Halloween used to be my favorite time of year. I always had the best costume no matter what. My dad had a great knack for making the damn things. I’d just tell him what I wanted to be that year, and he’d whip it up in just a few hours. The guy really had some skill. I’d be the envy of all my friends at all the parties.

Okay…I didn’t have that many friends, and we never had parties.

And my dad was a super-villain. Not a very successful one, but it at least explains the weird angle with the costumes. (Why couldn’t he just have been gay?)

Look, point is, I’ve never really enjoyed All Hallow’s Eve since costumes are already such a cornerstone of my life.

I’m Eugene Patillo. The formerly fabulous Frog-Man. (That last one was my dad’s name too)

It’s been a few months since I gave up my Frog-Man costume for something my dad couldn’t have thought up in any corner of his petty crook mind.

I’m the Prowler. Heh, ladies step right up.

Things are getting weirder and weirder for the new Prowler in New York these days. Happens every year ‘bout this same time. Sightings of things like ghost riders and living vampires and devil dinosaurs pop up all over the tabloids and the local news. Even Republican approval ratings take a jump. It’s enough to send the Avengers Alert Level to bloody-hell-pink, you know what I mean? All that magical mumbo-jumbo isn’t my style. Makes all this Robin Hood-type breaking-and-entering a little tougher for me.
`
So, in recent years, on Halloween I’ve stayed in the suburbs. Like Yonkers, where my dad lives. Or, if things get really crazy, Albany.

But, this Halloween, the craziest thing happened.

For weeks now I’ve been tracing the movements of Kronas, a corporation which might have only existed on paper for a few months at the time they bought Oscorp out from under Liz Osborn. Little bit after that, they bought Kingsley Limited out from under the Kingsley brothers.

Basically Kronas put the goblins out of business long before Halloween.

Now, aside from the obviously sinister nature of a company that quietly overtakes the corporate empires of convicted criminals, there was something else--the World. I’m not even quite sure what it is myself. There are allusions to it in all the data I’ve taken from the criminal fronts in New York: Mys-Tech, Silvermane, Triune…and they don’t know what it is either. But their weapons are clearly being based on some related network of technology. Only Kronas knows what it is, but I don’t think even they understand it.

But I do know that Kronas just bought the land rights of a Jersey businessman named Dickie Munster. (His last name is pronounced like the cheese, not the television show) Munster owned land in Jersey that was hit hard by the housing crisis. Tenants moved out, businesses closed up shop, and Munster had a bunch of empty buildings. Kronas bought him out, and the next day razed everything to the ground. Now, they’re building up a legitimate American headquarters…like they were here all along.

So I was going to have a little talk with Mister Munster about Kronas. Bad news? It was a long shot. I’ve really got nothing on Kronas at all. Munster might have not known a thing. Good news? I found Munster’s permanent address was in Yonkers!

Which is why, like a good Prowler, I slowly, slyly, and lithely slide upside-down along a grappling cable through the skylight (which has a Prowler-sized hole in it thanks to these glass cutting claws of mine) of his lovely three story Colonial-style home. I couldn’t help but hope Munster’s family wasn’t like the one from that television show…

Actually, I didn’t have to worry. Munster left his wife a few years ago to move in with some co-ed, and that girl left him when he lost all his money September of last year. So the plan was to just scare the bejeezus out of him and keep the conversation brief. Then I could get home and help my dad pass out the candy to the kids.

But I didn’t need the night vision lenses in my mask to see the crumpled heap just to my right in the massive living room. I could see it better the lower I got from the skylight. Eventually, my soles touched the soft, thick, white carpet. The moon shined through the skylight still just above my head and--

Yeah, I knew that guy was dead. No doubt. On his knees, huddling his arms against his chest, leaned forward, face down. The back of his head was splattered all over the carpet between his body and me. The moonlight just made the whole thing look black, body and blood and everything. It was another second before I could move my knees.

But when I did, I went fast. I could feel the adrenaline pumping through me, through my temples. My mouth was thick with spit. I…well, I know I’m still not as comfortable at this as I need to be. As much as I hate telling myself that.

If there’s one thing that I learned from being Frog-Man, it’s that sometimes, you just have to take that first jump, and the rest will come naturally.

So, I was fast. I knew what I had to do, and how to do it. I tried to be as efficient as I was fast--no guarantee though cause I really was not sticking around much longer than I needed to. I pressed a gauntlet against the man’s back, and from the temperature of the body, this guy could only have been dead as long as…less than an hour?!

How is that possible? I would’ve heard something. I would’ve seen something. I was on the roof for…had to be longer than an hour! I was up there doing the Prowler thing for way longer than that. I mean…it totally had to be longer than that.

I spied the small snub-nosed pistol in a corner of the room, near the massive fichus, across from the gaping brick fireplace. Heat sensory lenses showed me it was cold. A closer look revealed that the gun wasn’t even loaded…so its not the murder weapon.

Looking back at the body, I noticed there are little bits of colored paper spread all about the living room, flung around in some kind of mess. I picked up one…candy wrappers. Halloween candy wrappers.

That’s when a crash from behind me almost makes me jump out of my costume.

Light suddenly flooded my frame of vision to the left. (Luckily the mask automatically adjusts for that kind of thing.) At instinct, I released a trigger at my wrist, so my grappling wire immediately retracts. It sent me soaring back to the hole in the skylight. I braced myself there, easily, with little more sound than the wire’s light zip! The hood and cloak absorb light, so I knew I was completely hidden.

Then, he sauntered in. Pudgy, with lean legs. No neck. The eyes were bulbous, perched on the top of his head. They had some kind of eerie, yellow reflection caught in them, like flashy snow globes. He approached the body on bent knees, stretching and retracting them to make wide steps around it. He slowly moved underneath me in a crouch, oblivious to me, and examined the head crater. It was like he didn’t
understand that the goo all over the carpet wasn’t blood and brains.

I couldn’t believe it. I just couldn’t believe it. I knew that guy. This had to be some kind of joke.

Even in the darkness, even with the green of the night vision, I recognized this guy from the second he walked in. The smooth, insulated costume…the fins on the feet…that ridiculous mask. He’s possibly the only guy I know better than myself.

Because it was myself. Or rather--it was the fabulous Frog-Man.

“Dad…?” I squeaked.

That’s when my grappling cable broke. Pigging out on all that damn candy before the holiday really screwed me.

But I fell right on top of him! (We released harmonious ‘OOOF!’s). The way the Frog-Man suit is insulated and reinforced, he slipped to the floor easily, and I almost bounced off him. But I held fast, thanks to my claws. They barely made a real dent in his hide, but it was enough to hold on.

There was a silhouette of his face in the mouth of the giant frog-head mask, but I couldn’t really see him, since, you know, he was freaking out and trying to kick and writhe his way out of my grasp.

“Let! Me! Up!” He was screaming.

Okay, so I definitely knew this guy was definitely NOT my dad. So where the hell did he get this suit?

My throat was ready with my Christian Bale voice. I growled, “Who are you?! What’re you doing here?!”

And what do I get? A jet of water shoots out of his nostrils! Well, not really his nostrils--the nostrils of the mask, you know? Got me right between the eyes, too. I dropped my grip for a second, and he was able to bring his feet up to press against my abdomen. I remember thinking ‘Oh crap…’

I went soaring through the living room, hitting the far wall, and crashing, shattering actually, the massive fichus with the wider part of my ass. But the adrenaline was still running, and I didn’t lose my focus. Frog-Man was up and…not running toward me.

He was making a break for it!

He’s running for the front door, just down the hallway from the living room, to the right. I lifted my gauntlet in his general direction, and let loose a flying bolo from a spring-loaded compartment along my wrist. It hit him right at the knees, dropping him to the carpet with another helpless yelp---

“Gahh-ahhhhh!” (Geez. Admit it, I never sounded like that.)

I jumped over the couch, and the dead body in front of it. With his legs tied, I was thinking it would be enough to hold him. Though at this point in time, it does occur to me that, just like the grappling cables, I don’t really know exactly what Hobie Brown designed his gadgets to withstand…

And just like that, Frog-Man popped the bolo. Like he was stretching nothing but a pair of extra-tight tighty-whities. And he said the damnedest thing too--

“You can’t bind the furious feet of Frog-Man! Where you been, fool?!”

At least, I think that’s what he said. I’m pretty sure that’s what he said. It was some sort of muffled noise from the maw of his mask. And he’s kinda ticking me off at that point in time, but you knew that.

He jumped up to his feet. I launched a smoke pellet from my gauntlet right at the gap in his frog-face. Got him right in the face, or what would have had to be his face.

“Ow!” he screeched.

Smoke erupted from the mouth of the frog-mask. He slumped to the floor. I didn’t expect it to take him out of commission completely, so I took some extra grappling cable, and hog-tied him. Spidey taught me that.

The front door was open ahead of us. Light from the front porch was spilling over us and the bits of candy scattered all the way down the entry hall. I turn Frog-Man over so I can talk to him.

“What are you doing here?!” I tried again.

And what do I get this time? A wad of chewing gum spat in my face!

“Hey, screw you, man!” He yelled, “Go ahead and kill me, man! Kill me like you did Mister Munster! I ain’t scared of you! Come on! You know what? I don’t think you got it in you, man! I think deep down inside you’re just a coward who--”

“Oh shut up!” I can’t take it anymore. “Shut up and tell me where you got this costume.”

“It’s mine! I’m the frivolous Frog-Man!”

So I pulled off his mask--well, its actually more of a big cowl, but you know what I mean. He was bare to his shoulders. And he was just a kid. Wait, okay, not that much younger than me, but still a kid. Still in high school, I’m pretty sure. Smooth face, tangle of brown hair, bit of an acne problem…just a kid, really.

Right then, the dog walks in through the front door.

No, not a dog. That’s not right. It was a dog. Probably. At some point during its existence.

But what was left standing in front of me and Frog-Man--this thing licking and finishing the remains of the candy bucket that Dickie Munster had left on his stoop for children, was something else. Razor sharp teeth bent and scraped together, like each tooth was a rapier. The teeth seemed to extend with every deep rasp it exhaled. It shined black, like it was slicked with oil. It had wide, white eyes, reflecting each bit of light; this thing had no problem in the darkness. The head was merely an elongation of its torso, which in and of itself was as thick as a horse’s. Its legs were massive, each a piston wrapped in slick flesh, churning, part of a larger machine--part of a monster.

“Whoa…” that’s what Frog-Man whispered, “it was true. Mister Munster had a monster…”

“What?” I gasped at him.

He looked at me with wide brown eyes, and licked his lips. He said, “Everyone on the block was always saying things about weird Mister Munster. Like he made deals with people to do science experiments in the apartments he owned. He rented business space to shady companies. And in return, I heard he got to play with monsters…I knew it was true. I had to come here to find out.” He chuckled a little at me. “You…didn’t kill Mister Munster, did you?”

I shake my head.

Frog-Man nodded. “Untie me. I need to get this on my camera phone. Or my friends will never believe me.” He whispered. I ignored him.

That’s when the monster looked at us.

Of course, I thought it was a monster at first too. I don’t blame the kid for thinking it was a monster either. But, you know…but something gave it away.

A gnashing, slimy, foot-long tongue.

I’ve only seen pictures of a beast like this. And I’ve been told the stories. Told firsthand by Peter Parker--the Amazing Spider-Man--the one guy who’s tangled with these things more than anyone else.

A symbiote. This thing was clearly a symbiote. Bonded to a Doberman. Or something. On steroids. And it was looking right at us. Licking its lips.

Everything suddenly clicked in my mind. I flashed back to Munster’s corpse in the living room. The way his head was spilled out…like a squashed melon. A half-eaten melon. I didn’t even time to think about how Munster got this thing…did he get it from Kronas? Great…there was only one thing I could do now…

I sling Frog-Man over my back and make a mad dash for the living room. My feet don’t make a sound against the floor, but the symbiote-dog is howling after me, seconds from leaping for Frog-Man. Of course, Frog-Man is screaming right in my ear all the way.

I dive, Frog-Man and all, over the couch, right next to the corpse, and roll, letting Frog-Man break my fall, getting to my feet right where the pistol lay, next to the smashed fichus and the big-ass fireplace. I turned--

The creature was already in the air, flying across living room, his tongue flailing around like some kind of viper. His teeth were wide, ready to snap. I raised my gauntlet again, and pressed a tiny button on the underside.

The symbiote-dog suddenly screamed, and flew past me, to crash into the brick fireplace. It writhed there, screaming, swiping its slick pointed paws at its own ears.

I ran back over to Frog-Man and started untying him. “Dude, what did you do?” He asked.

“Dog whistle.” I said simply. “Its standard equipment. You have no idea how many dogs I run into on a nightly basis.” I didn’t tell him this, but symbiotes also have a weakness for sound.

“You must be pretty good at this.” Frog-Man smiled.

I snorted at that. “Yeah…right.”

Now, Frog-Man was back up. He pulled his cowl back on. “Well! We handled that one easily.”

I shook my head. “We need to get out of here.”

“Why? We got the monster crying for his monster mommy.”

“You don’t understand. The tech in my gloves take a lot a power to juice…I don’t really use the dog whistle this long. I don’t know if its gonna run out of power any time soon. I’ve only got it rigged to some AAAA batteries--”

That’s when the monster stopped screaming. It shook its head a little bit, like it was still trying to shake out the cobwebs. Slowly, it started to stand again.

I look at Frog-Man. “Jump.”

“What?” He croaked.

The monster was back on his feet.

“Get us out of here.” I pointed at the broken skylight above us.

The monster saw us. Its tongue was starting to lash again. The teeth spread into a smile.

“I’ve never jumped that high--”

I grabbed him by his cowl. “Are you kidding me?! You’re the fabulous freaking Frog-Man! You can jump ten times as high as this! NOW JUST JUMP!”

The monster jumped, roaring as he did, closing in with the fury of a demon. And just as I thought razor teeth and spiked claws were going to sink deep into my flesh--

I felt the familiar thrill of leaving the Earth. I instinctively raised my chin, judging the skylight above us, barely closing my eyes before the glass pane shattered around me.

I couldn’t help it--“WAAAA-HOOOOO~!!!!”

The howling monster was nothing but a distant echo, and the house we’d leapt from was a mere dot among a tapestry of rooftops. Frog-Man was clinging to me more than I was clinging to him. We came down upon an adjacent rooftop, and he jumped again.

Again. And again. And again. Until we were sure we were safe.

---

We stopped at my dad’s roof. But I didn’t tell him that. “So what’s your name?”

“Michael.” He stuck out his hand. “No, wait! Ace! Call me ‘Ace’! That’s what my friends call me.”

I took his hand and shook it. There was still a weird feeling going through me, just looking at him. I said, “Well…Michael, you mind telling me where a kid like you got that costume?”

Frog-Man slumped. He sat down on the roof, and let out a heave. He said, “You wanna know the truth? I mean, I think I can trust you…since you saved my life and all. And haven’t killed me yet.”

I laughed out loud at him. “I’m called the Prowler, kid. I borrowed my suit from a pretty smart guy.”

He laughed at that. “Well…my dad’s a cop, and he bought this suit for me two weeks ago at a police auction.” He kept laughing.

However, I suddenly didn’t feel like laughing anymore. “That’s…great.” My heart sank.

“Yeah, he said it was a Halloween gift, but then I discovered all the cool stuff it could do!”

“That’s so so great…”

“And now I just had my first team-up! With the Prowler! How cool is that? Man, I better get to Kenzie’s house before the party’s over, if I wanna tell everyone!” He stood up. “This is the best Halloween ever! Thanks, Prowler!” I didn’t even get a chance to raise my hand before he was up and jumping away, a tubby little silhouette against the moonlight.

I didn’t worry too much about him. Because I knew I was going to see him again. I was gonna make sure of it. But for now, I needed to get inside, and help my dad pass out candy before he starts wondering if I’m a closet gay. I shimmy down the gutter and through my bedroom window--the same, old routine.

Best Halloween ever, my ass.

---

End