Hello everyone! This is my fresh, clean, and edited version of Black
Widow. I had noticed that the previous version had many typos and several
paragraphs that needed replacement, so I went through the entire story and
scrubbed it clean. Much of it will seem the same, and the only chapters
that have large, noticeable paragraph changes are chapters 1 and chapter 7,
and the beginning chapters in general were some of the most worked on.
Thank you and enjoy, reviews most welcome!
Chapter 1- Madison Avenue
The day had been dragging on for hours, the air stifling, and all Peter Parker wanted to do was to throw sanity aside, leap through the grimy glass and web swing through the streets of New York. The hum of computers and the click of keyboards filled the newsroom as he sighed and turned away from it all to stare forlornly out the window of the huge newspaper building, chin in hand. It had been nearly a year since the disastrous episode with Oscorp and the Green Goblin. Since then everything had changed. Mary Jane was gone, having enrolled in a college at the edge of the city and almost never crossed his path, her heartbreak still evident in her eyes. Harry had vanished too, though this time literally. He had thrown himself into his work, getting deeply involved in huge, government funded projects, abandoning his identity and his friends in his frantic, one-track search to find a way to destroy Spiderman. The two people closest to our hero were gone.
Peter tapped a pencil against his chin, contemplating the turns his own life had sent him. After high school, he had joined the newspaper business, becoming, finally, and official photographer, and was paying his way through college. He lived in an apartment just a block away from the college, and visited his Aunt whenever possible. And Spiderman? Spiderman was still in business, albeit bored. With the publicity and thrill worn off, and nothing but simple muggers to take care of, Peter, aka Spiderman had to admit that even his most heroic rescues had become routine.
How could he possibly know that all of that was about to change?
Suddenly Peter jerked out of his reverie as he got the distinct feeling that someone was watching him. Turning his head slowly around, he blinked in surprise. It was that girl. The weird one, the journalist Jameson had just hired for God knows what reason. She seemed so cliché, with clothing that simply screamed "starving artist" : head-to-toe in black- black jeans, black turtleneck, black trench coat, and small artist spectacles that sat oddly over too large greenish eyes and a sharp, overly defined face. She had stopped typing and now held a pad in her hand, which she never stopped scribbling on. Her eyes never left his face, and all the while that strange, predatory grin seemed locked into place, like a cat surveying its next meal. He smiled weakly in return, unsure of what to do, and was completely taken aback when she spoke.
"Madison Avenue." Her voice was smooth and rolling.
He blinked again. "Excuse me?"
"Madison Avenue. That's my name, Superhero."
He nearly choked on his own spit. "What did you call me?"
"Superhero. You look it. Like Clark Kent in Superman. It's now your name. Everyone's gotta have a name."
He blinked yet again, confused. "I have a name."
"Yeah, probably, but I haven't bothered to find out. That's why I told you mine, so you'll have something to call me without having to resort to stupid nicknames."
"You could just ask me," he said, more confused than ever.
"But I really don't care, Superhero." She put the pad down and turned back to the computer. "Oh, and by the way, in a couple seconds that idiot of a boss is gonna come in and ask us to be partners for a story or something, and you're going to feel incredibly uneasy about what he's going to ask us to do."
He smiled faintly. "And how do you know that."
She turned to him, strange eyes lighting up. "It's in the script."
He found himself lost for words, and after a few seconds of her studiously ignoring him, he turned back to the window. He was shy to begin with, but not even the most glib talker could keep a steady steam of conversation with this girl. He found himself rolling his eyes. Madison Avenue? What kind of a name was that? And what was this about Mr. Jamison asking them to work together? In all respects, the boss still acted as though Peter were freelance, he didn't even speak to Peter except to hand out his pay check. Pigs would fly before that man actually asked him to . . .
"Parker! Avenue! In my office, now!"
The girl smiled at his stupor as she slid out of her seat and sauntered towards the huge office. After a few stunned seconds, Peter followed.
"So," Jameson marched into his office and stared out the window, hands clasped behind his back. He whirled around, heels clicking like and army general's, just as Peter tiptoed into the room and attempted to softly close the door. Madison frowned and slammed it shut with a bang as the boss continued to speak.
"It has come to my attention that some of our readers," he scowled out of the window at the pedestrians below, "actually want to read boring, non-flashy articles. Politics, science, the job market . . . Pah!" His scowl grew deeper. In his mind, breaking news sold – murder, mayhem – that's what the public wanted. He cleared his throat and stared at the duo with beady, hungry little eyes. "But, give the public what it wants – anything, so long as it sells. Parker!" He barked suddenly. "I trust you've met Miss Avenue?"
"We've met," Madison answered for him.
"Hmmm, well . . . she's one of several new journalists I've hired. The crowds want someone new, fresh! In consequence, I've been forced to hire every loony off the street," he stared hard at her all black apparel, and she flashed him a cheeky grin. He rolled his eyes and continued. "As I've already explained to Avenue, we are going to have a new current events section, explaining all the boring things the public wants to know about. You and Avenue will have this column to yourselves."
Peter stared at him, shocked. A column for himself? For his pictures only? This was too good to be true.
"Your first article will be dealing with the latest discoveries in modern genetic engineering. I need you and Avenue to head down to Oscorp to get the inside scoop." Peter visibly blanched. He had always managed to get out of doing any sort of article that had anything to do with Oscorp, blaming it on moral objections and severe arachnophobia. In reality, after all that had happened the year before, he just didn't think that he could take going inside of that building.
"I know that the research Oscorp does disturbs you Parker, and this is, as I explained to Miss Avenue earlier, one of the reasons I put you with a partner in the first place. But more importantly," he stared hard at them both, "I think that you two will be good for each other. Balance the other out, so to speak." He made a weak attempt at a smile. "Now get the hell out of my office, you little morons. I'll expect your first article on my desk Monday morning."
Peter ventured one last time to get out of this. "Sir . . . "
"Goodbye, Parker," he growled ominously. Madison frowned and pulled him out of the office, closing the door gently behind her.
Once they were safely out of hearing range, Peter turned to her, an extremely pissed-off look on his face.
"What the hell do you think your playing at?" he hissed, suddenly furious at her earlier deception. The boss's words rang in his ears. 'As I explained to Miss Avenue earlier . . . ' Jameson had told her about the column and about his uneasiness. That's how she knew earlier what was going to happen.
She turned to him with a falsely puzzled look on her face. "What are you talking about, partner?"
He decided right then and there that there was something seriously and unchangeably screwed up with this girl. "I'm talking about how you had me freaked earlier. I thought you had freakin' ESP or something." He knew how childish he sounded, but he hated the thought of her getting one up on him, being able to throw him off balance.
She watched him thoughtfully for a moment. "You've just gotta learn not to take everything everybody tells you at face value. Learn how to read between the lines, Superhero, and learn fast. If you don't, I don't know how we're ever going to survive working together." She walked off towards the elevator, throwing back a "See you tomorrow, Superhero!" over her shoulder. Peter leaned against a cubicle, slightly flustered and with a bruised ego. What had he gotten himself into?
Don't forget to review!
Chapter 1- Madison Avenue
The day had been dragging on for hours, the air stifling, and all Peter Parker wanted to do was to throw sanity aside, leap through the grimy glass and web swing through the streets of New York. The hum of computers and the click of keyboards filled the newsroom as he sighed and turned away from it all to stare forlornly out the window of the huge newspaper building, chin in hand. It had been nearly a year since the disastrous episode with Oscorp and the Green Goblin. Since then everything had changed. Mary Jane was gone, having enrolled in a college at the edge of the city and almost never crossed his path, her heartbreak still evident in her eyes. Harry had vanished too, though this time literally. He had thrown himself into his work, getting deeply involved in huge, government funded projects, abandoning his identity and his friends in his frantic, one-track search to find a way to destroy Spiderman. The two people closest to our hero were gone.
Peter tapped a pencil against his chin, contemplating the turns his own life had sent him. After high school, he had joined the newspaper business, becoming, finally, and official photographer, and was paying his way through college. He lived in an apartment just a block away from the college, and visited his Aunt whenever possible. And Spiderman? Spiderman was still in business, albeit bored. With the publicity and thrill worn off, and nothing but simple muggers to take care of, Peter, aka Spiderman had to admit that even his most heroic rescues had become routine.
How could he possibly know that all of that was about to change?
Suddenly Peter jerked out of his reverie as he got the distinct feeling that someone was watching him. Turning his head slowly around, he blinked in surprise. It was that girl. The weird one, the journalist Jameson had just hired for God knows what reason. She seemed so cliché, with clothing that simply screamed "starving artist" : head-to-toe in black- black jeans, black turtleneck, black trench coat, and small artist spectacles that sat oddly over too large greenish eyes and a sharp, overly defined face. She had stopped typing and now held a pad in her hand, which she never stopped scribbling on. Her eyes never left his face, and all the while that strange, predatory grin seemed locked into place, like a cat surveying its next meal. He smiled weakly in return, unsure of what to do, and was completely taken aback when she spoke.
"Madison Avenue." Her voice was smooth and rolling.
He blinked again. "Excuse me?"
"Madison Avenue. That's my name, Superhero."
He nearly choked on his own spit. "What did you call me?"
"Superhero. You look it. Like Clark Kent in Superman. It's now your name. Everyone's gotta have a name."
He blinked yet again, confused. "I have a name."
"Yeah, probably, but I haven't bothered to find out. That's why I told you mine, so you'll have something to call me without having to resort to stupid nicknames."
"You could just ask me," he said, more confused than ever.
"But I really don't care, Superhero." She put the pad down and turned back to the computer. "Oh, and by the way, in a couple seconds that idiot of a boss is gonna come in and ask us to be partners for a story or something, and you're going to feel incredibly uneasy about what he's going to ask us to do."
He smiled faintly. "And how do you know that."
She turned to him, strange eyes lighting up. "It's in the script."
He found himself lost for words, and after a few seconds of her studiously ignoring him, he turned back to the window. He was shy to begin with, but not even the most glib talker could keep a steady steam of conversation with this girl. He found himself rolling his eyes. Madison Avenue? What kind of a name was that? And what was this about Mr. Jamison asking them to work together? In all respects, the boss still acted as though Peter were freelance, he didn't even speak to Peter except to hand out his pay check. Pigs would fly before that man actually asked him to . . .
"Parker! Avenue! In my office, now!"
The girl smiled at his stupor as she slid out of her seat and sauntered towards the huge office. After a few stunned seconds, Peter followed.
"So," Jameson marched into his office and stared out the window, hands clasped behind his back. He whirled around, heels clicking like and army general's, just as Peter tiptoed into the room and attempted to softly close the door. Madison frowned and slammed it shut with a bang as the boss continued to speak.
"It has come to my attention that some of our readers," he scowled out of the window at the pedestrians below, "actually want to read boring, non-flashy articles. Politics, science, the job market . . . Pah!" His scowl grew deeper. In his mind, breaking news sold – murder, mayhem – that's what the public wanted. He cleared his throat and stared at the duo with beady, hungry little eyes. "But, give the public what it wants – anything, so long as it sells. Parker!" He barked suddenly. "I trust you've met Miss Avenue?"
"We've met," Madison answered for him.
"Hmmm, well . . . she's one of several new journalists I've hired. The crowds want someone new, fresh! In consequence, I've been forced to hire every loony off the street," he stared hard at her all black apparel, and she flashed him a cheeky grin. He rolled his eyes and continued. "As I've already explained to Avenue, we are going to have a new current events section, explaining all the boring things the public wants to know about. You and Avenue will have this column to yourselves."
Peter stared at him, shocked. A column for himself? For his pictures only? This was too good to be true.
"Your first article will be dealing with the latest discoveries in modern genetic engineering. I need you and Avenue to head down to Oscorp to get the inside scoop." Peter visibly blanched. He had always managed to get out of doing any sort of article that had anything to do with Oscorp, blaming it on moral objections and severe arachnophobia. In reality, after all that had happened the year before, he just didn't think that he could take going inside of that building.
"I know that the research Oscorp does disturbs you Parker, and this is, as I explained to Miss Avenue earlier, one of the reasons I put you with a partner in the first place. But more importantly," he stared hard at them both, "I think that you two will be good for each other. Balance the other out, so to speak." He made a weak attempt at a smile. "Now get the hell out of my office, you little morons. I'll expect your first article on my desk Monday morning."
Peter ventured one last time to get out of this. "Sir . . . "
"Goodbye, Parker," he growled ominously. Madison frowned and pulled him out of the office, closing the door gently behind her.
Once they were safely out of hearing range, Peter turned to her, an extremely pissed-off look on his face.
"What the hell do you think your playing at?" he hissed, suddenly furious at her earlier deception. The boss's words rang in his ears. 'As I explained to Miss Avenue earlier . . . ' Jameson had told her about the column and about his uneasiness. That's how she knew earlier what was going to happen.
She turned to him with a falsely puzzled look on her face. "What are you talking about, partner?"
He decided right then and there that there was something seriously and unchangeably screwed up with this girl. "I'm talking about how you had me freaked earlier. I thought you had freakin' ESP or something." He knew how childish he sounded, but he hated the thought of her getting one up on him, being able to throw him off balance.
She watched him thoughtfully for a moment. "You've just gotta learn not to take everything everybody tells you at face value. Learn how to read between the lines, Superhero, and learn fast. If you don't, I don't know how we're ever going to survive working together." She walked off towards the elevator, throwing back a "See you tomorrow, Superhero!" over her shoulder. Peter leaned against a cubicle, slightly flustered and with a bruised ego. What had he gotten himself into?
Don't forget to review!