," Spiderman said as he heaved a deep sigh of relief to Harry who still kneeled beside him on the cold concrete floor. A great burden suddenly seemed lifted from his shoulders as he looked down upon the dismantled bomb. "Maybe I should watch more action movies from now on and take notes." 

Harry didn't respond as he continued to look down upon Oscorp's gutted piece of technology. A look of deep contemplation furled his sickly features together into a knot in the middle of his face. Slowly raising his eyes from the viral explosive up to Spiderman's masked face, he asked, "What about the other five bombs? Were they disarmed too?" 

Spidey's mouth opened to answer but any sound he was about to utter was immediately swallowed in his throat as he realized the situation. He had managed to disarm the New York bomb, but the others scattered in some of the largest US cities were not. Kathal had set them to detonate by a remote; probably linked to a satellite somewhere in orbit around Earth. Meaning they were still set to blow in less then ten minutes. 

"What happened to the remote?" Spiderman demanded hurriedly as he turned to confront Harry, "Did that guy take it with him? We need it, the other bombs are still going to explode." 

Eyes widened in fright, Harry's eyes darted about the room while trying desperately to recall what Kathal had done with the satellite remote during the confusion of the bomb being punctured and the Iranian men fleeing. 

"I…I think he took it with him," the young Osborn answered uncertainly.

"Oh no…" the wall crawler muttered as he stood unsteadily on shaky feet. As he straightened, a cascade of wiring tumbled to the floor around him. Stumbling over the tangled mass, Spiderman made his way towards the staircase on the far side of the room. 

"Where are you going?" Harry called weakly after the retreating superhero. Peter's old friend hadn't made a move to stand from where he had practically collapsed to his knees when Spidey had disarmed the bomb. His face looked paler and more frail then when Spiderman first saw him after patching the bomb. Harry's body shivered noticeably despite the stifling warm air in the observation room. The virus was quickly killing its creator. 

"I have to get the remote, or the other five bombs are going to infect millions of people," was his answer as he reached the edge of the stairs. Looking down into the darkened abyss of the Statue's body, Spidey could detect no sound resonating up to his ears. "I just hope he didn't get very far or we're all in a lot of trouble." 

Spraying a thick strand of webbing onto the railing of the staircase and gripping the end tightly in his hand, Spiderman vaulted over the guard rail where he was swallowed by the inky blackness of the hallow structure. Slowly lowering himself down the length of Statue, Spidey whipped his head around for signs of the fleeing Iranians. 

Twenty feet down from the crown, Spidey began to feel the disorienting dizziness of sickness beginning to overwhelm his senses. Clutching his spindly lifeline tighter as he slowly lowered himself down, Spidey's wounded stomach clenched in nausea. Panting in exhaustion as waves of chills ran along his spine, the arachnid's muscles screamed in protest as gravity grabbed for his body suspended a hundred feet above certain death if he were to lose his grip and fall. 

Dropping another ten feet, Spiderman felt a slight tingle from his spider-sense. Over time he had learned that the intensity of the tingle of his sixth sense did more then just warn him of danger, but also alert him to other people's presences. And this was one of those times. 

Snapping out another line of web to the side of the copper structure, Spidey pulled himself onto the winding staircase that snaked its way down along the hull of the Statue. Alighting from his webbing, Spidey landed onto a flattened area of the stairs which formed a kind of platform. Thunder rumbled loudly outside through the thick metal. 

Scanning the landing in the darkness, Spiderman could make out the form of a man laying sprawled out on his stomach. There was no other tingle from his spider-sense, telling him that the man was probably unconscious or dead. Coming quickly up along side of the body, the wall crawler gently turned the man onto his back and touched his two forefingers to the man's throat to feel for a pulse. There was one, but very weak. 

With his heightened vision, thanks to his spider-powers, Spiderman recognized the man through the murky blackness of the Statue as being the Iranian leader that had tried to escape just after his cronies had. From his looks, the man probably didn't have much time. His face looked just as bad as Harry's had. 

"Looks like you didn't get very far, did you?" Spiderman said as he threw open the man's trench coat. Just as Spidey had hoped, there stuck between Kathal's belt and the waist of his pants was the satellite remote. Grabbing the device, Spidey was about ready to turn and begin the long journey back up to the observation room when he noticed a slender, pencil like object laying not far from Kathal's body. Stooping down to examine the object, Spiderman saw that it was a syringe. 

'That's strange. Why would he have a needle in a place like this?' he thought, puzzled. Then he remembered Kathal hurriedly searching through the contents of the table back up in the room. He also remembered the man fleeing with something in his hands; a small silver case of some kind. Could he have taken the anti-virus that he and Harry had been talking about?

Glancing about the landing quickly, Spidey spotted the silver case laying half open to the side of Kathal. Hopping over the unconscious body, Spiderman hastened towards the case. Throwing the case open, he frowned deeply as he saw there was nothing inside it except three other syringes fitted into the padded lining. An empty groove sat at the end of the line. Above the remaining needles, a deep pit lay in the outline of a vial. 

Spidey glanced about the platform as he shoved the case away from him in disgust. Where had Kathal put it? If he did have the anti-virus, there might be a chance that Harry and himself could live to see another day. But where was it…

Desperation of finding a possible cure to the deadly virus that was steadily killing him and his best friend made Spiderman leap back toward the inert body nearby. Taking a sweeping glance around the general vicinity, Spidey saw nothing that resembled the shape of the vial that was molded into the black foam lining of the anti-virus' protective casing. 

Stooping beside Kathal's body again, Spidey noticed that the man's hand seemed to be clenched around something. Prying the object from the man's weak grip, Spidey heard the clatter of thick glass against the metal staircase beneath him as the thing dropped to the ground. In the darkness, Spiderman saw that it was a small vial half filled with a clear liquid. 

Feeling his heart leap into his throat, Spiderman carefully picked the vial up into the palm of his hand. Cradling the bottle, he reached to his side and plucked two of the remaining syringes from the opened case. Tucking his precious cargo into his costume, Spiderman gave one last look over his shoulder to Kathal's still form. He felt a twinge of guilt for leaving the sickly man unconscious and alone, but he knew Kathal had already taken the anti-virus and would be fine. But right then he needed to try to stop the detonation of the other bombs that were still set to explode in less then ten minutes. 

'There still may be a chance to get out of this alive,' he thought hopefully as he sluggishly sprung to the metal hull of the structure and began to crawl up the face of the wall. It took every ounce of his willpower to keep moving his limbs in rhythm as he hoisted himself slowly back up towards the crown of the Statue. 

As the muted gray light above him grew, the wall crawler knew his energy wasn't going to hold him much longer. Every muscle in his body ached painfully as he finally heaved himself over the railing of the stairs and landed in a quivering heap on the observation deck's floor. Gasping for breath, Spiderman pulled the satellite remote from his costume. 

There were a multitude of buttons littered across the face of the remote. On the screen, the numbers quickly ticked away from '5:47.' Five minutes. That's all he had left. 

Spiderman felt his frustration mounting as he helplessly scanned the device. No where on the schematics had there been anything mentioning a remote and how it linked all the bombs together in a sort of network. 

White spots blotted his vision as he struggled to focus on the remote in his hand. Compelled by something beyond his understanding, Spidey forced himself weakly back to his feet and stumbled to the center of the room where Harry Osborn still sat on the ground near the shelled viral bomb. His back leaned heavily onto the metal casing of the device, oblivious from the sickness of the virus to have noticed the web swinger's return. Spiderman could see that the young CEO was close to passing out by the dazed look of pain etching into his face and the shallow rise and fall of his chest. 

"Osborn, how do I work this thing?" Spiderman demanded as he dropped to the floor beside his old friend and gently shook Harry's shoulder to rouse the boy from his stupor. 

Blinking his eyes slowly as though he was straining to remember who the brightly garbed superhero before him was and why he was asking him about satellite remotes, Harry's mouth worked in slow movements that produced no audible sounds. 

"Come on, Harry. Work with me here," Spiderman coaxed pleadingly as he shook his friend's shoulder with a little more effort, "You have to tell me what I have to do to disarm these things. If you don't help me, millions of people are going to die."

The desperation in Spiderman's voice seemed to have the desired effects as Harry finally focused his bloodshot eyes onto the wall crawler's face. Giving a weak cough that shuddered his entire body, Harry crocked out softly between raspy gasps for air, "There's…a code."

"Harry, what's the code. You have to tell me it," Spidey said, desperate. The virus was beginning to take its toll on the wall crawler despite his super human stamina and strength. In a few minutes he knew he was going to pass out. He needed to hurry. 

"There are…five digits," the dieing man sputtered, spots of blood speckling his pale lips. Spidey looked on horrified as his old friend continued on barely above a whisper, "They're…1...8...1..." Harry's voice began to taper off as his eyelids slowly slid down.

"Harry, come on. Don't die on me. What're the last two numbers?" Spidey cried as he violently shook the young man in attempt to keep him awake. Less then three minutes left on the timer now. 

"…7..." came a low murmur from between the young Osborn's partially opened mouth. Spiderman could barely make out the number as he strained his ears over the loud cracks of thunder and rain that showered against the Statue of Liberty's green hull. 

"The last number, Harry. What's the last number?" the arachnid begged as he pulled the limp form to him and held Harry's head up weakly in his arms. 

"…Fh…Fh…" was the only sound the came from Harry's mouth as he struggled vainly to pronounce the last digit of the deactivation code. But as Spiderman leaned over the body in his arms and lowered his ear close to his friends mouth, he felt Harry's strength finally give out as the boy drooped in his grasp.

"Five? Four? Harry, what is it?" Spidey cried desperately, rattling the body to bring the boy back. In a way, he knew he was not going to get an answer from his old friend. As he lowered the limp form to rest on the cold cement floor, the web swinger saw Harry's chest still raising and falling, but just barely. His eyes lay tightly closed in pain. A thin trail of watery blood snaked along the creases of the boy's mouth. 

Looking back to the remote in his hand, Spiderman punched in the first four digits of the code. His finger paused in mid air, hovering between the fourth and fifth button on the numbered pad. He really didn't know if he had actually heard what he thought was Harry's final attempts of telling the last number or not. 

The pounding in his head made Spiderman feel as though somebody was playing volleyball with his brain. The room swayed and spun around him in a flurry of motion. There were less then two minutes now. It was now or never. 

"Inney Meaney Minny Mo," he mumbled as he finally brought his pointed finger down onto the five key. Pressing the enter key hurriedly, the battered superhero waited in suspense as the screen was filled by the digitized word 'processing' in bright red swatches. 

Then, as all hope of succeeding dwindled in the wall crawler's heart, the words 'mission aborted' scrolled across the screen of the satellite remote. As he read and reread the words over and over again to make sure he wasn't imagining it, Spiderman almost laughed out loud in triumph. 

"We did it. We did it," he repeated in subdued happiness. As the adrenalin of the moment slowly faded, Spidey felt the searing pain of his mortal body breaking through the buzz of victory. Clenching his middle with both arms, the web swinger tried vainly to suppress the pain of the virus that was still eating away at his body and the throbbing of his bullet wounds which a couple of had been ripped open again in the fight. 

'The anti-virus,' he thought in hope as he plunged a hand into his costume and pulled out the small vial of liquid and the two syringes he had grabbed from the unconscious terrorist leader. In his hurry to disarm the bomb, he had almost forgotten about the antidote. 

Focusing his little remaining energy on the task at hand, Spiderman filled the two syringes half full. He didn't know how much he really needed to take, but it didn't matter. Take too much and he might poison himself with the antidote that was meant to save him. But if he took none, then he would be dead. Simple as that. In a way, it was kind of a lose-lose situation. 

Bending over his still breathing friend who lay on the brink of death beside him on the ground, Spidey gently pushed the sharp needle into Harry's shoulder and emptied the syringe into his body. "Let's just hope his works…" he muttered as he pulled the needle from the young Osborn's arm. 

Poising the last needle over his own up turned arm, Spiderman paused. He hated needles with a passion. He could duke it out with the nastiest super-villains this side of the universe and be beaten to within an inch of his life without even flinching, but needles he hated. He felt a little stupid for his irrational fear, he could remember as a child having to be soothed by his Aunt May before any doctor could get anywhere near him with the sharp object. 

Sucking in a deep breath of air meant to sooth his shaking hand, Spiderman quickly jabbed the point into his flesh and quickly slammed the plunger down until the last of the clear liquid vanished into his body. Throwing the offending medical instrument away from him with the last of his strength, Spidey collapsed to the floor on his side, too weak to keep upright any longer.

The anti-virus burned in his veins like liquid fire as he felt it pump up inside his arm and into his body. Instead of lessening the misery of the effects of the virus, the antidote seemed to intensify it. 

"Oh, God…" Spidey whimpered in pain, "I must have taken it too late." Shutting his eyes tightly against the agony, the wall crawler's jaw clenched shut to stifle the scream that threatened to rip itself from his throat. 

Slowly. Ever so painfully slow, the searing torture tapered away, leaving Spiderman dazed and shivering in shock. As blackness clouded his vision in the misty blanket of on-coming unconsciousness, his body suddenly felt light. 

'Is this what it's like to die?' he wondered as he felt himself slipping gently away into the darkness. It felt so peaceful and surreal. 

Overhead the distant rumble of thunder vibrated through the humid air. The storm seemed to be lifting as the pounding of the rain lessened its attack on the city of New York outside the copper structure. On the other side of the bay of windows, the clouds were beginning to breakup into dark gray patches against the deep purple evening sky. 

Sinking deeper into the shrouding darkness, Spiderman saw the memories of his past flickering like a faded old movie before his mind's eye. Images of his Uncle Ben and Aunt May playing with him as a young child flashed in his head with warm tenderness radiating from them. One of the last things he saw before he became lost to the world, was the pleasant smile of his red haired angel, Mary Jane.

'I'm sorry, MJ. I guess I didn't keep my promise after all,' he thought in passing regret as the last few drops of falling water plinked in dull rounds against the metal hull around him, 'I'm sorry…I love you…' With those as his final words, Spiderman let the painless void take him. 

***********

Golden morning sunlight poured through the windows of the small apartment, bathing everything in the room in a brilliant cascade of radiance. The sky stretched overhead like an endless silk sheet of cobalt blue outside. A soft warmth permeated every corner of place. 

Basking in the warm sunlight, Mary Jane sat contently on the plush couch of Peter's apartment with its owner wrapped protectively in the young woman's hugging embrace. Nestled against her, Peter Parker slouched sleepily in her arms, enjoying the sweet scent of her hair that wafted up to his nose from where her head rested on his chest over his heart. 

Listening to the steady beating of his heart beneath her ear, MJ sighed as she considered just how close she had come to losing him forever. She was careful to avoid the still heavily bandaged middle of his stomach. Between the early morning news and the first hand account she had received from Peter before he had fallen into a deep sleep of exhaustion on the couch when he had miraculously returned several hours ago, the young model had slowly realized just how lucky she had been. 

Before clocking out like a light, Peter had recounted his misadventure to MJ who listened intensely as she fussed over him. Peter had told her of waking up to find that he was not standing in front of the golden gates of heaven, but rather alive and still in the Statue's observation room. Harry and the terrorist leader had still been unconscious when he had awaken and placed a phone call using the young Osborn's cell phone. Afterwards he had promptly fallen unconscious again in a daze, still weak from the anti-virus' effects and his fight, to later awake to find the place crawling with FBI and CDC agents. From there he had been airlifted along with Kathal and Harry to a hospital. 

He still looked sick and would probably take a few more day to get totally back on his feet even with his spider-powers speeding the healing process. Peter's bullet wounds, although having several of them reopened during his crime fighting escapade, were already healing and within two weeks he would probably be good as new and back out in his spider costume protecting the city. 

From above her she could feel Peter stirring to life once again. The last few hours he had been fading in and out of unconsciousness, slowly recovering from the past two days' ordeal. 

Lifting her head off his chest to look in his face she smiled sweetly at him, "Morning again, Tiger. That's the third time in the past four hours. At this rate you may get an eight hour sleep by dinner time." 

Returning MJ's radiant smile, Peter answered sleepily, "I think I'm just too tired to sleep right now. After I get a couple more hours under my belt _then _I'll get some sleep. Then after that, I may take a thirty hour nap." 

As he spoke, he silently marveled in his half-coherent state at the flaming red hair of the woman that held him captive in her arms, the copper tresses seeming to blaze and flicker its own light from the flood of sunlight streaming through the windows on the side of the room. 

Placing her head back onto its resting place on Peter's shoulder, MJ and the young photographer turned their attention to the TV set that quietly hummed across the room. A news reporter talked excitedly on the screen, a small square of video playing over his shoulder showing overhead shots of Liberty Island swarmed with police, FBI, and CDC officials. Reaching over to the TV remote placed on the edge of the couch, Peter turned the volume up several notches.

_"As you can see by the WPXI helicopter shots of Liberty Island, the whole New York area has been flooded by government officials, testing for the deadly virus that had escaped its containment compartment last night during a daring fight between New York's resident superhero, Spiderman, and the terrorists responsible for holding the United States ransom for two days."_

"Late last night, an urgent cell phone call was received by Spiderman alerting FBI and the CDC to the viral bomb that had been discovered in the Statue of Liberty's observation room located in the crown of the copper landmark set out in the upper New York bay. Officials were on the scene shortly after the call was received to quarantine the infected area."

"There, two men were arrested and taken into custody for suspicion of being involved in the terrorist threats against the country. One has already been identified as Harry Osborn, CEO of Oscorp Industries. The other man is yet to be identified but was reported to be of middle eastern decent. Several other men were found dead, victims of the virus that had been accidentally released during the battle between Spiderman and the terrorists." 

"FBI agents were startled to find the wall crawler alive, who had been shot just two days prior to last night's startling turn of events saving the lives of Donald Collins and J. Jonah Jameson, despite rumors of his death in the St. John Hospital assassination attempt on his life the other day. The infected superhero was taken immediately after being found, by a specialized disease control medical team to nearby Manhattan Central Hospital via helicopter as were the other survivors found in the Statue for treatment for their exposure to the deadly virus."

"All survivors were run through multiple tests by members of the Center for Disease Control for signs of the virus, but were found clean. FBI and CDC agents were reluctant to give a full explanation at the time, but there have been reports that a possible anti-virus was found in the Statue. Details are sketchy at the moment, but officials believe that the possible anti-virus was administered to the three men, allowing them to survivor the ordeal."

"After receiving treatment for his exposure to the virus, Spiderman was treated for the bullet wounds he had received the previous night and for other injuries. Doctors are astounded by the superhero as to how he had managed to subdue the terrorists in the condition he was in. Extra Police and FBI protection was set up through the hospital to look over the superhero from another possible attack, allowing only trained medical staff assigned to care for Spiderman in to see him ."

"Unfortunately, the country's heroic wall crawler disappeared during the later part of the night from under the nose of the hospital's staff and protective care. Various reports were given by different hospital staff members and patients of seeing the blue and red clothed superhero web-swinging away from the hospital towards upper Manhattan."

"The other six bombs set to detonate in the other cities as targets for the attacks were found this morning by FBI and were taken to secured viral facilities of the CDC in Atlanta, Georgia. This morning in a national press conference, President Bush issued a formal address of thanks and praise to New York's Spiderman for his actions to protect the country from biological terrorism…"

Hugging Peter tighter in her circling embrace, MJ smiled up at him. On his face, a content grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. Mary Jane knew it was his humble nature that kept the beaming smile that threatened to explode on his face in check.

Craning her neck up, she placed a soft kiss on his cheek. "You did good, kid," she said with pride for her superhero boyfriend. Saying nothing, a look of sorrow passed over Peter's brow-beaten features. 

"What is it?" MJ asked in a whispered tone of confusion.

Looking out the windows on the far side of the room to the bright sunny morning, Peter sat silent as though lost in thought before finally answering, "It's just that I can't help feel guilty about Harry. He was so angry at the world for his father's death, that in a way I caused, he was willing to kill millions of innocent people." 

"Peter, it wasn't your fault that Harry did this," MJ said gently, seeing the look of guilt on his face, "He…I don't know…He just wasn't right in the head. Nothing you could have done could have stopped him from doing this."

"But if I had only been a better friend, he maybe wouldn't have felt the need to do this. He may have had someone to talk to, someone who could have helped him when he needed help the most," the boy responded regretfully. 

Mary Jane sat silent, knowing it was going to take a long time before she was going to be able to convince Peter of his inability to have avoided the recent fiasco from ever happening. Ever since becoming Spiderman, he had come to feel responsible for every terrible thing that ever happened. 

Thinking silently to herself, MJ thought of something that might help Peter move on, "Well, just because you haven't talked to Harry for a long time doesn't mean you never can again. I think Harry may need you more now as a friend then ever before. I think he'll need a real friend while he's in jail." 

A small smile creeped onto the Peter's face at MJ's suggestion. She was right, as usual. There was still time to mend their friend only now between the bars of Rycker Island Penitentiary. Harry was probably going to be put through intensive therapy sessions before he would be released, but Peter already knew there was some glimmer of hope for his friend. In the end, he finally realized he wasn't the cold blooded killer he thought he was and had helped Peter disarm the bombs. There was still hope for Harry, and Peter was going to be there for him to let him know it. 

"What would I do without you?" he asked adoringly as he wrapped his arms around her thin body and planted a feathery kiss onto her forehead. 

"I dread to think…" MJ answered teasingly. Settling into each other's embrace, the young couple sat contently, in total bliss to just be in the other's presence. 

Breaking the soft silence of the room, Peter murmured gently into MJ's ears through the thick waves of her copper hair, "You know, we could stay like this for awhile. I've decided to take a few sick days that have been coming to me from the Bugle."

"Won't Jameson be a little upset of you going AWOL?" MJ asked playfully. Pondering the question, Peter smiled as he lay in the warmth of the sunlight that streamed through opened windows of his apartment. 

"No, I think he has more important things on his mind right now then worrying about where I am…"

*********

Jameson paced briskly behind his desk in the Daily Bugle newspaper office. In his hands he held the Bugle's morning's paper. On the front page in huge block lettering he read with a small snort of disgust the headline: **Spiderman saves New York and US from deadly terrorist virus**. 

Beneath the caption were several pictures of the Statue of Liberty swarmed with government officials and another of the half gutted bomb set in the Statue's observation room. Tossing the paper onto his desk littered with stacks of documents and other miscellaneous papers, Jameson turned to look out the large window of his office overlooking the city laid out before him with a sigh. 

'So you made me look like a fool again, didn't you?' Jameson thought as he stared transfixidly out onto the city that gleamed in the bright morning sunlight, 'The city loves you and even the president has named you a hero. But that's what you really are, aren't you? A true hero. You were so willing to save me and then this whole city without thinking once about yourself…" 

Chewing thoughtful on the end of the cigar balanced between his lips, Jameson continued in his train of thought on the web swinger that had seemed to have become his personal antagonist, 'That's what a hero really is, someone who doesn't think twice about risking his own life for another. But that's why I will always try to bring you down. Because I'm jealous of you for being something I never can be. But all the same, thank you...'

After a moment of silent reflection, Jameson turned back from the sun streaked window as if snapping out of a trance, half disgusted for his momentary softness to look out onto the newsroom spread out on the other side of his office's wall of glass where reporters and writers ran around the areas like a swarm of buzzing bees. 

Stalking over to the opened door, Jameson barked out in his trademark bellow of authority, "Ms. Brant! Get Peter Parker in here now! I want to know why he didn't have any pictures for me this morning of Spiderman and the Statue of Liberty! I have a newspaper to run here! How can anyone expect me to work if I have to wait around for some snot-nosed photographer?" 

As Jameson continued his ranting, the sun slowly made its way in its circular arch over the city as it had done since the beginning of time, warming the jungle of concrete and drying away any signs of rain that had flooded the city for the past two days. Bathed in the sunny light filling the streets, the honking of horns sounded as people slowly made their ways back home, the noise of their presence becoming mingled in the air to other sounds of the repopulating city. It was going to be a beautiful New York city day… 

THE END!!!

It's finished! This is the first story I've completed and I've got to tell you, it feels pretty good! Tell me what you think because I think I have an idea for another Spidey story for the near future. See you the next time around! And thanks to all those who stuck around and read! 

-LAXgirl

P.S. Come on. Even if you totally _abhor _reviewing, humor me in this and tell me what you think. Please? 


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