[Midtown Manhattan. New York City. 3:00 PM.]
The office in one of New York City's tallest towers was striking in its scale and splendor. Spacious, with a pristine marble floor, a series of staircases ran from the entrance door to the far wall, at the end of which stood a massive red oak desk. The central and descending rows led all the way back to the exit.
A man in a formal black suit sat at the desk, but what made him stand out was his light gray skin, which in the shadows looked like granite.
The man gazed thoughtfully out the panoramic window of his office, pondering a pressing problem.
Lincoln Thompson had been in business for a long time; this year would mark exactly thirty years. He had started out at twelve years old. If anyone knew that his first act was an attempt to steal ice cream, they would have laughed. If only his old friend had not chickened out. In any case, it was all in the past. Much water had flowed under the bridge since then.
He had become smarter, more composed, although before that there had been a period of wild youth. Joining Silvio Manfredi's gang could be considered Thompson's first lucky break. He had risen all the way from a common underboss to the personal bodyguard and punishing executioner of the then boss of the New York underworld.
Gray-haired. Old school. Before any Fisk.
But, of course, as soon as Tombstone had the opportunity to take his place as leader, he seized it immediately. Who could have known there would be so much hassle with new players later? After all, one thing could not be taken away from Silvio: he was respected and feared.
Right now, the biggest players were him and the Kingpin. But there was no absolute power. Although Lincoln would be lying if he said he was not satisfied with everything. Fisk had proven himself a reasonable partner. And the interference in business… The mistake had happened on Tombstone's soil, which meant it was up to him to fix it. But that did not mean the moment of disrespect was forgiven or forgotten.
"Boss, did you call?"
Lincoln turned.
Hammerhead. A very promising assistant. A relic of the Silver-Haired era. His support after the overthrow of the previous king had been invaluable. And yet, an old friend should still be watched; who knew when that titanium forehead would grow tired of serving?
"Yes, I have something to talk about. As I understand it, the Bruisers did not live up to expectations?"
"Boss…"
"Weakness is unacceptable at the moment. Our enemies are watching our affairs relentlessly. Another mistake could cost us our privileged position."
"You have a plan?"
"The Bruisers were a rather famous and expensive solution to our spider problem. And they did not work out. So I thought… Tell me, Joseph, which mercenary is the best?"
The gangster shrugged, understandably.
"The one about whom it is very difficult to find information. Luckily, I managed to find one."
Tombstone picked up a notepad and pen from the table and began writing something.
"Here's the address. Go there tomorrow, give our friend the advance and a photo of the target."
"That's it?"
"Professionals don't waste their time on trifles."
Seconds count. No room for error. Just one chance or death…
—---------
"Ultra!"
"No way, Pete, you can't break the combo!"
Pressing all the buttons on the gamepad in unimaginable combinations, Osborn rattles off an unbroken series that seals Parker's unconditional defeat in their virtual battle.
"YESSSSSSSS! And in the series, with a score of 3:2, Harry Osborn wins!"
"The button on my controller was sticking," I mutter, taking out my phone and rolling my eyes.
"Yeah, tell me another one," Harry said, pouring himself a Pepsi.
Having discussed business, Harry and I decided to dedicate today to answering a particularly important question: which of us is the Mortal Kombat champion.
"By the way, Pete, have you done the projects you were assigned for the summer?"
"Back in June."
"Can you help me with one? Physics, you know how I am with that."
"You mean Ms. Simons's paper? Chapters one through seven, all the info you need is in there."
"It's almost a hundred pages long, Pete! Please help!"
"Okay, how about tomorrow?"
"Deal."
We exchange high fives.
"Okay, I'd love to continue our entertaining duel, but Uncle Ben needs help."
"Okay Pete," Osborn says as he switches off the second controller and continues the battle with Shao Kahn.
___________
"Hello, Uncle?"
"Pete, are you coming?"
"Yeah. Need me to buy anything?"
"I have all the materials; now I just need your presence."
"Then I'm flying, Uncle," I say, ending the call.
And this time the expression will be literal.
I look for the nearest alley, and among these wonderfully familiar, trash-strewn corners of the city, Peter Parker disappears, and the Amazing Spider-Man takes the stage.
Firing off two web lines, I swing back, giving my body the necessary acceleration. Finding myself among the skyscrapers, I begin my confident flight. It is amazing how quickly you can get used to such mind-blowing things as jumping at an altitude of several kilometers. After just seven months, I can no longer imagine my life without them.
I get to Queens in twenty minutes. Great mood and no traffic.
"I'm home!"
"Hi, Peter, Ben is in the basement."
"Hello, Aunt May," I say, coming up to kiss my relative on the cheek. "How are you?"
"Good, and you, as I see, are in high spirits?"
"Full of strength and energy!"
"What has affected you so, young man?" my aunt asks slyly.
"Life is in full swing—what's not to rejoice about?"
"Ah, young years. You know, at your age I felt the same way, especially after I met Ben…"
"Ah, I'm already running, Uncle!"
To the sound of my aunt's laughter, I dash to the basement.
"Hello, champion, you're quick."
"After all, I needed to fix my mistake," I say, putting on my boots and grabbing a flashlight.
"Of course, we agreed to clean up the aftermath of the flood today, but you could have stayed with your friends. Believe me, your old uncle is quite capable of handling one more rotten pipe."
"I don't doubt it at all. But I promised to help, and family is the most important responsibility."
"Nice to hear. You usually never forget anything, so was there a reason this time?"
"And more than one."
"Surely the most important one lives next door and makes you daydream?" Ben notes slyly.
"Just when I thought I'd managed to avoid romantic discussions with Aunt May, you attack from behind, Uncle. What about male solidarity?"
"Come on, Pete, don't blame the old men for being curious. Come on, spill the beans!"
"Oh, okay. There's not much to tell. We went to a restaurant, sat around, reminisced about childhood. We got really candid toward the end…"
I decide to drag things out and tease Uncle. Why not? I don't like to talk about my personal life. Even to my closest ones.
"And?"
"We confessed our mutual feelings to each other. So now Mary Jane and I are dating."
"I'm happy for you, nephew, congratulations!"
"Thank you," I say, accepting my uncle's warm embrace.
"Just remember to use protection."
"What?!"
I stare in shock. I really did not expect that.
"Come on, man. I was young too, and I know perfectly well what boys your age think about. Girls, by the way, think about it just as much. Or do you think the saying that they mature earlier in THIS regard is just a lie?"
"Just… wow." In canon, Ben Parker left early, but he and Pete could easily have had a similar conversation.
"Let's just get on with it."
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