By cbishop 33 Comments
A few weeks ago, a dramatic declaration was made, announcing the end of Marvel Mayhem. In the days after this announcement, TheSpiritWalker did what his name suggests, and he invaded the afterlife to find Marvel Mayhem again, if only briefly, and he bade all of us come with him! So our chore was to introduce a new hero or villain to the world of Marvel Mayhem, and venture once more into the ethereal realm of fan-fics gone by. But was this truly the Death of Marvel Mayhem? Is this contest to be its final wake? Or has new interest been kindled? Has Marvel Mayhem been brought back from the beyond? Only time will tell...
...In the meantime, WE VOTE! Deadline for votes is October 2nd, 4pm GMT (so 12pm EST for my own reference). Pick your favorite, cast your vote, and if the mood strikes you, say a final farewell to Marvel Mayhem ...or perhaps welcome it back? ;)
One Police Plaza
Miss Mosquito looked at the cuffs restraining her to the table and gave them a tug. They didn’t budge much particularly as they were made of, well possibly adamantium she guessed. The room was plain; the main feature was the mirrored glass window where she presumed people were watching.
“It’s been an hour!” she moaned.
As if on cue the door swung open and in strode two females. One, the red head, looked like she lived in her clothes; the other brunette was smartly dressed. The brunette sat across the table and opened a folder whilst the red head perched on the edge of the table.
“This is Detective Dallas Riordan,” said the brunette “My name is Lieutenant Molly Von Richthofen.”
“Am I under arrest?” asked Miss Mosquito.
“Are you cuffed?” asked Dallas with a smirk on her face.
“…yes,” she replied.
Dallas pushed her glasses up. “Well then, it’s safe to say you’re under arrest. But just in case, because I’m tired of getting effing screwed over by technicalities. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do, and I mean anything, may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to consult an at…”
“I know my rights.”
Molly looked up “So you’re waving your Miranda warning?”
“Um no, I mean I know, um.” The costumed woman began to stammer.
“Hey!” snapped Dallas “Let me just do the formal reading of it so you’re covered, I’m covered, Molly’s covered and when your lawyer gets here…you’ve got a lawyer right?”
Miss Mosquito looked at Dallas “Um, no. Do I need one?”
Dallas began to chuckle and got up from the table “Oh yeah!”
“Dallas!” snapped Molly, giving her partner a stern look. Dallas shrugged and rolled her eyes.
“Can someone tell me what’s going on?” asked Miss Mosquito as she tried to stand but the cuffs kept her from standing properly.
“Miss Mosquito,” Molly stopped as Dallas sniggered. She waited til her partner regained her composure before continuing. “Miss Mosquito, can you tell me your version of the events?”
“Look, I just stopped three guys from robbing an armoured car out the front of Ma & Pa’s Pancake House.”
“Plaza.” Dallas corrected her “It’s a pancake plaza, not a house. But please, continue.”
Miss Mosquito glared at the red haired detective who was quite rude. “Does she have to be here?” she asked Molly.
“Unfortunately yes,” replied Molly “She’s a very good detective but terrible with people. Especially costumed people.”
“I’m standing right here!” snapped Dallas.
“Try to ignore her,” said Molly as she wrote some notes “You were…?”
Miss Mosquito sighed “I got a tip that there was going to be a robbery. I went down to the pancake PLAZA and there were three guys with guns. I flew in and took them down. Next thing I know a police SWAT team,”
“Code: Blue” said Dallas.
“Whatever, turn guns on me and put me in the back of their truck and I end up here.” Miss Mosquito tried to fold her arms but the short cuff chain prevented it. “Could I get these taken off?”
“Sorry,” said Molly “Not yet. You say flew in? Could you elaborate?”
Miss Mosquito shifted in her seat “I could show you.”
Dallas’ hand went to her gun as Molly’s eyebrows went up. “No, just tell us,” said Molly.
“Okay. Well my…”
“OH GOD!” Dallas shouted as she pointed “Are you related to Mosquito Man?”
“What?” said Molly turning to her partner.
“You know; that guy that got blown away by Bullseye when he took out the bridge. The John Doe in the morgue with no name. Thor turned up, Rage got put in hospital then those idiots broke into One Police and Stone broke that bearded guy’s nose.” Dallas gushed as she wandered about the room “Are you his wife or something?”
Miss Mosquito looked down at the table “I’m his sister.”
“Knew it!” laughed Dallas “So what’s his name?”
Miss Mosquito’s lip trembled “Michael.”
Dallas and Molly looked at each other. The pair of officers did some quick non verbal communication before Molly turned to Miss Mosquito. “Will you excuse us?”
Molly and Dallas stood on the other side of the glass with Captain’s D’Angelo and Burdick .
“You need to read her her rights,” said Captain Burdick. “Half reading them isn’t the same as reading her righ…”
“Hey, if Stone and his tinker toy brigade didn’t do their job, how is that my fault?” snapped Dallas before remembering who she was talking to “Captain.”
“I can’t wait to send her back to you,” said D’Angelo to Burdick.
“She’s about to expose her identity to us,” said Molly “She needs her lawyer.”
“She needs a shrink!” scoffed Dallas “Miss Mosquito, really! Was she bitten by a radioactive mosquito or something?”
“A bit of compassion Riordan,” said D’Angelo “I think you’re right Molly. Get her a lawyer before you go any further. As much as clearing up who Mosquito Man was, having her tell us things she may regret la…”
“Oh why don’t you wrap her in cotton wool too captain!” groaned Dallas ‘Seriously, she chose her path the moment she pulled on a costume as opposed to enrolling at the police academy. One day she may be an effing Avenger, but today her actions got an undercover cop killed; one of New York's finest. If she was just Jane Everybody we’d be all over her like radiation in Seattle!”
Everyone behind the glass looked at Dallas. She was right, which was what was slowly dawning on them.
“Read her rights again to be sure,” said Burdick. “Then call her a lawyer. I think She-Hulk’s in the building. We’ll…who is that?”
Riordan, Von Richthofen, D’Angelo and Burdick watched the uniformed officer walk into the interrogation room. There was something off about his walk, his posture, the sai in his hand. Miss Mosquito screamed as the officer drove the weapon into her throat and out the back of her head. Dallas drew her gun and fired through the glass shattering it causing Bullseye to turn around and glare at her.
“Nearly messed up my lack of hair bitch,” he said as he lifted his hat rubbed his bald head.
“DROP IT!” yelled Dallas.
“NOW!” yelled Molly. D’Angelo and Burdick’s weapons also trained on the premier assassin.
“This?” said Bullseye mockingly as he spun the bloody sai in his fingertips “I don’t think so.”
Quick as lightning the sai flew across the room and jammed in the barrel of Dallas’ gun. Molly, Burdick and D’Angelo opened fire but he dove away and was out the door. Dallas tossed the gun and gave chase, hot on the heels of the man who was supposed to be locked up in prison til Thor got old. Dallas scooped up a keyboard as they bolted across the offices.
“Why?” screamed Dallas.
Bullseye leapt over a desk as he headed for the lifts “I got told Mosquito Man was still alive. Can’t be having people I put in the ground come back. Ruins my rep.”
“You’re an animal!” Dallas hurled the keyboard at him.
Bullseye stopped, turned and caught the keyboard like it was nothing ‘Stop it baby, you’re turning me on!” He hurled the keyboard back at her, cracking her in the temple and sending her to the floor and unconciousness.
New York Downtown Hospital, 170 William St
Dallas woke up to see Dr Elias Wirtham, an old flame of hers, standing over her “Oh god,” she groaned.
“Nice to see you to Dallas,” smiled the charming black doctor “You’re lucky to be alive. You received a massive hematoma to yo…”
Dallas threw the blankets off and swung out of bed “Thanks, I gotta go.”
Dr Wirtham grabbed one elbow as Molly grabbed the other as Dallas near collapsed “No, you need to get back to bed.” Dr Wirtham “Please, try to keep her there Lieutenant.”
“I’ll give it a go,” said Molly as he left the room.
“How’s Miss Mosquito?” Dallas blurted out.
“Dead,” said Molly as she patted Dallas’ hand. “Poor thing.”
“Well that’s just effing great!” wined Dallas.
Molly shook her head and smiled “What are you complaining about, you should see the paperwork I’ve gotta do.”
THE MIGHTY FISH-MAN
HOW HE GOT HIS POWERS:
One day at the coast of Miami a man name Den G. William. he is an world traveler, he had a dream to travel the world since he was 10 years old after reading a book called "The World Has Secrets And Its Up To Us to Find Them" and he followed that dream when he turned 18 and traveled the world until his 25th birthday came up so he went back to Miami where his family lived to spend time with his family since he was gone for so long . he was at sea, pondering to himself 'that sucks that my father got sick and mother has to take care of him and my bother couldn't come, because he has navy duties " . while pondering to his thoughts suddenly to his surprise he caught a strange looking fish,it looked old like it was prehistoric it had black and brown skin, very sharp teeth.it was like a oversize Parana . He wondered to himself “Should I eat this…maybe I should keep this as a pet so I can show my mom and dad what I caught"
So he put the fish in a fish tank and he went back fishing. A few hours later he hears noise coming from where he put the fish. The fish was going crazy! Thrashing about and banging into the glass, cracking it.Suddenly it jumped out and bit him on the arm.He and the fish wrestled before he managed to rip it off his arm and toss it out the window back into the ocean.
“I’ve lost a lot of blood,” he thought. “Oh god I feel sick. I…think…I’m…”
And he passed out
When he awoke he felt really thirsty after that so he went for a glass of water. He drank it quickly but it did nothing to quench his thirst, it was not enough. He had another, and another, and another before sticking his whole head under the tap. He started to panic and without a rationale reason he jumped into the ocean, and felt much better.
“Why do I have a powerful need for water? What did that fish thing do to me?”
He got back on his boat and noticed his hands were changing, turning blue.
“Ahhh!” he screamed and stopped, clutching at his throat.
“Why does my voice sound different?”
He ran to the mirror in his bathroom and there he saw himself: a blue skinned Shark like teeth, a tail , and yellow eyes.
Den screamed and electricity pulsed from his body and destroyed the bathroom.
“Did I just became a super hero?”
super strength: he can at least lift 15. but given the right conditions he can go up to 25
high speed swimming: in the water its as if he a jet
skin manipulation :he can mold his skin to make a shields,swords and arrows.and also he can control his skin to make it hard so hard it can be like steel but given that right condition it can be hard like titanium.
high durability: he can take a hit torpedo form a submarine.
FISH DNA UNLOCK:
The strange looking fish was a prehistoric fish. it survived for so long having all the fishes DNA in one fish.so when it bit the guy he has the DNA of a all the fishes known to man and secret fishes that man doesn't know.but he cant really unlock the DNA unless he does heavy physical training, mental training.
The Wedding Crashers
“You look so beautiful.” Spectre cried as Rachel Leighton pulled the veil over her head. “Like one of those beauty queens back home, except without the breast implants.” She added tears of joy rolling down her face.
“Thank you.” Rachel said with a massive smile on her face. “Oh by the way where is Wraithwitch? Please tell me you didn’t let her got anywhere near Vulture’s grandson, we don’t need to add baby eating to the list of potential crimes caused by today.”
“Don’t worry; she was too busy flirting with Tiger Shark to notice.” Spectre answered as the sound of energy blasts and screaming super criminals radiated down the corridor, before with a crack the doors splintered and the armoured form of the Mauler was thrown into the room.
“What in the…” Rachel gasped as a man dressed in a white body stocking completed with a globe like helmet walked in accompanied by a woman dressed in grey, blades sticking out of her elbows. “You look like…?”
“Yes Miss Leighton, it is I Cue-Ball and my blushing bride to be Stickleback, and we are here to get revenge on you and your fiancé.” The man in white explained.
“This has to be a joke right?” Rachel asked Spectre as the later drew her pistol and levelled it at Stickleback.
“No joke.” Stickleback purred as she left into action, darting around and under the shots Spectre fired before stabbing a knife into her throat. “She’s a ghost right, no long term damage their, I mean when we finish with you we could all be friends.”
“Not…likely.” Spectre croaked as Cue-Ball removed a ‘trick ball’ and threw it at Rachel, thick smoke enveloping her as two pairs of hands dragged her away. Struggling she broke free and grabbed her barrette, as Stickleback came darting out of the fog, a pair of blades flashing silver in the late morning sun. Parrying the first strike and blocking the second Rachel lashed out as best she could, landing a few good blows despite being restricted by her dress. Falling back Stickleback stepped aside as Cue-Ball threw a concussion ball at his target, the throw going wide and shattering the window behind Rachel.
Looking at the newly opened exit route, Rachel leapt her dress ripping as she fell three stories to the limo parked underneath. “Ow, never doing that again without the shock absorbers in my suit.” She groaned as the driver poked his duck like head out.
“You okay Miss Leighton?” He asked as Cue-Ball appeared in the window and dropped a few exploding orbs, the projectiles rolling under the car as Rachel slipped off, dragging the driver with her. Seconds later the vehicle exploded as Cue-Ball and Stickleback ran from the window, obviously hoping to intercept Rachel before she could get back inside the hotel.
“I just paid off the insurance on that.” Howard the Driver sighed before being lead back towards the hotel. “Who were those mooks anyway?”
“Unwanted guests.” Rachel answered as she reached the revolving door inside, the body of Whirlwind slumped inside and the mechanism jammed. “S**t they got Whirly too.” She sighed before stabbing the glass with her barrette, the diamond tipped pin cutting an entrance hole back inside. Squeezing into the lobby she heard the sound of music and darted towards the main hall, elbow barging through the door only to see Cue-Ball and Stickleback standing at the alter waiting for her.
“Nice of you to make it.” Cue-Ball sneered. “As you can see your guests weren’t too much of a pain to neutralise without their equipment, the few who were are locked away so they can’t interfere.” He added as one of the bodies sprawled across the aisle took a big gasp of air and opened his eyes only to have a stiletto blade thrown at his head, blood oozing from his new wound.
“This could be a problem.” Stickleback whispered. “I’m beginning to think he is un-killable.”
“Don’t worry babe, we’ve got this handled.” Cue-Ball announced, “Walk down the aisle Leighton, soon your husband will be here and we can begin.” He added as Rachel moved forwards as Howard skirted around the back of the pues, trying to flank the pair of killers.
“Tell your duck to stay where he is.” Stickleback ordered. “We don’t need any of his Quack Fu to ruin this happy day.” She added, her words causing Howard to stop as Rachel reached the alter, her eyes narrowing as she caught sight of the shadowy figure standing behind Cue-Ball and Stickleback.
“You, I should have known.” She snarled as the figure stepped forward to reveal a gaudily dressed man in a jester costume.
“You think I could miss this?” The Jester cackled. “My little treacherous snake getting married, I mean I almost killed you enough times for us to be family.”
”But you died!!” Rachel hissed, “You died I saw it, and people don’t just come back to life!!”
“Oh but they can, I’ve seen hell and it really burnt me up.” The Jester answered as the doors to the atrium opened up with a slam. “Ah ha the man of the hour arrives at last!” The Jester cackled before realising his mistake, his grin becoming a look of fear and disgust.
“Not quite.” A voice that sounded like fingers running across a tombstone croaked as Rachel turned to see a hooded figure clutching a scythe made out of bone drift towards them. “Cue-Ball, Stickleback why are you following this fools directions?” She asked as Rachel looked around wildly for an escape route.
“We though you and he…” Cue-Ball gulped as the body in the aisle sat up and slashed towards the Hooded Haunt, only to be knocked aside.
“Rachel get out of here.” Oriole wheezed as he lashed out with the stiletto formally embedded in his face. “Get Jeff and get out of here.” He added as Rachel leapt off the alter and landed on the second row of pues before sprinting out the door. She managed to ascend all three flights of stairs before hearing Cue-Ball and Stickleback reach the bottom. Running along the corridor she stopped at one of the rooms and hammered on the door.
“Rachel what is it?” Jeff groaned as he emerged from the room dressed in a three piece suit and tie.
“Assassins, working for the Jester and Hooded Haunt.” Rachel gasped as Cue-Ball and Stickleback emerged from the stairwell. “And they look like us!” She added as Jeff reached inside and pulled a pool cue from his room, spinning it like a Bo Staff.
“Well, well, party is all here.” Cue-Ball grunted in a sarcastic voice. “You never noticed us did you?!” He snapped, “We were that couple ten seconds behind you, we had to watch as you got everything we wanted, and now, now we take it from you thanks to the Hooded Haunt’s magic’s.”
“Bring it you bad Xerox copy.” Jeff answered as Stickleback sprinted towards him, her blades meeting his cue as Rachel dodged a wave of concussion balls thrown at her by Cue-Ball. Picking up one of the projectiles Rachel threw it back only to see the ball smash open on Cue-Ball’s helmet.
“Got to try better then that!!” Cue-Ball snickered as he cracked his knuckles, puffs of blue chalk spraying out of his gauntlets. Racing in he delivered a punch to Rachel’s chin, the blow leaving a blue knuckle indent in her face, causing her to stumble back.
“Rachel no!!” Jeff yelled as Stickleback slipped under his guard and tore his suit open. “Switch opponents.” He grunted as Rachel got to her feet and attempted a clumsy tackle on Stickleback, the lithe villainess darting backwards.
“Got to say I like my old foe better.” Cue-Ball sneered as he flicked open his own cue. “This staff is forged from magically reinforced titanium; no way can you get past my blocks.” He added as Jeff lunged with his cue, the tip striking Cue-Ball’s helmet and sending him flying along the corridor and through the wall of the hotel.
“Idiot.” Jeff stated as Rachel and Stickleback grabbled on the floor, the pair of women hissing and spitting as they both tried to get the upper hand. Things looked even until Rachel went limp, in apparent surrender.
“One down,” Stickleback hissed as she got to her feet, “One to…gurk.” Before she could finish Rachel had struck with a leg sweep, the blow sending Stickleback plummeting face first into the floor.
“Let’s get changed.” Jeff grunted as he pulled Rachel off the floor. Minutes later the pair reappeared in their usual costumes. “Time to end this once and for all.”
“I’m telling you it won’t work!” he shouts.
“I’m telling you that it will,” she answers. “At any rate, all of the forces are in play.”
“But this is a game changer! You can’t trust them,” he insists with a sweep of his hand. “It will destroy everything we have built here!”
“You worry too much, father.”
“And you don’t worry at all! Know this,” he warns, “if this goes sideways, it’s you who will pay the price!”
“You wouldn’t dare,” she says.
He narrows his eyes and answers, “Darlin’, never bet against the house.”
Vieux Carré, New Orleans
The sun has nearly disappeared over the horizon, leaving the French Quarter to the mercies of evening. Its alleyways darken first, as buildings cast their last shadows, before darkness falls completely. In one such alley, between a Chinese market and a bar with no name, and closed on one end by a brick wall lined with dumpsters, there's a jet black motorcycle. From out of the shadows strides its rider, clad head-to-toe in black leather and a shiny, jet black helmet that hides his face. He swings a leg over the seat, mounting the bike, flips the kickstand up with his foot, and puts the key in the ignition.
As he does so, a radio squelches to life in his helmet. “Operation Nightstrike is a go.”
The rider says nothing. He turns the key, and jumps on the kickstarter. Revving the engine, he waves to the darkness behind him, as if motioning it forward, and starts toward the street. A roar is heard from the shadows, and as he reaches the mouth of the alley, a half dozen motorcycles pour out behind him, all jet black like the first, and with identically dressed riders. They pull out in both directions and roar off into the night.
As they depart, a man steps out of the bar, his gaze following the riders. Looking down the short alleyway, only just long enough for a trash truck to fit into, he sneers slightly. He then hefts a heavy-canvas bag from one hand to the other, and starts down the sidewalk.
Remy LeBeau zips a duffel bag shut and swings it over his shoulder. “Thanks for the cards, Arcade.”
The long-haired redhead smiles and pats Remy’s back, as they walk out of his office into the main casino. “It’s a pleasure doing business, Gambit. We have to change those cards out after so many games anyway. If you didn’t take them, we’d just have to throw them out. It’s a small price to pay to keep on the good side of the United Guild.”
“That and testing our assassins,” answers Gambit. “How are the newest initiates doing?” he asks.
Arcade purses his lips, “I’m afraid you’ve lost three so far.” He shrugs, and adds, “The other ten are still doing quite well.”
Gambit nods. “And how’s the rest of the business?”
Arcade gives a disgusted wave at the rows of slot machines and blackjack tables, and says, “These mouth breathers annoy me, but the gambling funds my other activities. Going straight is almost boring, but it’s endlessly amusing to know that the very thing that made me a wanted criminal before now makes me legitimately wealthy. Rather than paying me to kill others, people now pay me to ‘try’ to kill them. A ‘survival course’ for whales. Where the other hotels hunt them with comps, I hunt them with harpoons… among other things.” Arcade smiles maliciously. “Lawyers and legal waivers are magnificent things.”
Remy smiles briefly, his red eyes flashing slightly. As he walks away, he calls out, “You’re a cutthroat pig, Arcade!”
Arcade holds up a finger and calls back, “Businessman! I’m a ‘cutthroat businessman,’ thank you very much.” He smiles to himself and adds quietly, “Pity you won’t challenge my Murderworld.” He then turns and strolls back to his office, savoring the thought.
Gambit is stuffing a few packs of cards into his jacket pockets, when a black portal opens up halfway between him and the casino doors. He hears the scream, “Gambit!” before he sees the woman step out of the portal. She's barely covered in thin black stripes of what it would be charitable to call “clothing,” including a thin black mask over her eyes.
He looks a little confused as he says, “Ecstasy?”
Then a figure in black leather and a shiny black motorcycle helmet exits the portal behind her, quickly catching up to her and forcing her back into the portal. “Remy!” she screams, “Help meeee!”
“Renee!” screams LeBeau. “Hang on, cher!” He drops the bag and runs for the portal, diving in before it can close. He is surprised to land in the street, just outside the casino. He is equally surprised to see six more portals open up, all with black clad bikers stepping out of them.
The one with Renee now over his shoulder speaks to the others, his voice filtering through a speaker in the helmet, “Ecstasy neutralized,” he says, as he drops her to the pavement. “Mister Negative recruited. Marauders report.”
The first of the newly arrived riders says, “Blackheart eliminated. Black Mamba recruited. Doorman neutralized.”
The second says, “Night, Nightside, and Nightwind recruited.”
The third adds, “Spot neutralized. Vanisher and Smuggler recruited.”
The fourth reports, “Blackout eliminated. Quagmire recruited.”
The fifth says, “Darkstar eliminated. Silhouette neutralized. Cloak escaped.”
The sixth finishes with, “Shroud escaped. Asylum eliminated. Sepulchre eliminated.”
The one from the casino waves a hand over Ecstasy. The thin strands of ebon energy that make up her costume lift away, absorbed into his black leather, leaving her naked and unconscious on the pavement. “The Darkforce is ours,” he concludes.
Gambit picks that moment to throw some charged playing cards at the rider standing over Renee Deladier. The rider simply gestures, and a black portal swallows the cards. A moment later, another portal disgorges them towards the casino’s doors, and the explosion sends glass everywhere. Remy rolls to shield Renee, and the riders disappear through their portals.
From the shadows of another alley, across the street, the man from the bar watches Gambit through the scope of his rifle. As the mutant lays his trenchcoat over the body of the naked woman in the street, the gunman muses to himself, “Two for one. Good.” He lines up his shot on Gambit, and just before he is about to pull the trigger, he starts to whisper, “Justice is…” His mantra is cut off as a knife is pressed to his throat, a black clad attacker having appeared out of the shadows behind him.
The Marauder leans in close, and with a light squelch from his helmet’s speaker, he utters his own mantra into the man’s ear, "Hail Hydra," before ending the would-be-assassin’s life. He then melts back into the shadows of the alley, before passing headlights reveal that nothing is there but a brick wall.
Watching the events outside unfold on the monitors, Arcade offers, “Arcadia, my dear, it seems I owe you an apology. Well played,” he says, raising his glass.
A beautiful young woman, hair dyed green, clinks her glass against his. “See? I told you, daddy- it can all be Murderworld, if we just try.”
Embracing her, Arcade says, “Yes, you did, darlin’. You told me.”
Her head leaned against his shoulder, she says, “Daddy?”
“Yes, dear?” he answers.
“I worked really hard on this, didn’t I?”
Stroking her hair softly, he kisses the top of her head and says, “Yes, Arcadia, you sure did.”
Head still resting on his shoulder, she says softly, “Then I think you should call me Madame Hydra.”
Scowling, Arcade thinks, Game changer, indeed. Aloud, he answers, “Yes, Madame Hydra,” and strokes her hair again. Draining his glass, he asks, "And Madame Hydra?"
"You're paying to fix my hotel entrance."
Do Not Feed the Ducks.
It’s me again, your amazingly awesome, wall crawling neighbourhood Spiderman! Now I know what you're thinking- a story about feeding ducks? Lame! And truth be told, there’s probably only a couple of instances in the entire omniverse, where ‘awesome’ and ‘ducks’ genuinely spring-roll to mind (spring roll… get it? Haha! I know, I’m hilarious). The first of course being the Crispy Duck Special served at Pan Pan’s Buffet on 34th Street… mmm… crispy… and the last being when an innocent young lady, pushing along her shiny new perambulator, suddenly stops and yells:
And a massive pew-pew beam launches out of nowhere and:
A fire hydrant bursts into a fountain of water so large it would give the Victoria Falls a run for her money.
“Muh-huh-hah! Looks like ze buuurd is taking ze burd-bath no? Muh-huh-muh-haha!”
~ LEAP ~
That’s right, leap. This Fiend-au-Français is none other than The Leaper, a pesky small time crook packing a pair of super springy legs, a curly moustache, and a sense of humour so overwhelmingly corny, you could wrap it up and sell it down Aunt May’s Annual Vegetable Fayre. Seriously folks, this guy is a total lame, and yours truly, the Amazing Spiderman, regularly turns the Leaper into a side-dish of Frog Legs before it’s time for dinner. So there I am, slinging my webs heroically through the urban streets of New York, ready to:
The Leaper into next week when:
A talking duck? What? It’s wearing a russet coloured business suit… and a polka dot tie (you know, the one that your dad bought for you, but you never got around to wearing it… yeah that one), and without a moment's hesitation, jumps on top of my shoulders, and starts whacking me in the back of the head!
‘That quacky frog is mine! Because of him I’m quacked to the bone!’
‘You mean soaked to the bo-’
‘I was finishing up with my Quank, when Frog-Legs suddenly quacked into the vault and stole my quacking deposit! Now I’m gonna quack his quack!’
Sound weird to you? Well it sure did to me! And it became even weirder when it actually began to fight our French foe. It was all like:
And then some:
Excuse my French, but The Leaper pretty much had his ‘Cannes’ handed to him. Literally. I mean, the duck actually karate-kicked him, head first, straight into the mouth of a Post Box. Talk about Frog-Legs to go. When I asked for the duck’s name it replied:
‘Howard. And quack’s Howard the Duck to yer, ya silly web-head!’
After I slung The Leaper upside a lamppost with my super-adhesive spider webbing, I soon found myself fascinated by this Howard the Duck guy. As time went on, I really came to like him. That’s why I knew I had to do something, when a news bulletin interrupted what I was watching on the TV:
~ Breaking news! Howard, a New-Yorker who also happens to be a sentient duck, has been kidnapped by the infamous Bread-Man! ~
That’s when it hit me. No matter how careful I am, my friends always seem to get caught up in my webs. I didn’t even know who this 'Bread-Man' guy was, but after watching him publicly call out Spiderman to an abandoned industrial bakery, I was knock the stuffing out of him and rescue my friend. I arrived at 5:59pm, just shy of the deadline set by Bread-Head or whatever he likes to call himself. When looking at the bakery, which the Bread-Man had called me out to, I noticed something important. It was:
The Bakery seemed more like a factory- that just so happened to make bread. Thankfully, I’ve got this special ability called my ‘Spider-Sense’, which alerts me to danger. And sure enough, behind one sinisterly large wooden door, my Spider Sense started going banana-cakes. And so, with a mighty Spidey Kick:
The doors burst open, leaving me to gawp in awe of the bakery’s main room, where I could clearly see Bread-Bin and my roped up pal Howard the Duck. He was dangling dangerously above a vat of boiling oil, whilst the bad guy waved around an overly large baguette roll like it was his sceptre or something.
‘Well if it isn’t our neighbourhood wall-crawling fool, Spider-Flan.’
‘Nice to meet you too Bread-Basket-Guy!’
‘The name is The Bread-Man, and your beloved Duck over there is about to get a whole lot more Crispy!’
And I thought the Leaper was bad. This guy’s jokes were just plain crusty with extra sesame seeds on top.
‘Spidey? Get the quack outta here! Can’t you see it’s a quack?’
‘It’s a quack? Ohhh you mean a trap-’
Suddenly, a gigantic, viscous, off-yellow creature ambushes me out of nowhere. It’s all slobbery and gooey and gross, with spiky sharp teeth reminiscent of a set of evil Nachos.
‘Hort-di-hort-hort! You cannot defeat my monsters you miserable insect!’
‘Arachnid, but yeah.’
‘I’ve enhanced several tonnes of bread mixture with genetically modified yeast, transforming them into unstoppable beasts of batter which I alone control!’
Then another bread goo monster thing appears, equally gross and just as ferocious!
‘Why are you doing this Bread-Man...?!’
I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something felt different about this guy. Maybe he wasn’t so much of a threat on his own. In fact, he seemed more frightened and frustrated than depraved and dangerous. Perhaps, I thought, I was missing something.
‘This was once your bakery, wasn’t it.’
The two icky dough creatures suddenly froze in place. At last, my costume was safe.
‘How did you know that?’
‘There’s only one man who’s skilled enough to genetically engineer yeast in this way. Bartholomew Stickley, otherwise known as the famous Barry Breadsticks.’
‘I… I didn’t think it was that obvious…’
‘I only knew because my friend Howard there happens to be a big fan of bread.’
Howard, who had been hanging around for a while, sensed that his beak might just have been saved.
‘Quack-solutely! Now do us a favour, and get me the quack down from here!’
‘I did everything for this company, to try and make the world a bread-er place. But we started losing money under my leadership. So HQ shut me down. Replaced me with some scrawny young rapscallion with an MBA in Business Studies, who started making the bread on the Cheap-batta. Now our bread isn’t even worth feeding to the ducks!’
The Bread-Man proceeded to take a moment to reflect, almost as if to acknowledge the fact that he knew what he was doing was wrong.
‘You don’t understand Spiderman. You don’t understand what it’s like to lose everything.’
‘I lost my Uncle... he meant the world to me. But he was… taken away… by some small-time crook. I understand.’
‘Well then! You’ll understand why I am about to deep fry this duck! I have the power to get my revenge!’
The rope binding Howard’s webbed feet begins to loosen, sending him even closer to the boiling vat of oil:
‘What the QUACK! Get me outta here!’
‘You’re wrong Bread-Man. Just because you have power, doesn’t mean you should abuse it. As my uncle said.’
With great power comes great responsibility.
But before the Bread-Man could make a response, I released three rounds of my new web fluid, the impermeable Funnel-Webbing. The first two sealed up the oozing monsters in front of me, whilst the other one encased the Bread Man’s body, with the exception of his head and breadstick/sceptre. With that done, I acrobatically whisked away Howard from his demise, leaving only his top-fluff singed. The day was saved!
‘Thank Quack for that! Alright you Cream-Quacker, it’s time to get yours!’
‘No Howard. Let the cops deal with him. You’re safe now.’
The Bread-Man stared in disbelief as I stopped Howard from laying in to him. Somehow, I could see the fear in his eyes fade away.
‘…Did you ever get over losing your Uncle?’
I paused briefly, unable to think of something meaningful to tell the Bread-Man. I couldn't help but notice that he had a resigned look about his face, as if he already knew that he was busted. Maybe, this was his way of asking for forgiveness.
‘You should know, you’re the Bread-Man right? You rise above it.’
Thus ends my amazing adventure with Howard the Duck. The Bread-Man was sentenced to one year’s community service, cleaning up Times Square. Occasionally, he even feeds the ducks that swim in the pool. Howard the Duck and I remain best buddies, although he can’t resist pecking at my mask in the most annoying of ways. Ultimately, I’m not sure if you think ducks are any more awesome than you did before this story started. But that doesn’t that matter. Having good friends, even if one happens to be a duck, is always awesome in my book.
Catch you later folks!
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