Spider-Man: The New Animated Series Season 2: Against All Odds

Episode 1: Welcome Back: Part 1

Peter Parker, Mary Jane Watson, and Harry Osborn were all sitting at an outside table of the Drip Den, drinking coffee and chitchatting.

"So, guys, how've you been doing so far?" Peter asked after he lowered his cup to the tabletop following a brief sip from the steaming beverage.

Mary Jane lowered her own cup of coffee and then asked, "Well, Peter, you know how I've been into that whole acting gig of mine?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah. What about it?"

Mary Jane took another sip of her coffee and then answered, "Well, because of the last play I did a few weeks ago, my agent was on the phone with someone higher-up, and now, I'm on Broadway."

Peter and Harry's eyes widened at this news. "Really?" Harry asked. "Well, congrats, MJ. Good job."

"What's the first play you'll be doing on Broadway, Mary Jane?" Peter asked.

"It'll be Shakespeare," MJ replied. Peter and Harry nodded, saying, "Uh-huh." Mary Jane continued, "Specifically, the play will be Romeo and Juliet. Guess which role I've been cast in."

"I'll take the guess," Harry announced. "It'll be... the female lead, Juliet, am I not correct, doth my lovely lady?"

Peter rolled his eyes at this, and MJ giggled. "Your Shakespeare is terrible, Harry," she said. "But, yes, I will be playing Juliet. My rehearsal will be at five today, so that gives me a couple hours."

"When'll the play be ready for the public to see, MJ?" Peter asked, taking another sip of his coffee.

"In the coming month," she replied, also taking a sip from her own cup.

After Peter set down his cup, he said, "Really? It's gonna take that long?"

"Well, this is the director's first play, so he's a newbie, and so it's gonna take so much longer than usual to rehearse a play," MJ answered. "And besides, it's Shakespeare, so I'd say it's pretty hard work compared to the previous plays I've been in." Peter and Harry nodded at this, and each took another sip from their coffee. "So, Harry, what's up with you?"

"Well, OsCorp's finances have shot up fourteen percent in the last month alone," Harry said enthusiastically. Peter and Mary Jane both responded with a rather neutral, "Oh," and took minor sips from their cups. "Yeah, yeah, I know, not very interesting, but it's a hell of a good intake compared to the eight percent drop we experienced a couple months ago. Thank God our new weapons managed to outsell Stark Industries to the military for once."

"Good for you, Harry," Mary Jane said with slightly more cheer than the mere, "Oh," she gave with Peter.

Harry looked at the only female member of their trio. "You know, you really are getting good at that acting thing, MJ," he said. "For a moment there, I actually kinda believed you when you said that."

MJ smirked. "Oh, you're just jealous because from my audition for Juliet, I actually understand a little more than half of what Shakespeare wrote in that play."

"Me, jealous?" Harry said in a mock-argument tone. "I mean, you're a bigshot actress on Broadway now, and I'm the CEO of one of the biggest corporations in the world? Yeah, I'll admit to a certain jealousy." He said that last part with more sarcasm than before.

Peter and MJ tittered at that. "Yeah, well, Harry," Peter said, "you do have to admit also that MJ did fairly well in English back in senior high. She got an eighty percent on her report of Hamlet if I remember correctly. Isn't that right, MJ?"

"It's one of the better grades I got out of high school," Mary Jane said before she took her last sip of coffee and threw the cup in the garbage can nearby.

Harry and Peter were the last ones to finish off their coffees respectively, threw their cups in the same garbage that Mary Jane threw it into, and they resumed their conversation.

"Say, Peter, what was your grade on your report for Hamlet?" MJ asked.

Peter shook his head. "I don't know, I think I got a seventy, seventy-five on it, it wasn't as good as yours, MJ," Peter replied. "English wasn't as interesting or appealing to me as science. Though I do remember my report being a hell of a lot better than Harry's."

"English wasn't one of my best subjects, but my father was at least somewhat proud of my increase in that class from thirty to somewhere in the late fifties," Harry replied sardonically.

Peter and MJ rolled their eyes at that. It wasn't the first time in the past three months that they responded to a comment about Harry's late father without it having any emotional resonance for Harry himself; considering his vendetta on whom the trio–at least Peter and Mary Jane–now referred to as "You-Know-Who." Of course, none of the trio ever made any mention of "You-Know-Who" in the conversations they've had in the past few months, but Peter and MJ were pretty sure that if "he" was ever brought up, Harry would always and only refer to that specific individual with pure hatred and contempt.

"So now that MJ and I are done talking about how we've been doing, Pete, I guess it's time you tell us what you've been up to," Harry said. "You told me that ever since that little decrease in your pay at the Daily Bugle, you couldn't afford to pay for your half of the rent. I told you, I would help you out a bit, but for some reason, you didn't listen."

"Look, Harry, I know you'd be able to pay for both of our rent in the apartment and still have enough left over to buy yourself ten new yachts," Peter said. "But you know it's not in my nature. I can't let my friend pay for both of us while I slack off in the apartment like a bum with an actual place to live. I gotta pay for my own stuff, Harry, fair and square... even if my primary source of income is just from the Bugle, now that Empire 1 is closed down. Who'd've figured that'd close down rather than the Bugle? Well, anyway, you get my point."

"Oh, c'mon, wouldn't you do the same for me if I couldn't afford to pay my part of the rent, but you still had a blow of doh to pay for both of ours, Pete?" Harry asked.

Peter smirked with Mary Jane. "Blow of doh?" he asked. "Where'd you come up with that expression?"

"What, I can't come up with my own expressions?" Harry asked. "I mean, Shakespeare can make up his own words–" he looked over to MJ at this comment "but I can't come up with my own expressions?"

Peter rolled his eyes again. "Well, anyway," he said, "yeah, I probably would pay for both our rents, since we're both best friends." He smiled ironically at himself for this. "But since I'm at the other end of the financial spectrum, that being of the rags rather the riches, I don't feel as compelled to take advantage of my best friend's wealth for myself as others might be willing, such as you, Harry."

"Well, you know, if you ever need any money for if you're in big trouble, like if you find you're destined to be kicked into the streets as a hobo, just come to me," Harry said. "The only way that offer will become iffy is if there's another Great Depression–then I can't make any promises 'til the economy goes back up from there."

"Gee, I wish I could say I was humble enough not to accept that offer," Peter said. "But in case the day I'll ever find myself close to kissing the streets as my new home, I'll look to you, Harry."

"Of course you will," Harry nodded.

"Well, I gotta go now, guys," MJ said, standing up from her chair and picking her purse up off the ground. "It's been fun though. Oh, and Harry, I haven't forgotten about your birthday party tomorrow night, so I'll be there."

"It's your birthday tomorrow, Harry?" Peter asked.

Harry gave Peter a sidelong glance. "Yes, Peter, it will be," he said flippantly. "Same as last year, if you recall."

Peter slapped his hand to his forehead. "Ah, man, I totally forgot," he said in a self-regrettable tone. "Look, I'm totally sorry I didn't think to give you a gift, Harry. It's just been that I've been so busy trying to pay off for my apartment and all..."

"It's okay, Pete," Harry said with a half-smile that said he didn't hold Peter's forgetfulness against him. "I think I'll have enough gifts from my own half-assed, two-faced friends that'll be attending that party tomorrow. You know, the kind of friends you get when you're rich, but you only ever half-remember their faces at most, those kinds of friends."

"I wouldn't know, Harry," Peter said in a manner that said sarcasm, though it was true. "My aunt and uncle were your average retired middle-class joes that did what they could with what little money they had to raise me, so I didn't exactly live such a luxurious life you must have. Plus, you do recall I wasn't exactly the most popular kid at school, Harry."

"True," Harry said. "But all the same, just wanted to let you know those other guys and gals you'll be seeing at that party won't be my best friends, like you guys."

Both Peter and MJ nodded at this with appreciative half-smiles. Then the female member of their trio said, "Well, like I said, later, you two."

"See ya," Peter and Harry both said simultaneously.

After Mary Jane was gone, there was a not-too-awkward silence between Peter and Harry that lasted for less than five seconds before the latter brought up, "So, Peter, where is he?"

Peter noted the jarring tone in Harry's voice that went from semi-comedically social to cold and clipped. "Where's who?" he asked his friend, already guessing who the "who" was.

"You know who I'm talking about," Harry said in a tone that, for him, was menacing. He leaned in a few centimeters and said, "Spider-Man," as if it were a curse.

Peter leaned back in his chair and sighed in a feeling of defeat as Harry sat back in his own chair, though noticeably upright and stiff compared to his casual slouching when Mary Jane was with them. Peter ran his hand down his face before he looked to his friend and said, "Harry, it's been three months already, okay? I don't know where he is. So for once in your life, drop it." Peter emphasized those last two words as if to get it hard through Harry's head.

"Peter, you know I won't drop it until I literally see his head served on a platter next to the best Thanksgiving turkey my chefs could cook," Harry replied, "and until I take off that mask myself from that decapitated head."

Peter raised an eyebrow, his mouth open a bit. "As cheesy as that line was, that's a little dark, Harry," he said.

"You honestly think I give a damn about that, Peter?" Harry asked, his face backing up his words and tone of voice completely. "You took that insect's pictures for well over a year, so you must have some insight as to where he might've crawled back into."

"Listen, Harry, I didn't know where he'd go to after he was done battling all those crooks and supervillains that're a hundred times worse than he ever was," Peter said. "What in God's name makes you think I'd know where he'd go to after what happened to Indy?"

Without acknowledging Peter's statement, Harry snorted and said, "He's a freakin' coward, you know, despite what you and MJ would like to say about him. He pretended he was Superman or something, a good noble superhero, rather than the frickin' murderer he really is. Sure, if no one, not even me, was around to see him kill my father, then most, if not some, of the city will still give him the benefit of the doubt and ignore what the Daily Bugle rightfully writes in its columns against that wall-rat. But when he's out in the open, pushing an innocent woman off the edge of a building, he'll try to desperately save face in front of countless witnesses, including Mary Jane, by pretending to give CPR to her. But in the end, Indy went into a coma that she later died two weeks later from, and Spider-Man just slunk away, never for New York to ever see him again. I'd say good riddance, if it weren't for the fact that it's just not enough." He slammed his fist onto the tabletop with a loud bang at those last few words, and that attracted the attention of a few Drip Den patrons who were sipping their coffees at similar tables outside.

Neither Peter nor Harry encouraged those onlookers' attention, as Peter deliberately avoided eye contact with them, though Harry seemed completely oblivious to the eyes that were lying on him and his best friend.

After Peter was sure that the patrons lost interest in him and Harry by looking out of the corner of one of his eyes, he said, "Harry, I'm going to repeat myself about this just one more time–I don't know where Spider-Man is. So, like I said, drop it." He then stood up from his chair.

"Where're you going?" Harry asked with a hint of restrained aggression in his tone.

"I have to find something in Manhattan, if not the whole city, that's worth my talents and wage as a photographer," Peter replied. He turned around and walked away, neither he nor Harry saying another word to each other as Peter walked around the corner a block away and disappeared to find something worth a decent paycheck.

But throughout the entire time that Peter was walking away, the latter's back facing his best friend, Harry gave Peter a death-stare.

~o~

Later that night, in a random abandoned warehouse in Manhattan, a meeting was being held by thirteen criminals around a makeshift table.

At the head of the table was the leader of this band of criminals, who had snow-white hair that was most likely dyed, orange-tinted goggles, a blue leather jacket, and a pair of gauntlets on his hands. The only name that the cronies around him knew him by was the Shocker. The reason that he named himself that was because of the functionality of the gauntlets in his hands.

"Now that I see that everyone's here," the Shocker began, "it's time to get down to business.

"Tomorrow night, Harry Osborn, the CEO of the successful OsCorp Industries, will be having his birthday party in his big ol' penthouse of an apartment. The half of us who take the second van for when we raid that party will follow my van, so no one will have to worry about knowing the address. Just make sure you stick close by, though not too close–we don't want any cops gettin' too suspicious.

"At the penthouse, we make a good entrance in being fashionably late for the party. There, we'll do the usual stick-up, and demand Osborn for half the money in his bank account, which we'll all split evenly afterwards. However, our real priority in this heist is to act as mercenaries and take out a certain guest that'll arrive at the party just after we do: Spider-Man."

One of the goons nearby the Shocker raised up his hand. "Yes?" the leader of the group asked.

"A couple of questions," the goon said.

"Sure," the Shocker replied.

"First, how are we so sure that Spider-Man will show up there?" the goon asked. "That stinkin' wall-crawler hasn't been seen in over three months. Second, who's paying us to do this job?"

"First, the guy who came to me and agreed to pay us to do this job, which is combined with the money we'll get from Osborn's bank account, said for certain that Spider-Man show up for sure," the Shocker said. "I was a little skeptical about this myself, but I went along with it anyway. Second, the guy himself would prefer to anonymous; in other words, Joe, none of your business.

"Anymore questions?"

Everyone else around the table shook their heads.

"Good," the Shocker responded. "So everyone knows what to do?" After his goons all said, "Yes," simultaneously, the Shocker continued, "Excellent. So we'll meet back here tomorrow at ten at the time of the party, we're ago..." Then he raised up a gauntlet, pointed it to the ceiling, and concluded, "and Spider-Man is toast."

At that, a burst of plasma fire shot out of that gauntlet, causing an explosion at the ceiling it was directed at, and left nothing more there than a giant, jagged hole.

"God, I love doing that," the Shocker muttered to himself.

~o~

The next day, Peter walked back up the stairs leading to his floor of this crappy building, with nothing more than a hundred bucks that J. Jonah Jameson paid him for the pictures he took of a few crimes that he happened to be nearby, and which the police stopped. But here, in New York, a city where some called it the crime capital of America, crimes like thievery and even murder were fairly, and sadly, commonplace in Manhattan.

Well, it could be worse, Peter thought. At least he got some money out of the pictures he took.

But as he walked to his room, he heard the sound of the TV inside. He instantly knew something was wrong, though his spider-sense didn't warn him of any danger that he should prepare for once he was in his apartment. But nevertheless, he prepared for the worst; he never turned the TV on throughout his entire stay in this building, as he didn't want to pay any unnecessary bills alongside his rent–so he certainly wouldn't leave it on. It was a wonder none of the neighbors ever wondered about it or reported to either him or the police.

Quietly, and slowly, Peter put the key in the doorknob of his room, and then, with his spider-like reflexes, he unlocked the door and swung it open, prepared to fight off whatever burglars or whatever were in here.

Instead, what he found on the couch were two teenage boys, one fairly skinny and the other fairly muscular, both wearing regular clothes. The skinny teen reacted in shock and let out a scream at the sight of Peter barging in, while the muscular teen, eating Ruffles chips, simply looked over to Peter with a dumb look, swallowed the chip he chewed up, and said in a low, base voice, "Hi."

"Who are you two kids, and what're you doing in my apartment?" Peter asked, still prepared to deal with any trouble these boys might dole out on him, however little.

"Oh, I'm so sorry that we did this, Mr. Parker," the skinny boy said. He had an English accent. "It's just that, had we met you anywhere else, we'd attract unwanted suspicion from others."

"Oh?" Peter asked. "Regarding what? And you still haven't told me who either of you are." "Oh, yes, of course," the English teen said. "My name is Brian. My friend over here is Bernie. And we're here to give you this." Brian looked over to Bernie. "Bernie, if you will."

"Will what?" Bernie asked.

Brian rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Give me the suitcase?"

"Give me the suitcase..." Bernie trailed off as if expecting something from Brian.

Brian sighed in defeat. "Give me the suitcase please, Bernie."

"Well, I would, if my fingers weren't all salty from the chips, I would do it right now," Bernie replied. Then he licked his fingers, wiped them off his shirt, and prepared to grab the suitcase on his side of the couch.

"No, no, no, Bernie," Brian said, stopping his friend from grabbing the suitcase. "You don't grab the suitcase with the hand that with which you used to lick your fingers of chip salt. Use your other hand."

"But I have the remote in my other hand," Bernie said. As Brian slapped his own forehead in annoyance, Bernie continued, "And you know how awkward it is for me have my left hand reach over my right side, or my right hand reach over my left side."

After Brian ran his thumb and forefinger down the bridge of his nose, he said, "You know what, never mind, I'll get it myself."

As Brian got up off the couch, Bernie asked, "Well, if you could do it yourself, why did you ask me to do it then if you knew I couldn't grab it with either of my hands because of the chips and remote?"

Brian sighed. "I'm just glad you didn't compromise any of our missions yet, Bernie," he said.

"That doesn't answer my question," Bernie said.

"It doesn't have to," Brian replied as he grabbed the suitcase from Bernie's side of the couch.

"What does that mean?" Bernie asked.

"Never you mind, Bernie."

"Don't you just mean nevermind, Bernie. What's with the never-you-mind, Bernie?"

Brian looked at Bernie, took out a pencil and junior puzzle book from with his free hand, handed it to Bernie, and Bernie opened the puzzle book to play with like a child.

"Anyway, Mr. Parker, you don't mind closing the door, would you?" Brian asked. "We don't want anyone in the hallway to pass by and inconveniently look inside this suitcase."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "What's in that briefcase?"

"Take a guess as to why it would be so important for you to close that door," Brian replied.

After a few seconds, Peter's eyes widened at what guess he took, and he closed and locked the door behind him. When that was done, Brian opened up the suitcase, and Peter's guess was confirmed.

His Spider-Man costume was in there.

"Where did you get that?" Peter asked in shock.

"Friends of ours made this," Brian answered. "We weren't told what you did with your original costume, if you indeed got rid of it, so our friends made this."

After a short while of Peter looking at the Spider-Man costume in the suitcase, he looked back up to Brian and asked, "What do you want from me?"

"For you to return as Spider-Man," Brian said.

"What?" Peter asked. "I'm not Spider-Man. I never was."

Bernie looked up the puzzle he was working on and said sarcastically, "Sure, and I'm not Arnold Schwarzenegger."

"You're not Arnold Schwarzenegger, Bernie–you know what, just get back to your puzzle," Brian said, still annoyed of Bernie's apparent stupidity. "Listen, Peter, Bernie and I, along with our friends, all know who you are. And you have to come back, or else–"

"Or else what?" Peter interrupted. "You and your friends are gonna sell me out to the public and reveal my secret identity? You think I'll allow that?"

"That's not it at all, Mr. Parker," Brian said, shaking his head. He sighed and then said, "Listen, Mr. Parker–can I call you Peter?"

"No," Peter answered simply.

"Okay then," Brian said. "Mr. Parker, if you don't do this, something far worse will happen than any of what my friends could do to you; and it won't just happen to you, but it'll happen to everyone on ths planet."

"What're you talking about?" Peter asked.

"If you don't come back as Spider-Man, the world will come to an end," Bernie said, still working on his puzzle.

Peter looked at Bernie curiously, then back at Brian. Peter pointed at Bernie in a silent question of wonderment, and Brian nodded.

Peter adopted a look of perplexity about this before Brian said, "Peter, Bernie and I, along with our friends, are angels."

Perplexity changed to dull disbelief on Peter's face before he asked, "Angels?"

Brian nodded, in a look that said that Peter should bare with him. "Well, to be honest, I'm not actually an angel."

"Oh, so, you're just a regular kid who came with an idiotic angel to give me a Spider-Man suit and to tell me that if I don't come back, the world will end," Peter said, unbelieving.

"Actually, I'm not that either," Brian said. "I'm actually a demon from Hell who's working with angels to stop the threat that needs your help in stopping."

A few seconds later, Peter said with a blank expression and voice, "I'm sorry, are you joking about this?"

"No, I'm not," Brian said. "You see, it's a long story, so have a seat, and allow me to explain."

Brian then closed the suitcase and set it on the floor while Peter walked around the "demon from Hell" and took a seat next to the puzzle-working Bernie. Bernie took some time out of the puzzle he was working on and offered him chips, which Peter declined. While that happened, Brian turned off the TV and stood in front of it.

"In order for all this to make sense," Brian began, "I'll start from the very beginning. And by that, I mean the beginning of time itself.

"When God created this universe and many other universes billions of years ago into what could be termed the Multiverse, He created His angels to act as the overseers of the various universes that were in production. One of these angels was greater than even God's right hand himself, and that angel's name was Lucifer. As the Christian legends state, Lucifer became overly ambitious and tried to claim Heaven, the ultimate universe that oversaw the Multiverse, in order to rule over all of reality. But even with the help of his allies, of whom I was proudly a part of, Lucifer and the rest of us were defeated by God and those who were still loyal to Him. Hence, we were cast into a dimension of our own to rule over, as God wanted Lucifer and his disciples–again, such as myself–to know what power tasted like, and to know just what we had nearly achieved in our treachery so that for the rest of eternity, our punishment was to hunger for that power."

"You know, we still never forgave you for what you and the others nearly did, Brian," Bernie said in the middle of his puzzle-working.

"Would you just shut up and work on your puzzles?" Brian asked.

Bernie reluctantly did what Brian told him to do as Peter said, "So, as you were saying."

"Oh, yes, of course," Brian said. "Right. So, anyway; in the dimension that Lucifer and the rest of us would call home, we accumulated our own power, without the help of God or His supporters. Eventually, after quite a few eons, we finally became a force to be reckoned with to rival that of God and the angels; we sprung on the Multiverse, and introduced evil, countering that of God's good. It was a change that had been in the making for a long time, as much as Lucifer renaming himself Satan, nicknaming himself the Devil, and calling our realm Hell.

"When the power of Hell came to the Multiverse, God and the Devil's powers turned out to be too evenly matched for either to be defeated. So there was no choice between them but a compromise; good and evil would be balanced out throughout the Multiverse according to the missions of the agents of both Heaven and Hell alike. One of the agreements to this compromise was the creation of the sons of God and Satan; the Christ and the Antichrist respectively. The inhabitants of the realties that ultimately supported good would fall for the rule of the Christ, and those realties that supported evil would lean for the rule of the Antichrist. When those final fates of those respective realities were decided by the ultimate agent of Balance, Uatu the Watcher, a being co-created by both God and Satan to overlook the balance between good and evil in the Multiverse, then agents from either Heaven or Hell–angels or demons–would masquerade as the Christ or Antichrist for the rest of that universe's existence.

"However, the Devil's son, the Antichrist Memmon, had gotten tired of always having to simply play by the rules of his father and his enemy. So he secretly gathered up many supporters to stage a coup to overthrow his father, and then he would take over Hell. It took several centuries, from which Memmon continued the charade of pretending to be obedient to his father, until he and his followers made their move and overthrew Satan and his supporters. I was the only one of Satan's demons who managed to avoid being one of the coup's victims, and I observed what happened to the Devil and his loyalists–they had all been transported to a prison realm which Memmon himself fashioned during his time of gathering his own supporters, and which robbed Satan and his minions of their powers; so, you know, they wouldn't try to accumulate their own powers, brake free, and be a problem for Memmon later. After this, I escaped Hell and reported to Uatu the Watcher and told him of the power shift in Hell.

"And quite literally, just as that happened, the Multiverse was thrown out of whack. Universes and realities started to prematurely die off, explode, implode, etc., or experience some relatively minor issues that would only affect entire planets, solar systems, galaxies, etc. in a specific universe, but whose results were terribly severe. To list them all off would be unnecessary, as you probably get the idea by now, right?"

Peter nodded. "I get the gist. Go on."

"Anyway, not only did all of this physical and scientific crap happen, but the universes whose inhabitants were once under the sway of God's goodness suddenly turned evil and began worshipping the Antichrist, who took on the Multiversal persona of Ugly Kid."

"Ugly Kid?" Peter asked in perplexity.

"Throughout all of these universes dominated by humans, species who bear heavy physical similarities to them, etc. all portrayed Memmon's new persona of Ugly Kid as that of a..." Brian trailed off and took out something from his pocket. "You know what, I actually have a photo of what Ugly Kid looks like. Take a good look at that handsome mug of his."

Peter took the picture, and nearly jumped out of his seat at the horrifying visage that stared back at him. It was that of a horribly disfigured and somewhat overweight adolescent boy with pale white skin that defined the colors of his veins and arteries that ran across his face. But that wasn't even the defining aspect of his ugliness; his teeth appeared more wooden than George Washington's–or more wooden than Hayden Christensen's acting, depending on your viewpoint–while simultaneously looking sharped, curved, pointed, and appearing at odd angles and rows that seemed to defy all nature. A green tongue had slithered out between these absurdly uneven teeth like a lizard. But the biggest defining aspect of this horrifying photo was that of Ugly Kid's blood-red eyes that seemed to stare into the soul of whoever laid eyes upon him.

Looking at this picture, Peter felt lucky that at least Ugly Kid was wearing clothes, even though they seemed to be of a blood-red type that bordered onto being black.

After Peter gave Brian back the photo of Ugly Kid, the human-disguised demon continued, "So, anyway, as I was saying. Since we managed to have a common ID on Ugly Kid, we were able to track down a deep evil presence that was more concentrated in this particular universe out of all the other realities in the Multiverse. This occurred just as the bubonic plague came about, so we were pretty sure that Ugly Kid had somehow been birthed through the Black Death. We're not sure how he's able to be here on Earth and rule Hell simultaneously, but regardless, we had to job to do in eliminating him as a threat, so we proceeded to do just that.

"And so, after that, God agreed for me to be a temporary angel to side with the hundreds of angels who came into this universe, disguised as humans, in order to end Ugly Kid's life. In the meantime, God would take care of the realities that had been affected and are still being affected by the catastrophes that have been wrought throughout the Multiverse thanks to Ugly Kid's defiance of the Balance between good and evil. Ever since then, we've been hunting the Antichrist and his minions all across the globe."

"So, wait, if you've been hunting 'Ugly Kid' ever since the bubonic plague came about," Peter asked, "how the hell are you, Bernie, and the other 'angels' still alive?"

"The only power that God gave us before we went into this reality was for our biology to defy the aging gene for as long as was necessary to hunt down and kill Ugly Kid," Brian explained. "While all of the other angels were made into adults, God not only forced me to team up with this idiot here–" he indicated Bernie who was still distracted doing another puzzle "–but He turned both Bernie and I into teenagers in order to deny us the full dignity of adults. Because as you know, teenagers aren't as respected as adults, and while this doesn't necessarily affect our effectiveness in our abilities to accomplish whatever missions we're tasked with, Bernie and I won't be taken as seriously as the other angels."

"Why only you and Bernie?" Peter asked.

"Because God still hates me for turning on Him when we–that's Lucifer and the rest of his followers–tried to overthrow Him in the first place," Brian explained with a hint of controlled contempt in his voice. "And having Bernie be an adolescent like me was so I didn't go too crazy of being the only teenager with the angels. Of course, when you have this idiot around for an accomplice, that point becomes pretty moot, I'd say."

All the while, Bernie was still doing the junior puzzles.

"Okay then," Peter said. "So what does all this have to do with me? I mean, if you needed my help, why didn't you come to me in the first place once Spider-Man became part of the public headlines?"

"We didn't think we'd need your help at first," Brian explained. "But just a couple weeks ago, Uatu the Watcher transported himself into this reality and talked with our boss, Beatrice Lange, who informed her that he had a vision in which Spider-Man would somehow be instrumental in defeating Ugly Kid. He didn't give her any specifics as to what would happen, or how to contact you, which was why it took us so long to figure out who you were, make your costume, and track down your apartment.

"So, as I said, will you return as Spider-Man?"

Peter sighed. He looked at the open suitcase that contained his new Spider-Man costume, then looked back at Brian. "You know, no offense, but this all sounds way too outlandish, especially since I'm an atheist, what with me being a science major and all. So please excuse if I offend you with my doubtfulness of what you speak, or my wonderment why you and the angels didn't go to your actual human supporters in order to find Ugly Kid and kill him."

"Regarding that point, any mere human wouldn't have helped us in our duty, which is why we never went to our own Christian, Jewish, or even Muslim supporters in the first place," Brian explained. "They simply would've been hurt if they were to ever confront Ugly Kid or any of his minions, even with all the advancements and technology and weapons made over this planet's most recent centuries. But, like I said, Uatu said we need you, and I'd say you're not exactly a mere human, now are you?"

"No, I'm not," Peter reluctantly agreed. "But still... you must know that there's very little that'll convince me to believe you."

"Well, then, Mr. Parker, I will have to admit that I did lie about the part where Uatu told us your effectiveness in helping us stop Ugly Kid," Brian stated.

"And what exactly did you lie about?" Peter asked.

"When he told us that you'd help us in defeating Ugly Kid, he also told us what to remind you of in case you did disagree with what I already informed you of," Brian said. "And that was this: Simply because you failed several times as a hero, that doesn't mean you should just quit. Though it seems like nothing more than a coincidence, fate has given you these powers to use for all the good you can give out to those you can help. Failing doesn't mean that you yourself are a failure; that just means you are human. And for what you are as a hero, you have done far more good than evil. To simply to shirk all your responsibilities away because you made some errors, or because you feel you aren't being rewarded as a hero, is cowardice; and your Uncle Ben would be ashamed of you for that." Brian then turned to Bernie and said, "All right, puzzle time's over now, Bernie. Let's go."

"Aww," Bernie said like a disappointed kid whose fun was cut too short. But he was obedient enough to say, "Okay," give back the pencil and puzzle book, and followed Brian out the door.

For the rest of the evening, Peter was left on the couch to stare at the suitcase containing the Spider-Man costume that lay open before him.

To simply shirk all your responsibilities because you made some errors is cowardice, Peter heard Brian's voice say several times in his mind as he continued to stare at that Spider-Man costume.

~o~

Later that night, the Shocker and his goons met up at their abandoned warehouse hideout. There, they went into the two vans parked outside, and followed their leader's personal vehicle as they casually drove through Manhattan's streets like any other law-abiding New Yorker.

Meanwhile, at Harry's birthday party, Peter stood outside, leaning against the railing of the balcony, absent a drink in his hand unlike any of the other party guests, and simply observed New York's skyline.

After a while of this, his spider-sense tingled, and he looked down over the balcony to find two suspicious vans parking nearby some of the cars that a few of the guests came to the party from. When more than twelve men who were as suspicious as their vans came out and began approaching Harry's penthouse, Peter knew that something big was going to go down here tonight.

So he turned around, headed back inside, and went to find Harry amidst the crowd of dancing guests so that he could tell him that he had to go. When he found that it took a bit too long to find Harry, he ran into Mary Jane, and he told her in a hurry that he remembered he had a session with Professor Williams that he completely forgot about and was late for it as it was. Before giving MJ a chance to speak, Peter turned and headed for the exit.

Out in the halls, just as Peter exited Harry's apartment, he turned to find an elevator across the hall coming up from the ground floor. Fearing the worst, Peter ran to the emergency stairs from the opposite side, and with no witnesses around, not even cameras in the hall surprisingly, Peter jumped over the stairs' railing to disappear out of sight. This happened just as the Shocker and his goons came out of the elevator that Peter saw coming up from the ground floor, but none of them saw him as they proceeded to the entrance to Harry's apartment.

The crooks all approached the entrance, and ran straight in. As his goons aimed their weapons at the now-terrified and helpless guests, the Shocker said, "Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you're all having a good time tonight. Because if everything goes well for me and my boys here, you'll enjoy the rest of the night with no threat of... lead poisoning in your drinks." He indicated his head to the weapons that were all aimed at the guests. "So let's make sure this all goes smoothly and painlessly as possible. Where's the man of the hour, Harry Osborn? Come on out, birthday boy."

Harry stood out from the crowd, several guns trained on him in case he pulled anything stupid. In spite of the threat to his life, he stood stiffly, arms crossed, his poker-face on, as he asked the Shocker, "What do you want?"

"Mr. Osborn," the Shocker began, "what my boys and I all want is half the cash from your very own personal bank account. Will you humor us and, you know, take out your cellphone and call the bank to make a generous withdrawal from your account? Or do we have to completely spoil this party by putting more holes in your guests than Swiss cheese?"

"Mmm, Swiss cheese sounds nice," a familiar voice said from behind the Shocker and his goons. When the crooks all swung around and instead pointed their weapons at the party's latest arrival, the Shocker smiled as the new guest said, "Though unless you're considering cannibalism, I don't think putting holes in humans would make for much of a good, civilized meal."

And standing tall and proud against the Shocker and his goons was the one, the only... the amazing Spider-Man.

To Be Continued...