Ghoul Fan Fiction Finale

ghoul-ultraverse-exiles-ultraforce-a

With five guns now swinging my way, I didn’t have time to check on the Punisher’s condition just yet. I hoped that I could get all five men with one long burst from the automatic pistol. After I mowed down the first two men, the gun began clicking. Damn. I was out of ammo. I dropped the empty gun and drew the two pistols I had in my shoulder holsters.

By that time, the remaining three men had trained their guns on me and opened fire. I was hit by a barrage of bullets. None of them really did any major damage to me. Most of my coat and shirt were gone. My left pinky finger and my right middle finger had been shot off. Although I wasn’t a hundred percent sure, I was pretty sure my hat was now gone too.

Their shots did nothing to slow my own attacks. My trigger fingers worked furiously, sending speeding metal at the jackasses who were doing their best to kill me. Two of them fell with new holes in their bodies. The third man had taken cover before I could get him in my sights. A metallic ring sounded off to my left and I remembered that he was the grenade thrower.

While the grenade wouldn’t kill me, being blown up would severely hamper my ability to do….anything, really.

I dove to my right and hoped that it’d be enough. The explosion came as I hit the floor. Looking back to where it had gone off, I saw that I was now missing my left foot. It wasn’t ideal, but it could’ve been a lot worse. My guns had miraculously managed to stay in my hands, so I made ready for when the grenade thrower moved from cover to check on his handiwork.

Sure enough, he peeked around the corner to look in my direction. I shot the second I saw his head. From the other side of the room, someone else shot at the same time I did. Grenade thrower’s head literally exploded as two bullets tore through it. The Punisher stepped out of the doorway he had been using for cover, the barrel of his assault rifle smoking.

There were some dents in his body armor, and some small cuts on his arms and legs, but the grenade didn’t do him any major damage. I assume he found something to hide behind before it went off. “What’re you doing here,” he gruffly asked.

“Saving your life,” I replied while rolling my eyes. “Now, could you stop being an ungrateful ass and hand me my foot?”

Grunting slightly in response, he did as I asked. Once I had my foot back in place, I picked my two fingers off the ground and reattached them. To test them out, I held up my right middle finger up to the Punisher. “It works,” I said.

He ignored my awesome joke and moved further into the mansion. We made our way through the rest of it with ease. I would go into a room first and draw all of the fire. That left the Punisher free to take them out without having to worry about being under fire himself. It was the most efficient fight I had ever had in my “superhero” career. Well, when working with someone without powers, anyway.

The last room we got to was the master bedroom. When I busted down the door, Dallos stood alone. He was unarmed and holding his hands in the air. “I give up,” he pleaded. “I surrender.”

I thought of the sadness I saw on Amanda’s face when her spirit talked to me. “He’s all yours,” I told the Punisher as I turned and walked out of the room.

I wasn’t sure what he was going to do to Dallos, but I was sure that I didn’t want to be there when he did it. Besides, the sounds of the gunfight had been noticed. Police sirens played outside the house. Flashing red and blue lights could be seen in the windows in the front of the house. I needed to get the hell out of there.

I took off my shirt and trenchcoat, since they were nothing more than tatters now, and grabbed replacements from one of the other bedrooms. The shirt was fine, but there wasn’t a coat as good as my trenchoat at obscuring my face. Grabbing the best thing available, I threw it on and vowed to put my ring back on as soon as I possibly could. I also tucked a change of clothes under the jacket for when I found a place without any cameras.

The police were only at the front of the mansion at that point, so I was able to slip out the back undetected. I took a random route for a while, just in case someone was behind me. After finding a suitable place, I put on my  ring and changed my clothes. Once that was done, I hailed a cab and took it back to my office. Just like last time, I walked in to find the Punisher sitting behind my desk.

“Did you honestly think I wouldn’t figure out that you had taken the file,” he asked.

“I honestly don’t care that you know I took it,” I responded.

“I’ve seen firsthand that bullets don’t do much against you,” he grinned as he pulled something out of his pocket. “I also saw you run from a grenade. You made my work tonight far easier than it normally is, so it would be a shame if I had to use this on you. Give me the file, and we’ll part ways as friends.”

If I had lips, I would’ve smiled. Instead, I said, “Crop dust.”

He began to frantically look around, but didn’t see anything. I could tell he was debating using the grenade, but there was no guarantee that he’d be able to escape the blast when I was this close to him. Within seconds, his arms began to droop. Not long after he slumped over completely.

“Paralyzing gas,” I told him. “A friend of mine got it for me from S.H.I.E.L.D. It works really fast once it gets into the bloodstream. Another benefit of being dead is that I no longer have blood, so it doesn’t affect me at all. I wasn’t sure that I’d ever need this setup, but I like to be prepared.

“I could easily kill you right now, and I bet that I’d be the best friend of many spirits roaming the city tonight if I did, but I won’t be doing that. What I am going to do is drop this off at the police station. I’m pretty sure that a lot of the people in this file probably have enough people paid off that this won’t hurt them too much, but I think some of them will face some time because of this.

“All I’m really sure of right now is what will happen if you get your hands on this: My city will gain a lot of new spirits. You may not care, because you’re done with them once they’re dead, but I do. I don’t want to have to deal with a lot of disgruntled mobsters that you set your crosshairs on.”

I walked over to stand in front of him and put my face right in front of his. “I know you can hear me, so listen up. You’re going to stay right where you are until the gas wears off and then you’re going to disappear from my life forever. I’ve heard you’re not to big about letting things go, so if you ever get the urge to come after me, I want you to remember something. I want you to remember how many people you’ve killed. How many of those spirits would help me against you?

“Sure, you could hurt me with that grenade, but you still wouldn’t kill me. And, once I recovered, I would use every one of those spirits to find out every single thing about you. With help like that, I’d be able to take you out before you even knew I was coming after you. Or, maybe I’d use them to warn every person you’re targeting that you’re coming after them. I suppose I could always scare away anyone who supplies your gear, too. There’s really no end to the things I could do to disrupt your crusade.”

I walked to the door, put my hand on the knob, and turned my head towards him. “No matter which option you choose, I will always be ok in the end. All you’re really doing is choosing how hard your life will be from now on. It’s up to you, Frank.”

With that, I walked out the door, hopefully to never see the Punisher again.

Ghoul Fan Fiction Part 6

ghoul-ultraverse-exiles-ultraforce-a

Once again, the Punisher looked pissed that I was having a conversation that he couldn’t hear both sides of. I didn’t care. “Cook took your grandson,” I asked, not really believing. “With you and Amanda both dead, your grandson gives him no leverage over anyone. Why would he do that?”

“I’m a ghost, not a mind reader, you jackass,” McKenzie retorted. “How the hell should I know?”

“He has two sons around that age,” the Punisher interjected with a shrug. “Maybe one of them is the father. Or, maybe it’s Cook himself, if she had a thing for older men.”

“They had better not be,” Robert fumed. “She told me it was some boy from school. I swear if any of those three even thought about touching my daughter, I’ll kill all of them.”

“Focus, people,” I hollered. “Let’s get back to what matters. We have a deal, McKenzie. If you tell me where you hid those files, we’ll go get your grandson.”

“It’s behind an air vent in Dallos’ billiards room.”

“You hid your files in Dallos’ house?”

“If I was trying to hide something from you, would you look in your own house for it?”

“Good point. Wouldn’t he notice that the air flow is being disrupted, though? There’s no way those files are letting air go by them.”

“They’re on a flash drive.”

“Amanda said you kept all your files on paper because you didn’t trust computers.”

“Do you know how many people in this city are in the business? I’d need a warehouse to keep files on all of them on paper. I was forced to make an exception.”

“It’s really annoying when you talk to people who aren’t there and don’t tell me what they say,” the Punisher grumbled.

“It’s not important,” I countered. “Let’s just go get his grandson.”

“I don’t think so. I’m going to Dallos’ house to get the files.” The look on my face must’ve shown my confusion  because he clarified, “I still heard your side of the conversation, genius.”

I thought back. Had I said where the files were out loud? Damn it! I had.

By the time I turned to try to convince the Punisher to change his mind, he was already halfway out the door. “Let him go,” McKenzie said. “We don’t need him. You’re immortal, right?”

“More or less.”

“Then you’ve got nothing to fear from a bunch of guys with guns.”

I stood up and got my gear together. Once I had both of my shoulder holsters on, and full, I put a couple of extra clips of ammo in my pocket. An old rickety jacket was thrown over my shoulders to cover the guns up as I walked out of my office.

When I was around halfway to Cook’s house, I ditched the old jacket in an alley and put on my tan trenchcoat, that I had been carrying underneath the other jacket. I put on the other garment that I had under my jacket, my brimmed hat, and pulled up the collars. My face needed to be as obscured as possible. Once I had it hidden as best I could, I pulled off the magic ring. Immediately, I returned to my actual appearance.

“What did you do that for,” McKenzie griped disgustedly.

“As far as the world knows,” I replied, ignoring the ghost’s tone of voice, “Jonathan Martin is just a regular private investigator. If a surveillance camera catches him entering, or even near, a place right before a gun fight breaks out, his life becomes far more difficult. For tonight, I’m Ghoul.”

“If you say so, pal,” I thought I heard Robert mutter, but I ignored the dead bastard.

The remainder of the walk was fairly uneventful. Most people ignored my horrid appearance. I told the few who didn’t that I was on my way to a zombie walk, which they applauded. That’s one of the great things about living in New York City. Nothing is considered weird here.

Unlike Dallos, who had a house out in the suburbs, Cook resided in a fairly swanky building in the city. Swanky enough to have a doorman, anyway. I had a way around him, though. All I had to do was walk up to him and show him my face. Naturally, he freaked and tried to run away, but I  grabbed him by the collar of the ridiculous looking jacket they made him wear and made him open the door first. Once he did, I released him and he ran away screaming.

After I got inside, McKenzie, who had been here many times before, directed me on where to go. I got on the elevator and hit the floor number he indicated. While I was going up, I pulled my guns out of their holsters, expecting trouble as soon as the doors opened. There was none.

The doors opened up directly into the living area, an entertainment room by the looks of it. Cook sat on the couch watching TV, with the infant in his hands. Obviously, he heard me approach because without turning around he said, “It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. Amanda wasn’t supposed to die. But, Dallos moved too quickly. I couldn’t stop him.”

“Where are your bodyguards?”

“I don’t have any. I’m a secret mobster, remember?”

He turned to face me for the first time. To his credit, he didn’t react to my visage. “I thought you were the Punisher,” he admitted.

“No,” I responded, “I’m much more charming than he is. I can, however, kill you just as dead as he can if you keep lying to me. Now, where are your bodyguards?”

“I’m not lying. Not tonight, at least. There’s nobody here but us. Everyone else is at Dallos’ house.”

Uh oh. “What are they doing there?”

“Dallos killed Amanda  because he didn’t believe her when she said she couldn’t get the file for us. He thought she was working with someone else to hide it from us. After he killed her, he said we wouldn’t need to look for her partner because they’d come after him for revenge. So, now he’s got all of our guys, plus some extra muscle he hired on, waiting for whoever shows up.”

Damn, I thought. The Punisher is about to walk into an ambush and I have no way of warning him.

Ghoul Fan Fiction Part 5

 

ghoul-ultraverse-exiles-ultraforce-a

As soon as the Punisher told me that he wasn’t planning on killing her, I should’ve known something was wrong. The aura of death surrounding Amanda told me it was coming, but I pushed it aside when I took her away from him. I still felt it, even if I didn’t admit it to myself. Had I listened to it, maybe she’d still be alive right now.

“Hey, Martin,” the Punisher snapped my last name. “What the hell is going on? Why were you whispering to nobody?”

“You know how the Hulk is green and can throw heavy things?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I got the green part down. I just can’t pick up cars. What I can do, though, is talk to the dead, and Amanda’s spirit just came to me.”

“You think you can talk to ghosts?”

“So do ghosts. And I have three of them here that want to talk to you.. A woman with two children. Do you want to talk to them…. Frank?”

If I were in a different situation, I might laugh at his facial expression. It was rage, confusion, and sadness all rolled into one. I didn’t have time for laughs right now. “What’s it gonna be,  Frank,” I asked impatiently. “You gonna talk to them?”

“Fine,” he conceded with a snarl. “You can talk to ghosts. But if you ever bring up that woman and the children again, I don’t care how unkillable you think you are, I will find a way to end your existence.”

Once again, I wanted to laugh. Oh sure, he could blow me up into a million pieces. That would certainly slow me down while my body put itself back together, but he couldn’t kill me. Trust me, more powerful people than him have tried.

“Fine,” I mocked his earlier tone.

“What happened to her?”

“All she said was that she left the place I had her stashed to get her son and that ‘they’ were waiting on her.”

“Who is ‘they’?”

“I’m assuming she’s talking about her father’s associates, Cook and Dallos.”

“She better not be talking about Cook. I made it very clear to him that nothing was to happen to her.”

“What are you talking about? You’re in contact with Cook?”

“I’ve gone up against a lot of gangsters in my time, but McKenzie was one of the smartest I’ve come across. Hell, I didn’t even know about him until about a month ago. The only reason I know about him is Cook. He never said how, but he and Dallos found out about him. They weren’t very happy that their old friend had been conning and using them.

“So, they decided to start making some side deals on their own. The problem with that was they weren’t as smart as McKenzie and they caught my attention. I busted in on a deal that Cook was making with the Russians for some guns. He started cowering when the shooting started. After I killed everyone else, he tried making a deal with me. I played along with it at first, but eventually we came to an understanding.”

“And what was that?”

“He’d tell me everything he knew in exchange for me not killing his two sons when I took down the family. They were low level guys who really hadn’t done much anyways, so I was ok with giving him that one. That’s when he told me about McKenzie and what was in his files.”

“Sorry, but I  kinda tuned you out when you told me what was in there earlier. I was shocked when I saw Amanda walk in. What’s so important that’s in those files?”

“Dirt on every mid to major organized crime figure in the city. I don’t know how he did it, but he got incriminating evidence on all of them. That way, if anyone pushed too hard to find out his true identity, McKenzie would blackmail them into backing off.”

“Well, I’m sorry to say, but I think that file is lost. McKenzie wouldn’t tell me where it was, and Amanda didn’t know.”

“How can you be sure that she doesn’t know where it is?”

“Because she hired me to find it. I asked her dad where it was, but he wouldn’t tell me.”

“I’ll tell you now,” a voice interrupted. Robert McKenzie stood behind the Punisher, staring at me. “But, if I do, you have to do something for me.”

I held up a finger to stop the Punisher before he started talking. “What do you want me to do,” I asked him.

“When they killed my daughter, Cook took my grandson. I  want you to get him back.”

Ghoul Fan Fiction Part 1

ghoul-ultraverse-exiles-ultraforce-a

Things have been a little on the boring side ever since I came to this world. Well, boring compared to my old life anyway. I used to run with a couple of superpowered teams. My first gig in this universe was my old standby of driving a taxi. Even when sitting in traffic, and experiencing other people’s road rage on a daily basis, it was never quite as exciting as battling it out with a bad guy. My power, however isn’t very useful in a fight. So, I’ve stayed out of all of the superpower business. Somehow, I even managed to keep myself out of that whole Civil War mess.

Still, I felt like my power was going to waste. My old pal Dane, the Black Knight in case you didn’t know, suggested that I become a private eye, specializing in finding things thought to be lost when a loved one passes away. I don’t always see eye to eye with him on everything,  but he was right about this one. Not only does it let me use my powers, but I make pretty good money doing it. There’s also a sense of satisfaction when I’m able to find what the client is looking for. If I’m able to give them something  from a deceased loved one, it helps bring a little closure for  both the client and the person who passed away.

The things I’m asked to find fall into two categories. The first is sentimental, a personal object that reminds them of the person that they lost. The second is monetary, money or jewelry that the person had stashed away somewhere.

At first, this case seemed like both.

******************

There was something unsettling about this place. I didn’t know if it was because I had never been in a closed restaurant before or something else. All I knew is that I didn’t like it here.

“Mr. Martin,” she said, breaking my uneasy thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I was trying to get a feel for this place. What did you say?”

“I asked if you had any questions for me.”

“Right,” I mumbled, turning my attention back to her. “Ms. McKenzie…”

“No need to be formal. Call me Amanda.”

I wanted to point out that she had started the formality by calling me Mr. Martin, but I held it back. “I’d like start by saying I’m sorry that you lost your father. Was this place special to him?”

“Very. He owned this place and was here just about every night.”

“And what is it of your father’s that you’re wanting me to find?”

“Any and all documents that have to do with this restaurant: recipes, supply lists, financial records. Things like that. None of it was kept in the safe deposit box along with his will.”

“Shouldn’t things like that be on his computer?”

“My father didn’t trust computers. He said that they get hacked too easily. Everything in the restaurant was done on paper.”

“I’ll see what I can do for you, Amanda. Now, is anyone else in the restaurant right now?”

“No. The chefs won’t be in for another hour or so to start their prep work. We’re all alone.”

That last sentence was said in a way that was very inviting. Because being dead puts a serious hurt on any romances I might have, I wear my appearance altering ring as if it were a wedding band to try to prevent situations like this. Before I died, I would’ve loved being hit on by Amanda. She was an attractive girl, somewhere in her college years. Nowadays it is just a nuisance.

“Good,” I said, making a show of playing with my ‘wedding’ ring. “Could you please leave as well? I need some time to look the place. Just give me ten minutes.”

If she was offended by my refusal, she didn’t show it. “How exactly are you going to find anything in ten minutes,” she asked instead.

“I can’t tell you that,” I replied. “The secret of my success will stay with me.”

She shrugged her shoulders and began walking towards the front door behind me. As soon as she passed me, the uneasy feeling I’ve had since I got here exploded in my stomach. It began radiating upward, so much so that I had trouble breathing for a few seconds. It was then that I realized that the feeling wasn’t coming from this place. It was coming from Amanda herself.

Now, it doesn’t happen very often, but every once in a while my powers will flare up like this. It only happens when I’m in the presence of somebody who is going to die soon.

My powers won’t tell me exactly when, but given the intensity of the feeling, it was going to be soon. Very soon. Amanda reeked of death.

Spider-Man Fan Fiction 6

It took a couple of minutes, but his vision returned to normal. He had gone up against foes that had packed a punch before (Green Goblin, Doctor Octopus, Sandman), but none of them had ever made him feel like this after a fight. Sitting up quickly, he waited to see if his head would start swimming again. Thankfully, it didn’t.

Common sense would dictate that he should recuperate before facing Morbius again. The thought of doing that filled Peter with dread. It needed to be done, though. Dr. Connors said that the parts that Morbius stole could be used to make the vampire even stronger and more dangerous than he already was. That was something that couldn’t be allowed. Now all he had to do was find him.

Judging by the number of bodies he found in the sewers, Morbius probably lived nearby. He’d also want to avoid heavily trafficked areas. The fangs and the all black attire wouldn’t help him blend into a crowd. Of course, the pieces of machinery he was trying to use probably required a lot of electricity to operate them, so he needed access to a heavy grid.

After his romp through the sewers, Spider-Man had lost track of where he was. With the slinging of a web, he was airborne once more. He climbed higher into New York’s skyline until he was able to get a good view of the surrounding area. None of it looked very promising. Most of the streets around him were covered with pedestrians. The only place that wasn’t was a block that was covered in construction crews adding another building to the already crowded city.

He didn’t really have a better place to start, so he swung on down. A couple of construction workers up on a crane saw him and waved. “How are you doing, fellas,” Spider-Man asked as he landed next to the men.

“I don’t believe it, Charlie,” the first man said. “I’m talking to Spider-Man. The guys at the bar are gonna call me a liar when I tell them this.”

“I know, Mitch,” Charlie responded. “We’re talking to a real life superhero.”

“Guys,” Spider-Man interrupted. “I hate to cut this love fest short, but I need your help. Have either of you seen a guy dressed in black with incredibly white skin come this way?”

“You mean Dr. Mike,” Mitch asked.

“Funny you should mention him,” Charlie added. “He just came through here a few minutes ago. He seemed kinda spooked. Normally, he’ll stop and talk to us for a few minutes when he comes back from dinner, but he just walked right on by us tonight.”

“Where does he live,” Spider-Man questioned.

“I’m not sure,” Mitch replied. “All we know is he walks down that way. There’s nothing really down that way, though.”

After thanking the men, he took off down the way that they indicated. They were right. The street he walked down was a dead end at another construction site. This was certainly a place that had little to no traffic. No lights were on anywhere in the construction site, so he wasn’t in there. Or, if he was, he was hiding. That’s when Spider-Man saw it. A group of heavy duty cables coming out of the ground. Right now, they weren’t connected to anything. Soon, however, they’d be used to provide power to whatever was being built here.

Morbius was back in the sewer.

Off to the side, Spider-Man caught a glimpse of the opening that Morbius was probably using. He quickly landed, opened the grate, and jumped down. Once again, the stench of the sewer assaulted his senses, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it was last time. No dead bodies were down this tunnel. Spider-Man scanned all around, but there were no visual clues as to where Morbius might be.

There was the faint humming sound of a machine running coming from behind him. Silently, he crept along the tunnel heading towards the noise. If possible, he wanted to catch Morbius unaware. Further up ahead, to the left, an unnatural hole marred the wall of the sewer. When he reached the opening, he quickly peeked around the corner. To his surprise, it appeared to be a less sophisticated version of Dr. Connors’ lab. Some of the equipment looked to be new, but most of it was outdated and worn. He could only assume that the old equipment was what was left over from Morbius’ accident.

Speaking of Morbius, Spider-Man saw him enter a clear glass chamber along the back wall of the sewer lab. Inside of the chamber, Doctor Octavius’ control panel was mounted to the side. The genetic marker finder of Doctor Connors was connected to it with some cables and it sat just outside the chamber. There was no way to approach the thing without Morbius seeing him. He tried to think of a way to get across the room as quickly as he could.

Suddenly, the electrical humming grew louder. Looking up, he saw that Morbius was furiously typing something into the control panel. The more he typed, the louder the humming became. Soon, Morbius’ fingers stopped moving, but the humming of the machinery grew to where it was close to deafening. Peter wasn’t sure what he should do. All he knew was that he should probably stop whatever was happening.

He leapt around the corner from where he was hiding and ran towards the chamber. Morbius’ eyes locked on him, but he didn’t move at all. His arms and legs were taut, shaking from what appeared to be strain. Whatever the machine was doing, it looked like it was incredibly painful to the doctor. Spider-Man was about ten feet away when the machinery reached a crescendo. It was immediately followed by a blinding light and he found himself flung to the floor.

When he was finally able to see again, he found Morbius still in the chamber, staring at his hands. With a cry of rage, the vampire struck the cage. Shards of glass flew in every direction. “That should’ve worked,” he cried in anguish. His gaze settling on Spider-Man again, he growled, “This is your fault. You interrupted the process. I warned you, Spider-Man. Now it’s time for you to die.”

Spider-Man Fan Fiction Part 5

Morbius dropped the limp form of his victim when he saw Spider-Man standing there. For a second, he did nothing. It appeared that the vampire was having an internal struggle on what to do next. Spider-Man didn’t want to wait too much longer, not if the thuggish man might still be alive. He took two steps forward with his hands raised in a placating manner.

The vampire wanted nothing to do with it. Morbius ran in the opposite direction. Spider-Man quickly ran to where the bleeding man lay. Kneeling down, he put his finger on the man’s neck, Spider-Man couldn’t feel a pulse. He was too late. Leaping back up, he took off in pursuit of the killer.

A hundred yards ahead, he saw moonlight pouring down from above. Morbius had gone back above ground. Not knowing where this manhole went, Spider-Man was slightly cautious as he tried to exit. Just as his head was about to come out of the manhole, his spider-sense went crazy. He ducked down in time to avoid the semi that drove over top of him.

His head popped up without a problem the second time. He looked all around as he stepped out onto the street. His spider-sense began tingling again. He turned in time to see Morbius swoop down out of the sky and slam hard into him. Spider-Man flew backwards into an empty bus stop. Metal dented and Plexiglas cracked, but it stopped him. Morbius landed in the street, five feet in front of him.

“Stay out of this, Spider-Man,” Morbius warned. “I don’t want to hurt you. You’ve done a lot of good for this city and you don’t deserve my wrath.”

“What about the people you left to rot in the sewers,” Spider-Man countered.

“They are robbers, child abusers, and rapists. They are not worthy of the blood I took from them.”

“Why are you doing this, Dr. Morbius?”

“Ah, so you know who I am,” he smiled sadly with his vampire fangs.. “Well, who I was, anyway. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Why have you stolen this equipment? To make yourself stronger?”

“Am I a Bond villain? Is this the part of the movie where I tell you all about my nefarious plans? I don’t think so, Spider-Man. The less you know, the less you can interfere with me.”

“There’s no telling what you can do with these things. If you’re not going to tell me what you’re planning on doing with them, I can only assume that it’s not good and I’m going to stop you.”

Morbius took one step forward and flew straight at Spider-Man. Shooting a web, he managed to pull himself out of the way as the vampire crashed into the bus stop, demolishing it. The vampire swung back around. Spider-Man shot a strand of web at Morbius, aiming to hit him in thee eyes and blind him. Using one of his forearms, Morbius blocked the webbing from hitting his face.

Spider-Man swung towards him, his feet leading. Even though Morbius blocked his planned attack, he hoped that it would distract him enough to get a powerful kick in. It wasn’t. As soon as he came within reach, Morbius grabbed Spider-Man’s ankle and threw him towards the ground. The strength behind the throw surprised him. He knew it shouldn’t, because he’d seen how Morbius threw that dumpster, but it still did.

Peter managed to latch onto a nearby building with a web and swung upwards at the last second to avoid colliding with the ground. Unfortunately, it put him right back in line with Morbius, who tackled him in midair. Spider-Man punched Morbius in the back a couple of times before the duo hit the concrete of the sidewalk. The breath blasted out of his lungs, Spider-Man gasped for a few seconds to recover his air. It was a task made more difficult by the weight of the vampire laying on top of him.

Before he could refill his lungs all the way, Morbius moved into a straddling position over him. The vampire drew his fist back and let loose a powerful punch that caught Peter in the cheek. Spider-Man raised his hand in an attempt to block the next blow, but Morbius’ fist went right through it. Another strike landed, this time from the other side. As his vision began to swim, he realized that he had never been hit this hard by just a punch before.

He braced as much as he could for another attack, but it never came. Instead, Morbius grabbed the back of Spider-Man’s mask and pulled his face close so they were almost touching noses. “I will let you go this one time, Spider-Man,” Morbius told him. “As I said, you have done good for this city. You don’t deserve my wrath. If you interfere with me again, however, I will not be so merciful. Next time, I will feast on your blood.”

Morbius pushed his head back, making it strike the sidewalk. A new wave of blurry vision hit him as the vampire stood up and flew off, leaving Spider-Man a mess on the ground.

Spider-Man Fan Fiction Part 4

“What exactly does your invention do, Dr. Connors,” Peter asked.

“All genetic material is made up of genetic markers. These markers control everything, from looks, to behavior, to basic body functions. We know almost nothing about these markers right now. My machine will change all of that. With it, we should be able to unlock  the secrets of genetic markers.

“Think of the possibilities, Peter! If my invention works, we’ll be able to see which markers cause genetic diseases and destroy them. We’ll be able to look inside a pregnant woman’s womb and detect any birth defects or genetic abnormalities before a baby is born and fix them. And that’s just in humans. What about the lizards? What if we were able to find the genetic markers that allowed lizards to regrow lost limbs? Maybe then we could put those markers in man so that they could do the same.”

Dr. Connors voice petered off towards the end as his gazed drifted down towards his missing arm. Wanting to snap the doctor’s attention back  to the conversation at hand, Peter continued. “You said that your invention might make him more dangerous. How?”

“Just like we may be able to do good with it, he might use it to make himself stronger or faster if he finds the right markers.”

“Is that what you think he’s doing? Trying to become more powerful?”

“If  it was the same Michael Morbius that I knew, I’d say no. But I’m not sure what he’s capable of now that he’s that….thing.”

Peter couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so he wished his professor a good night and left. There was something he needed to do and it was probably best to go ahead and get it done with. He cringed, knowing that this would be more unpleasant than being thrown around by Morbius.

“You were right next to him and didn’t get his picture,” J. Jonah Jameson exploded when Peter arrived at the Daily Bugle. “You can get all kinds of pictures of that Spider-Man freak, but you can’t get one of the man who stole a piece of scientific equipment in front of you?”

“Sorry, J.J.,” he replied sarcastically. “I was a little busy being picked up and thrown out of the room.”

“That’s no excuse. Now, you’re still a witness to the crime that nobody else has, so go to a desk out there and sit down. I’ll send someone over to interview you. Even you shouldn’t screw that up.”

Peter did as he was told and sat at an empty desk. He didn’t just wait for the reporter, though. One of the reasons he had come to the Daily Bugle was to go through its database for anything about Dr. Michael Morbius. Since Dr. Connors said that he  was a Nobel prize recipient, he knew that there would be at least one story about his supposed death. After a few minutes of searching, he found what he was looking for. Unfortunately for him, the article really didn’t tell him much more than his professor had . Still, he now knew where the building was located and he’d check it out once he was done with the reporter.

When he was finally free, a half hour wait on the reporter and another hour of repetitive questions later, he swung on his webs across town. No matter how many times he’d done it, gliding through the air at the end of a web was always exhilarating. The rush of the air, the view of the city from up high, it was all still magical to him.

His enjoyment of his travel was cut short two blocks away from his destination when he heard a man cry for help. He looked down in time to see a thuggish looking man being dragged into an open manhole by an overly white hand. The only time that Spider-Man had seen that color before was on Morbius. He swung down lower and dropped onto the pavement just as the manhole cover was put back into place. With a swift shot, he grabbed the cover with a web and yanked it out of its spot. He leapt into the air and fell through the opening easily.

The first thing that hit him when he landed gently was the smell. Sewers were supposed to be rancid, but this wasn’t the smell of waste. It was the smell of death. If it wasn’t for the fact that he knew a dangerous person was not far away, he might have stopped to throw up. Dozens of bodies were to the left and right of him as the sewer ran further up. The killer had taken the time to line the corpses against the walls so they wouldn’t block the flow. A sudden shifting sound made him look up ahead.

Twenty feet away, Morbius stood, holding the thuggish looking man in his arms. Judging from the limpness of the man’s body, Spider-Man assumed that he was already dead. The large volume of blood coming  from his neck supported that theory. Morbius wore a look of satisfaction as drops of blood dripped from his fangs.

That last thought made Spider-Man pause. Morbius had fangs. He drank blood. Spider-Man had come across a real life vampire.