Several black cars with tinted windows, of the Mercury Grand Marquis
model, slowly pulled up to the abandoned warehouse resting before the
ocean front. A final black limousine followed behind them just before
coming to a stop along with the convoy of vehicles. Dozens of men in
black dress suits and trench coats began to pile out of the vehicles
and the limousine, but one of the doors remained shut.
It wasn't until the driver of the limousine stepped out of the vehicle
and walked back to the door and opened it for one of the occupants. In
a pinstriped navy blue dress suit, the notorious crime lord known as
Hammerhead stepped out of the limousine and began buttoning up his
jacket, his eyes surveying the area that he and his bodyguards had
just arrived in. Secure in his surroundings, he nodded to one of his
bodyguards and then motioned for the warehouse they had just pulled up
by.
With only minor chit chat among some of his men, Hammerhead and the
contingent moved towards the main entrance of the weary and ramshackle
of a warehouse.
"After you, Mr. Hammerhead," a bodyguard who had been waiting at the
door insisted, holding the door open for his boss. Hammerhead nodded
to him as he passed by and walked into the warehouse, followed by his
army of bodyguards.
Standing in the middle of the warehouse, right before a large group of
youths and gang bangers united under the Hobgoblin's command, was a
familiar albino face. The man stood at nearly a towering seven feet
high, wearing a pair of boots, military fatigues, and a tight black
T-shirt that accented his bulking arm, shoulder, and chest muscles.
His towhead hair was cut in a flat top and something about the
appearance of his skin made him appear dense and impenetrable.
Hammerhead wouldn't forget that face, or even that body for that
matter, anywhere.
"Lonnie!" he said, his voice a mix of surprise and "I didn't expect to
see you here. I take it that this Hobgoblin character's got you
negotiating the peace, eh?"
Lonnie Thomson Lincoln, otherwise known as the mob enforcer known as
Tombstone, simply grinned from ear to ear in response to Hammerhead's
words.
"Something like that, Mr. Hammerhead," he replied smugly. Before
Hammerhead could respond, several of the street thugs surrounding
Tombstone retrieved pistols, submachine guns, and in some cases even
shotguns from holsters, from the belts along the small of their backs,
and from under underneath jackets.
"What the -- !" Hammerhead gasped as his eyes widened in shock. Before
he could finish his sentence, two of his bodyguards pushed him to the
ground and rushed in front of him, their weapons already drawn and
firing hot lead at their attackers. Hammerhead groaned, "Ambush! It's
an ambush!"
Gunfire erupted from both sides, with dozens of Hammerhead's
bodyguards and a handful of his lieutenants drawing weapons of their
own and entering the fray. It was obvious that the Hobgoblin had
betrayed his and his people's trust, and if he vowed that when he got
out of the massacre alive that every family in New York would know of
such treachery, and that would be it for the Hobgoblin's empire before
it even began.
Two bodyguards rushed to Hammerhead's side as the bullets whizzed by
their heads and riddled the wall behind them, and several other
bodyguards falling by the moment as automated weapon fire blew off
chunks of their bodies. Blood was splattering everywhere and the cries
of wounded men filled the air.
"C'mon, Mr. Hammerhead!" one of the bodyguard's yelled as the two took
hold of his shoulders, covering him with their bodies and guiding him
away from the firefight. "We gotta get you out of here before - AGH!"
The bodyguard yelped out in pain as several bullets drove themselves
into his back, blood spraying from the wounds as he collapsed to
Hammerhead's side.
"You fuckin' backstabbing piece of shit!" Hammerhead cursed over all
of the commotion as the second bodyguard continued guiding him towards
the exit of the warehouse, leaving the first bodyguard for dead.
"Tombstone! Tombstone I'm comin' for you!"
When the two reached the door, the bodyguard moved behind Hammerhead's
back to ensure that he was covered as they exited. When Hammerhead
pushed through the door and charged outside, he was blinded by several
lights flashed on him, and the accents of blue and red swirling across
the area.
"NYPD, FREEZE!" several of the police officers yelled in unison from
behind the open doors of their cruisers and squad cars, their handguns
and shotguns trained on the mob boss. "HANDS IN THE AIR! GET ON THE
GROUND!"
Hammerhead's eyes widened and his heart nearly skipped a beat as he
saw the warehouse was surrounded by dozens of police cars and S.W.A.T.
vans, all with officers using the vehicles as cover as they drew their
weapons on the him and his sole bodyguard. The yells from the officers
kept flowing, ordering them both to stand down as gunfire and screams
continued to fill the air just behind the two
And as he and his bodyguard raised their hands to the air, Hammerhead
realized something. He didn't just have his faith betrayed by the
Hobgoblin and he wasn't just ambushed by one of his ex-enforcers
leading a mob of thugs.
He was set up...
MARVEL 2000 PRESENTS...
"NATIONS OF GODS AND
EARTHS"
Part III:
Just No Honor Among Crime Lords These Days...
"Nah, she isn't allergic to Gerber baby food," Peter Parker said as he
stepped around the modest dining island in the kitchen of his apartment,
a telephone wedged between the side of his face and his shoulder.
"Contemporary pop just has that effect on her. Try putting on some '80s
- she absolutely loves Toto."
As Peter tried to assemble the essentials of a bacon club on the dining
island and listen to Betty Brant's heckling of his and his daughter's
taste in music, there was a knock at the front door of his apartment.
"Hey, that guest I was talking about is here," Peter said into his end
of the phone as he dropped his sandwich on the counter and promptly
moved across the short distance of his apartment to its front end.
"Thanks again for all of the help, Betty. Finding a pro bono
babysitter's tough these days, eh? Bye!"
Taking the portable phone from his ear and hitting a button on its face,
Peter set it down on an end table near the front of his apartment. Once
he reached the door it was the click, clack, and shlink of three
separate locks, and a twist of the doorknob that revealed his caller.
Leaning with her shoulder against the doorway was Felicia Hardy, dressed
in a rather professional pair of black heels, black slacks, a white
blouse, and a violet jacket. She had a rather unimpressed look across
her face, as if her mood had been particularly diminished emotionally by
having to make the trip over, but Peter didn't let the obvious stop him
from trying to get a rise out of her.
"Oohh, someone got my message," he said playfully as he hunched his brow
at her. "Kitty wanna play tonight?"
"You're not as cute you think, Spider," Felicia explained half-heartedly
as she stood up straight and sauntered through the front door, passing
Peter on her way into the apartment but never quite making eye contact
with him.
"Don't gotta tell me, lady," Peter said, holding up his hands and
shaking his head at her. "My track record speaks for itself, but that's
not why we're here."
"I take it you've been following the news, then?" Felicia asked,
crossing her arms. "Did you see the Bugle's editorial, too?"
"Oh yeah, never miss an edition," Peter remarked with the roll of his
eyes. "Ol' Chuckle Face's vendetta against masks may blind him a lot of
the time, but his journalists' instinct is usually right on the money
when it comes to the criminal underworld."
"So, if Jameson's right about Hammerhead's take down then there's likely
a power vacuum out on the streets," Felicia thought aloud, putting a
hand to her chin and stroking it slightly. She nodded and looked up to
Peter. "Okay then. We knew this day was coming, so my money's on the
Hobgoblin moving in on it and the confusion in the ranks of Hammerhead's
organization."
"Agreed, and after that big slaughterfest the other night he's probably
at his most vulnerable to boot," Peter added before putting his hands on
his hips and furrowing his brow. "I think we can bring Gobbles in
without much trouble, but how do we find him?"
"I am a private detective, aren't I?" Felicia asked
rhetorically as she waved Peter back towards the door to his apartment,
already moving towards it. "Let's just say that I've been doing my
homework and calling in a few favors..."
"Alrighty then," Peter said as he followed behind her. "Let's giddy up,
sexy mama!"
Police Plaza,
New York City, New York.
It wasn't long after they had left Peter's apartment that Felicia and
him were able to make it to the police station where Hammerhead and many
of his men was being held - more particularly a free interrogation room.
Hammerhead and his men had just been arrested the night before and
hadn't yet been transferred to the county jail for holding until trial.
Though his steel alloy skull and mental instability made him a
formidable foe under some circumstances, getting him in particular to
the Vault wasn't a priority just yet.
Felicia made it a point to sit at the table in the center of the room,
but Peter was curiously examining the cracks and layers of grim that
lined the room's walls. There was then a sudden knock at the door,
catching the two's attention, and then the door opened with a pair of
police officers marching in Hammerhead. He was dressed in an orange
uniform, his hands and feet were in shackles of sorts, and he harbored a
bewildered expression on his face as he looked at the two occupants of
the room.
The police had taken extra precautions with Hammerhead with the
shackles, but it wasn't any more then they would give the average man
prone to violent outbursts. Taking their leave, an officer nodded to
Felicia before the two turned away from Hammerhead and stepped out of
the room, shutting the door behind them.
"The guards said my attorney was sending some people over to talk with
me," Hammerhead said as he slowly walked towards the table that the
unknown woman and man were standing at, moving around towards the
opposite side of them. "That's you two, right? You're here to help with
my defense?"
"Sort of," Felicia said as she stood up and reached a hand out to
Hammerhead. He reached back and the two shook hands, Felicia with a
smile. "My name's Felicia Hardy and this is my associate, Adrian. We're
private investigators with the Cat's Eye."
"I see..." Hammerhead said as he retracted his hand, a bit unnerved at
the prospect. His eyes moved over to the man she introduced as her
associate, who was already moving towards him to shake his hand.
"Hey," Peter - 'Adrian' to Hammerhead - greeted him
enthusiastically, having walked across the tiny room to also shake the
man's hand. "Pen treatin' ya well?"
"Yeah..." Hammerhead said with a firm brow as he shook Peter's hand
reluctantly, taken aback by the supposed private investigator's
ambitious behavior. "Not so well that I wouldn't want an early check
out, though, you know what I mean?"
"We know exactly what you mean, Mr. Hammerhead, and that's why Harold
sent us over," Felicia said as she motioned for him to take a seat,
seemingly understanding of his predicament, and so they sat. "You
believe you were set up, correct?"
"Believe? I damn well know for a fact!" Hammerhead said in a
matter of fact tone, then took a deep breath, preparing for a tangent.
"This overgrown trick or treater guy calls up me and my boys and says he
wants to talk business, then says he's gonna gut us all the moment we
show up!
"Being the superstitious man I am, I had brought my bodyguards along
with us and they made the first move to defend ourselves. Then suddenly
sirens are goin' off in all directions, and bam. It's all on the news
thanks to some security camera that none of us saw comin' in."
"You two were going to talk business," Peter said plainly, catching
Hammerhead's attention. "What kind of business?"
"Business. What else do you frickin' need to know?" Hammerhead
said with a hardened glare in his eye, as if he were trying to tell
Peter to get the hint or else. "That's what I am - a businessman
- and that's what he aims to be. So, it was just supposed to be
business."
Peter leaned back into a nearby wall and crossed his arms, a glare in
his eyes. Hammerhead wasn't stupid enough to know that private
investigators don't fall under attorney client privilege, and even if
they did he wouldn't risk any exposure come trial if his defense decided
it was more appropriate to go with other tactics.
"So do you think he was trying to exploit the rumors that you're a mob
boss so that the police would have no question of your guilt?" Felicia
asked, actually leading Hammerhead's explanation as to gain his trust
and cooperation. "So that they'd take things the wrong way, so to speak,
and with you in prison the person behind this 'Hobgoblin' get up could
find a way to... let's say 'buy out' your businesses?"
"Exactly," Hammerhead said with conviction. He looked to Peter and
jabbed a thumb in Felicia's direction. "She's a smart lady, y'know? Take
some notes from her."
"My sensei," Peter said with half-hearted admiration. Felicia knew that
she was going to have to get him for being a smartass after this, but
for the moment she simply pressed on with the discussion with
Hammerhead.
"I think that I fully understand your situation now, Mr. Hammerhead,"
Felicia stated as a matter of fact. "But I'm going to need your help
with this investigation," she insisted and Hammerhead nodded slightly,
but didn't quite know what she was getting at. "Knowing what you know
about this business rival of yours, where should we begin looking for
any evidence, witnesses, or information that may help clear you?"
Hammerhead paused, considering her question. He then looked around for a
moment, making sure that the guards or no one else were listening in too
intently, and then he leaned across the table towards Felicia and asked,
"How about the goddamn nutcase's base of criminal operations?"
"Criminal operations, huh?" Peter chimed in before Felicia could
respond, raising a suspicious brow. "You know for a fact that he's a
crime lord then?"
"A wanna-be crime lord's more like it," Hammerhead replied, bemused,
with a bit of a hearty chuckle. He noticed that Peter's stare
intensified and Felicia merely smiled in response, and so he forced
himself quiet and cleared his throat. "Err, let's just say that... he
offered a couple of my bodyguards jobs with him."
"That's quite bold of him," Felicia commented and Hammerhead nodded,
going on to continue to explain how he came across such information.
"He confessed to what he was pretty openly, but they refused,"
Hammerhead said, shrugging to himself slightly as if it were that
simple. Felicia knew that lies often were. "Despite some viscous rumors,
not me or any of my boys touch this... this type of element... and we're
not about to start."
"You're legitimate then," Peter said, narrowing his eyes.
"It was even a question?" Hammerhead growled, obviously irritated by
Peter's comments. He looked to Felicia and motioned towards Peter with
his shackled hands. "Who the fuck is this guy?" he asked, shaking his
head. "Cocky son of a bitch."
"Okay, sorry, sorry," Peter said as he raised a hand and dropped his
head down slightly, nodding to both Felicia and Hammerhead. "I'll shut
up."
"About damn time..." Hammerhead grumbled to himself as he reached for a
pen on the table and began to jot down something on the piece of paper.
"Anyway, my bodyguards remembered the address of this place, so here it
is," he said quite bluntly and handed her the paper. "You'll want to
start here."
"Thank you, Mr. Hammerhead," Felicia said, graciously taking the piece
of paper from his hand and looking it over. "This should help your
defense and our investigation out a lot," she added, extending a hand
out to his as she began to stand up to leave. Hammerhead took her hand
and shook it firmly, nodding to her. "We'll be in touch."
Police Plaza Rooftop,
New York City, New York.
"Okay, that's twenty bucks and Chinese dinner later on," Peter said as
he and Felicia stepped out onto the roof of the local police station
from the stairwell's exit. "Your P.I. license and connections
definitely beat my old Bugle press pass."
"Ever consider going in the field with me, Spider?" Felicia said with
a playful grin and wink. Peter cocked his head to the side and puffed
out his lip, thinking about it. "If you could get over the whole
alienating the informant thing, then I bet we'd make one hell of a
duo."
"Nah," Peter said, shaking his head as he gripped his sweater and
pulled it over his head, revealing his bright red and blue costume
underneath. "Unless there's microbiology and biochemistry on the
licensing exam then no thanks," he said as he dropped the sweater to
the ground and began unbuckling his pants. "I've got myself what looks
like a free ride from here on out, college wise, and wooo mama, am
I riding that gravy train home."
"Whatever you say," Felicia said as she walked towards a blocky
ventilation fan, one large enough for her to change behind, and she
slipped behind her. "Forensic pathology was never my thing, but nerds
like you gotta play to your strengths, yeah?"
"You know, I never actually considered that before..." Peter commented
as he finished taking off his shoes and the rest of his clothes. He
webbed it all together in a neat and tidy sack, then pulled on the
gloves and mask of his costume, completing his transformation into the
Amazing Spider-Man. "Okay! So now that we've got the address to
Gobby's den of sin, we can get with the cape kickin', right?"
"Not unless you want to get me that Chinese dinner now," Felicia
called out from behind the ventilation fan, but when she stepped out
from behind it she was in her black body suit and mask, two metallic
gauntlets of sorts around her wrists, and her leather backpack hanging
off of a shoulder. She was the Black Cat.
"I don't know about you, but super-heroics and mandarin chicken?"
Spider-Man said as he approached his partner in crime that
evening. "Totally equals cramps."
"Dork," the Black Cat quipped and she pulled the backpack up over her
other arm, securing it snugly around her shoulders. "Okay, Chinese
after butt kicking."
"Rock on, malady," Spider-Man remarked as he turned away from her and
looked out towards the sunset rising above the city's various
skyscrapers, slowly walking along with her towards the roof's
edge. "Now that we're on the same page..."
Before Spider-Man could finish his thought, the Black Cat directed her
arm towards the nearest rooftop and flexed his wrist, firing a
grappling hook at its ledge and securing a line. Likewise, Spider-Man
pressed two fingers against a device in the palm of his hand, firing a
web line out towards a similar building and snagging the side of it.
"Onward and upward, my fair kitty!" he yelped mock-gallantly as the
two tugged on their respective modes of transport and leapt off the
ledge of the police station, swinging through the skyline as
Spider-Man chanted, "We're off to stop the evil criminal empire,
the woefully evil criminal empire of Oz!"
TO BE CONTINUED...
AUTHOR'S
NOTES
Just giving you all a head's up. Unfortunately, some really crazy shit's
going on in Adnan Khan's life at the moment and he was forced to step
down. Everyone give him your best wishes if you can because he's really
going to need them right now. I promised him that I would wrap up his
lingering story over here in Amazing Spider-Man and I apologize if what
I have in mind for a conclusion's not quite what Adnan was going for,
but I hope that it'll be enjoyable nonetheless.
I don't think that this issue is bad, per se, but it definitely is a
change of tone from what Adnan was going with and that may rub some of you the wrong way. I'll try to make it to all of his plots come next issue, especially
including Smiling Stevens, J. Jonah Jameson, Foggy Nelson, and possibly a little into Peter's reaction to the death of the boy he rescued last issue. I can't make any promises, but I'll sure try! Thanks all and see ya next issue!
