[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/QLPeQ5j.png?1[/img][/center] [i]Manfredi Ristorante Mulberry Street, Little Italy[/i] [color=Silver]"Little Italy,"[/color] Silvio Manfredi muttered bitterly as he pressed the side of his fork down into his slice of cassata. [color=Silver]"Used to be a time when that name meant something. Tradition mattered here. [i]Family[/i] mattered here. The Morellos, the Genoveses, the Gambinos, the [i]Manfredis[/i]....these were names that had power. That commanded [i]respect[/i]. This place we made our home, and [i]nobody[/i], not the police, not the Mayor, not the Irish or the Pollacks or anyone else, could come into our home and push us around."[/color] He looked around the dimly-lit bistro, as if the speakers playing one of a thousand renditions of 'Santa Lugia' were a fly buzzing around his ears. [color=Silver]"Now look at this place,"[/color] he said, waving his fork in a dismissive gesture. [color=Silver]"A goddamn tourist attraction. Barely anyone left from the Old Country. The whole place has been overrun by gooks and spics and blue-haired fairies. All that tradition, all that history, all it means to them is pasta and opera singers. New York's forgotten what the name Manfredi means."[/color] [color=SteelBlue]"Not all of us forgot, Boss,"[/color] said Joseph Lorenzini, better known to the world as 'Hammerhead.' [color=SteelBlue]"We're loyal to the family, every step of the way."[/color] Silvio glared at him. [color=Silver]"Then why have you let this place degenerate like this? Why did the Maggia kneel and grovel to Wilson Fisk while I was away, and let a bunch of perverts in long underwear take our soldiers off the streets? Why is an animal like Tombstone moving in on our territory? And why, when all I asked for you to do was recover a storehouse we'd lost to the Goblin, do you come here and tell me half a dozen of our guys are in the goddamn emergency room?!"[/color] [color=SteelBlue]"It wasn't our fault, Boss!"[/color] Hammerhead pleaded. [color=SteelBlue]"It was--"[/color] [color=Silver]"The Spider, I know,"[/color] Manfredi cut him off. [color=Silver]"Every other night, it's the same goddamn story. The Spider jumped you. He snapped Dom DeNucci's leg in half. He broke Irerra's back in three places. He turned Minelli's face into goddamn hamburger. An' even after, what, five years? You [i]still[/i] haven't been able to put him down."[/color] [color=SteelBlue]"....it ain't the same Spider,"[/color] Hammerhead muttered, avoiding Manfredi's glare. [color=Silver]"Say that again?"[/color] [color=SteelBlue]"It's true, what the news says about this Venom guy,"[/color] he continued. [color=SteelBlue]"He ain't the same as the Spider I used ta fight. The old Spider, I could hurt him, knock him around. This guy? He does things the old Spider couldn't."[/color] Lorenzini was famous for having nerves of steel, not backing down against even the most terrifying men in the city. Now, though, he was shaking. [color=SteelBlue]"I saw him pick up one of our semis like it was nothin',"[/color] he said. [color=SteelBlue]"He could....I dunno.....make [i]shadows[/i] that reached out an' grabbed you. I got a good angle on him after he took down Gargano, put a round right between his eyes. He didn't even flinch. Just rushed me, threw me halfway across the block. Only reason I ain't dead is 'cause of my, uh, enhancements. Then he just....just disappeared. Like a goddamn ghost."[/color] Silvio sneered. [color=Silver]"You tellin' me Chelsea is [i]haunted[/i] now?"[/color] [color=SteelBlue]"No, Boss, I don't know what the hell it was...."[/color] he said, throwing up his hands. [color=SteelBlue]"I just know I've gone up against the Spider a dozen times. And Venom? He might [i]look[/i] like the Spider, but it ain't him."[/color] Manfredi stared down at his cassata, the sponge cake starting to soak up the maraschino liqueur. The amateurish rendition of 'Santa Lugia' had ended, fading into Rosemary Clooney's 'Mambo Italiano.' The Maggia was once the most feared criminal syndicate in the world, spanning continents and centuries. The world had changed, and men like Wilson Fisk and Lonnie Lincoln had tried to change the nature of the business with it. Silvio felt....obsolete. A relic. A tchotchke for tourists to snap photographs with as part of the 'New York experience.' Like this chintzy bistro and its corny old music. [color=Silver]"This....Venom,"[/color] he said, a poison of his own in his voice. [color=Silver]"He's been spotted one the West Side just about every time he's shown up. Chelsea, the West Village, ESU. That's his turf. His home."[/color] [color=SteelBlue]"....yeah, Boss,"[/color] Hammerhead nodded. [color=Silver]"I want you get everyone we've got,"[/color] Manfredi growled. [color=Silver]"Every hitter, every soldier, every goddamn bookie and numbers-runner. If they can hold a gun, put one in their hands. Venom took from us? We're gonna take from him."[/color] Silvio Manfredi, the once-dreaded 'Silvermane,' stabbed his fork into his dessert and pushed the dish away. [color=Silver]"Tomorrow night? We burn the West Side to the fucking ground."[/color] [hr] [i]Marquee New York 10th Avenue, Chelsea[/i] The whole room pounded with thrumming bass of some electronic dance song whose name she didn't know. Honestly, after a while it all sounded the same anyway, but it was fun. Downstairs on the dance floor, a few hundred of Manhattan's beautiful people sweated and ground against each other to the beat, bodies practically melting into each other from the compact space and the concentrated heat. Looking down on them from one of the upper balconies, Mary Jane Watson sipped from her old-fashioned, grinning as the platinum-haired girl tried not to spill her martini while pointing out a face in the crowd. [color=Beige]"So, your friend Harry,"[/color] Felicia Hardy said with a mischievous look, [color=Beige]"this whole OsCorp thing, it makes him, like.....a billionaire now, right?"[/color] [color=Crimson]"He's already seeing someone,"[/color] MJ said, knowing full well where this was going. Felicia shrugged. [color=Beige]"Since when has that stopped me? You know I like a challenge."[/color] [color=Crimson]"Come on now,"[/color] Mary Jane chided her. [color=Crimson]"Harry's my friend. So's Liz. She's nice. Don't split them up."[/color] [color=Beige]"Sooo, what you're saying,"[/color] Felicia said, her grin turning absolutely wicked, [color=Beige]"is that I should try to get two-for-one?"[/color] Mary Jane laughed, shaking her head. [color=Crimson]"I'm [i]saying[/i] you ought to behave yourself, for once in your life."[/color] The platinum-haired girl gasped, taken aback. [color=Beige]"Why, Mary Jane Watson, how [i]could[/i] you say such things about me? You wound me to the quick!"[/color] The two shared a laugh, before taking a gulp of their respective drinks. Felicia Hardy was an old childhood friend of MJ, separated over time by money and class. The Hardys were a wealthy family, while the Watsons....weren't so much. MJ's mother was an assistant to Felicia's father, and the two girls became fast friends back then. They eventually grew apart thanks to Mary Jane having to live with her aunt and Felicia getting caught up in the life of a Manhattan socialite, but even after several years, they clicked together like they'd never lost a step. Somewhere in there was the plot to a halfway-decent play, MJ thought to herself, no doubt full of lesbian subtext and bold subversions of gender norms or something. Really, she was just happy to have someone she could call her best friend again....especially after losing her previous one a year ago. Felicia nudged Mary Jane with her elbow, gesturing to a pale, skinny boy in a black suit, hovering awkwardly at the far end of the balcony. [color=Beige]"Jack Skellington over there has been side-eyeing you all night,"[/color] she said. [color=Beige]"Want me to go mess with him so he'll go away?"[/color] [color=Crimson]"Hm?"[/color] MJ glanced around, then her eyes lit up with recognition. [color=Crimson]"Oh! No, that's Pete. I actually wanted to talk to him tonight."[/color] [color=Beige]"Ohhh, so [i]that's[/i] the infamous Peter Parker,"[/color] Felicia nodded. [color=Beige]"Your old boyfriend from high school I've heard so much about?"[/color] [color=Crimson]"We went out on one date; he was never my 'boyfriend,'"[/color] MJ corrected her. [color=Crimson]"And you've met him before. A couple of times."[/color] Felicia shrugged. [color=Beige]"Must not have been that interesting. Well, you go set off some sparks with your old flame. I'm going to hit the dance floor and see what kind of trouble I can cause."[/color] MJ rolled her eyes as Felicia strutted towards the staircase, exaggerating the swing of her hips to catch more attention. Downing the rest of her drink, Mary Jane put her glass down on the nearest table, and started nudging and dodging her way through the crowd towards the skinny boy who was trying hard to pretend not to notice her. [color=Crimson]"Hey there, Tiger,"[/color] Mary Jane said, pulling on Pete's sleeve. For a split-second, something about the fabric felt...off, like she'd grabbed a handful of pudding, but she dismissed it as the last couple of drinks finally kicking in. [color=Crimson]"My friend tells me you've been creeping on me all night, you creeper."[/color] [color=Red]"Oh, um, hey, MJ,"[/color] Peter Parker stammered, trying to collect himself. [color=Red]"I didn't-- I mean, I was hoping I could--....okay, lemme start over--"[/color] [color=Crimson]"God, you're easy to mess with,"[/color] MJ laughed. [color=Crimson]"Seriously, it's good to see you. We haven't gotten to hang out in ages."[/color] [color=Red]"I, yeah, I haven't been getting out much,"[/color] Pete said, nervously looking away. [color=Red]"I mean, you know I was never much of a party guy, and then, just.....look, I don't wanna be a downer, I should probably just--"[/color] [color=Crimson]"It's okay, Pete,"[/color] she reassured him, putting her hand on his shoulder. [color=Crimson]"I miss her too."[/color] Peter was the first person Mary Jane had met after moving across town to live with her aunt, who in turn was friends with Pete's aunt and had conspired to set them up on a blind date. He'd always been nervous, geeky, and constantly down on himself, but he was also one of the kindest--and most interesting--people she'd ever met. He was never short on corny jokes or witty observations, and practically broke his back helping his aunt get by without his uncle around. And it was through him that she'd met Gwen Stacy, who would eventually become one of her best friends--not to mention the best drummer that the lead singer of a shitty garage punk-rock band could have asked for. Mary Jane couldn't have been happier when after months of encouragement, Gwen and Pete finally wound up together. It killed her to see Pete like this, though. He'd always had a sadness underneath his jokes and snark, from losing his uncle and from being an outcast at school. After Gwen died, though, he was like a ghost of himself, not talking to anyone, barely even leaving his room. She'd been worried for a long time that he was going to do something terrible, either to himself or to someone else.... She'd never said it out loud, but Mary Jane knew that Peter had secrets that he'd kept to himself--and not just a surprisingly nice body that he usually hid under dumpy clothes. The summer after graduation, they had all spent the day at Coney Island when a crazed super-villain calling himself 'Doctor Octopus' started rampaging through the park. And just when Pete had suspiciously gone missing, Spider-Man showed up to save the day. Gwen more or less confirmed it herself not long after, accidentally letting a few things slip while talking about things she'd discovered while interning at OsCorp. MJ knew why Pete had been destroying himself for the past year-- and why Spider-Man was suddenly nowhere to be found-- but she never quite knew how to approach the subject. [color=Crimson]"C'mon,"[/color] she said, taking Pete's hand. [color=Crimson]"It's quieter up on the rooftop, and the bartender up there mixes better drinks. Let's catch up."[/color] [color=Red]"Yeah, I'd, erm, I'd like that,"[/color] said Pete, smiling nervously as she led him towards the stairs. [hr] [i]The [u]Daily Bugle[/u] The Flatiron Building, corner of 5th Ave, Broadway, and East 22nd St[/i] [color=BlueViolet]"All due respect, sir, I think this is bullshit."[/color] [color=Gold]"That doesn't sound very respectful,"[/color] J. Jonah Jameson said, not even looking up from his paper as Eddie Brock paced back and forth in front of his desk. [color=Gold]"We've already had this conversation, Brock."[/color] [color=BlueViolet]"I know, sir, I just....I can't live with myself if I don't fight this,"[/color] Eddie said. [color=BlueViolet]"These photos, we don't know their source, we can't trust them. I mean, the 'Sin-Eater?' We don't know anything about him! All he's said is he 'exposes the sins of the City' like he's some kinda hero, but he could just be some prankster for all we know!"[/color] [color=Gold]"That didn't stop you from using his leads on the Jack-O-Lantern story,"[/color] Jameson remarked, turning the page. [color=Gold]"If you're worried about it sinking your reputation, that ship's already sailed."[/color] [color=BlueViolet]"It's not about that!"[/color] Eddie protested. [color=BlueViolet]"It's about....it's about her. And about Pete. They were my friends. If he sees this....it'll kill him, sir."[/color] [color=Gold]"Parker....hrmph,"[/color] Jameson snorted. [color=Gold]"You wouldn't even have this job if he hadn't quit. Always liked his spirit. He knew that the story came [i]first[/i], that you didn't let your feelings get in the way of the truth. You'd know that too if you were half the newsman he was."[/color] Eddie's fists clenched at that remark. This got the [i]Bugle's[/i] editor to glance up from his paper and look Brock in the eye. [color=Gold]"We're running the story in the morning,"[/color] he said, putting up a hand to stop any outbursts. [color=Gold]"[i]But[/i], since you're his friend.....I'll let you tell him first. Break it to him easy; kid's been through enough as it is."[/color] [color=BlueViolet]"....thanks..."[/color] Brock muttered. [color=Gold]"I'm sorry, thank you [i]what[/i]?"[/color] [color=BlueViolet]"...thank you, [i]sir[/i]."[/color] [color=Gold]"That's better. Now get going; I've got a paper to run."[/color] [hr] [color=LimeGreen]"I've gotta admit, I'm....a little nervous,"[/color] Harry Osborn said as the doors to the private VIP room back in the upper tiers of the night club. [color=LimeGreen]"I've never really done something like this before. I'm...kinda worried we'll get caught. Liz thinks I'm in the bathroom, so--"[/color] [color=LightSalmon]"Don't worry,"[/color] the slender, well-built young man lounging on the couch in front of him said. [color=LightSalmon]"I've had a couple of high-profile clients before. Trust me: I know how to keep a secret."[/color] [color=LimeGreen]".....cool,"[/color] Harry said, letting out a sigh of relief. [color=LimeGreen]"I don't know what would happen if this got out, but--"[/color] [color=LightSalmon]"It's okay,"[/color] the other man said, standing and unbuttoning his shirt as he approached. [color=LightSalmon]"There's nobody watching. Everyone's having a good time down there. Up here, it's just you....and me...."[/color] Feeling the man's hand slide up his chest, Harry took a step back. [color=LimeGreen]"It's just....I don't know, it feels kind of....wrong, having to pay for it,"[/color] he said, starting to blush. [color=LightSalmon]"Hey, you're paying for everyone else to have a good time tonight. Why shouldn't you pay to treat yourself a little, too?"[/color] [color=LimeGreen]"Yeah....you're right,"[/color] he nodded. [color=LimeGreen]"Umm, can you do something for me? It's a little weird, but..."[/color] The young man tittered. [color=LightSalmon]"I can do weird, believe me."[/color] [color=LimeGreen]"All right, then,"[/color] Harry said, opening up his jacket and fumbling for something inside. [color=LimeGreen]"Then, ummm.....can you wear this for me?"[/color] Pulling something red from his jacket pocket, Harry handed it over to the shirtless young man, who raised an eyebrow, then grinned. [color=LightSalmon]"Whatever works for you,"[/color] he said, pulling the Spider-Man mask on over his face. [color=LightSalmon]"Now, what do you--"[/color] The young man's world exploded into stars and patches of color, with barely any time to register the pain of Harry's fist cracking across his jaw before everything went black. [hr] The cold night air is a welcome change to the stuffy, oppressive heat from inside the night club. The music is less obnoxious, the partygoers a few scattered handfuls of friends and couples having conversations of their own instead of aggressively dry-humping each other vaguely in time with the beat. And the present company certainly doesn't hurt. MJ and I have been talking for the better part of an hour, catching up on what we've been doing lately. Mary Jane's gone into business management because it's more sensible, but chances are she's going to change her major again. She auditioned with the drama department and got cast as Lady Macbeth, and rehearsals are going well she guesses. Her aunt just had to have the ceiling of her bathroom fixed after some old water damage caused a hole to bust through, to which I said I could have come fix that and saved her some money, but she didn't want to impose..... It's been nice. I haven't really been able to just hang out and talk with anyone in a good long while. Harry's always either with Liz or in meetings at OsCorp. All the other people in my classes look at me like they're waiting for me to jump in front of a train or something. Even Aunt May treats talking to me like defusing a bomb, afraid she might say the wrong thing and set me off. So to be able to just make some small talk about nothing in particular with someone I like, it's been...well, I needed this. [color=Crimson]"Do you watch baseball?"[/color] Mary Jane asks, changing the topic with a surprising sense of urgency. I shrug. [color=Red]"It was really never my thing, but Uncle Ben was a big Mets fan, so I watched it with him every once in a while. Why, do you?"[/color] She shrugs back. [color=Crimson]"I was a real tomboy back when I was little."[/color] I raise an eyebrow, giving her a skeptical look. [color=Crimson]"Shut up, I was,"[/color] She says with a laugh. [color=Crimson]"Anyway, my dad took me to a Mets game when I was about eight. It's one of the only good memories I have of him. At that game, the Mets have this pitcher named Koo Dae Sun. He's a relief pitcher from South Korea. And, okay, you know how pitchers normally don't hit?"[/color] I nod, assuming that's true. [color=Crimson]"Well, yeah, they normally have a pinch hitter go up to bat for them. Anyway, this pitcher, Dae Sun, he's never actually been up to bat in his entire career. He'd been playing in South Korea and Japan for years, but he's never been up to bat. But for whatever reason, the coach decides to send Dae Sun up to the plate instead of sending in the pinch hitter. It's his first at-bat ever, and he's going up against [i]Randy Johnson.[/i]"[/color] The reference goes sailing right over my head, so MJ elaborates for my benefit. [color=Crimson]"He's got the second-highest strikeout record in the history of the sport. Five Cy Young Awards. He's an absolute monster on the mound. And Koo Dae Sun is pretty much just being led to the slaughter. The coach tells him to just stand there, let Johnson strike him out. There's no outs and no one on, so it doesn't matter much. He just needs to stand there and take it."[/color] Mary Jane looks me dead in the eye, as if what she's saying is the most important thing in the world. [color=Crimson]"At the 1-1 pitch, Koo decides, I guess just for a laugh, that he's going to swing. He hits it all the way back to the fence. If the wind had been on his side, it would've been a home run. But he gets a good solid double. The next guy bunts to put Koo on third, but Koo decides he's going to just keep running. He rounds third, slides into home, and scores. At his first at-bat, against Randy Johnson."[/color] [color=Red]"That's....that's a pretty cool story,"[/color] I say, not really getting the point. [color=Crimson]"Well, that's not the end of it,"[/color] she says. [color=Crimson]"The thing is, he's wearing a windbreaker jacket, and in his jacket pocket there's an extra ball that he'd forgotten about. When Koo slides into home, he lands on that ball and injures himself. The injury's bad enough that he has to call it a career. Koo Dae Sun never plays another game of baseball in his life."[/color] I look at her quizzically. [color=Red]"So....he shouldn't have done it, right?"[/color] [color=Crimson]"The point is this,"[/color] she says, again looking me in the eye. [color=Crimson]"When Koo Dae Sun thinks about his career, do you think he thinks about the time he made a stupid mistake and got hurt? Or do you think he thinks about the time he went up to plate, swung at a ball he could have let pass him by, and scored on one of the greatest pitchers to ever play the game?"[/color] Those piercing green eyes of hers stare right into mine, like she's searching for an answer in my very soul. [color=Red]"Mary Jane......what's this really--"[/color] [color=BlueViolet]"Pete!"[/color] a familiar voice calls out, breaking our stare. [color=BlueViolet]"Pete, hey, I've, um....I've been looking for you. We need to talk."[/color] [color=Red]"Eddie?"[/color] I look and see a disheveled and sweat-soaked Eddie Brock making his way towards us. [color=Red]"Yeah, what's up?"[/color] [color=BlueViolet]"It's....well, I--"[/color] Eddie struggles with the words before looking to Mary Jane. [color=BlueViolet]"MJ, do you mind if--"[/color] [color=Crimson]"Not at all,"[/color] she says coldly before walking off towards the bar. They dated briefly our senior year. It...ended badly. [color=Blueviolet]"Pete, I know we haven't exactly been close for a while,"[/color] Eddie says, [color=BlueViolet]"but something's come up. You're not gonna want to see this, but, well, you deserve to know first."[/color] I look at him, puzzled. [color=Red]"What are you talking about?"[/color] [color=BlueViolet]"At the [i]Bugle[/i], we've got this.....this contact, right?"[/color] he says. [color=BlueViolet]"He sends us leads on insider information. Scandals, dirty secrets, that sort of thing. Most of it's tabloid junk, but sometimes it's something big. And, well...."[/color] [color=Red]"Eddie, I'm done with the [i]Bugle[/i], I'm not gonna--"[/color] [color=BlueViolet]"Pete, just....look, I tried to stop this,"[/color] he pleads. [color=BlueViolet]"I [i]begged[/i] Jonah not to run it. But you know how he gets when he sees a big story. He's gonna run these in tomorrow's edition. I just thought....I thought you should know what's coming. Just.....look at these."[/color] He hands me his phone, and on the screen is a set of photos. It takes me a second for my brain to process what I'm seeing. [color=Red]"This is.....no...."[/color] I stammer. [color=Red]"This can't--......I don't--.....what's--"[/color] I drop the phone out of my hands, fighting back the urge to vomit. I push past Eddie, knocking him to the concrete as I run for the door, everything and everyone ceasing to be real. This [i]can't[/i] be real. I'm having another nightmare, another horrible delusion. I have to get away from this, to wake up, to do anything to burn out of my mind what I just saw. Those pictures.....they're pictures of Gwen. Of her....with Norman Osborn. As I shove my way out of the club, I stumble into a nearby alley....and I let it all go black.