After laying some of his cards on the table with Uncle Ben and Aunt May, Peter felt a lot lighter.
After an entire day of glorious sloth at home, he slung his backpack over his shoulder the next morning and boarded the school bus with Gwen.
While they stood shoulder-to-shoulder, being lovey-dovey as they waited, George sped past in his patrol car, lights blazing.
He was so focused he didn't even notice his daughter and Peter secretly holding hands.
"What's up with my father-in-law?" Peter couldn't help asking out of curiosity.
Gwen either didn't catch the title or pretended she hadn't—she simply thought for a moment and answered,
"I heard a major crime-boss in Hells Kitchen got himself killed. His sudden death has the whole neighborhood in chaos."
"Since last night every gang down there's been shooting it out, trying to grab the biggest slice of the dead man's empire."
"Between that and the police raid the night before, every jail cell in New York is stuffed."
"Right now the entire NYPD is working overtime, and it'll be at least ten days—maybe half a month—before things calm down."
She paused, then added in a complicated tone,
"Peter, because of this mess we probably can't tell Dad about us this weekend. We'll have to wait until he's off this crazy schedule."
Hearing that, Peter's expression turned a little odd.
So his spur-of-the-moment escapade yesterday had indirectly dumped all this on George?
Still… that might not be a bad thing.
If George was going to be buried in work for the next ten days or so,
wouldn't that line up perfectly with Tony's coming-out party?
Talk about perfect timing.
With Tony outing himself as a superhero first, George would have a primer; when he learned Peter and Gwen's secret identities later, he'd take it far better.
Thinking this, Peter edged closer to Gwen.
"That's great news—if your dad's tied up in Hells Kitchen, you can patrol at night without worrying about running into him."
"Also…"
He leaned to her sensitive ear and whispered,
"If your dad's working late every day, we could always—"
"N-no way, absolutely not!" Gwen cut him off, face scarlet, before he could finish his wolfish suggestion.
"Huh? Why can't I take you up to your rooftop for some combat training?" Peter put on an innocent look.
"Oh… just combat training?" Gwen blinked, then blushed crimson.
So Peter only wanted to help her train?
Damn it—she'd misunderstood him again!
She prayed Peter wouldn't notice; the last thing she wanted was to go from "Little Spider" to "Little Pervert-Spider."
But Peter moved even closer, eyes fixed on her.
"What did you think I wanted to do with you?"
"I-I thought you wanted to train my fighting, of course," she stammered.
"I only worried we might make too much noise and wake Grandma…"
Her voice dwindled to a mosquito-whine—because even that sounded like some kind of innuendo.
"In that case, how about the great outdoors? Forest Park, or maybe the roof of the Empire State Building?"
Listening to Peter seriously pick their "sparring spots," Gwen's imagination ran wild,
her face so red it looked ready to drip blood.
Damn it, she never should have opened that "secret site" Gloria the pervert sent yesterday.
"O-on second thought, the balcony's fine… we'll just… keep it down so Grandma won't hear."
Why did every option sound filthy?
Was she really some kind of "Little Pervert-Spider"?
…While Peter teased the flustered Ghost-Spider without mercy, atop Fisk Tower in Hells Kitchen,
Kingpin gazed down at the chaos below.
His faction had claimed the biggest prize—thanks to his earlier alliance with Mrs. Gao, he'd smoothly swallowed her lucrative enhancer plant.
Yet Kingpin couldn't feel happy.
Mrs. Gao was dead—silenced forever.
So… who was next?
The answer was obvious.
After a long silence he finally spoke.
"Have we figured out how the old woman died?"
Bullseye, prostrate at his feet, replied in a low voice,
"All we know is the victims were Mrs. Gao and a Japanese man.
Mrs. Gao's body was obliterated; the Japanese man had a hole punched clean through his chest and signs of electric burns."
"The scene was a mess—explosions, electricity, blades—too many elements for even the best forensics team to reconstruct."
The moment Bullseye finished, Kingpin stated with certainty,
"It was The Punisher."
"He took out Green Goblin, then got his hands on the flying skateboard. Two nights ago he killed Electro in public; the same night, at the hour of Electro's death, the Gao crime scene showed massive electrical damage."
"That monster seems able to steal other people's powers!"
"We can't sit and wait—if we don't deal with him now, who knows how strong he'll become?"
"If we don't kill him first, he'll show up at my door one day."
By now Kingpin's broad face was twisted; despite sub-ten-percent body-fat, even his facial muscles looked over-developed.
Even brilliant Professors turn hysterical when death stares them in the face,
let alone a crime-lord only recently gone "legit."
Kingpin spun around, eyes blazing with manic cruelty.
"Speed it up! I don't care if you kidnap or bribe—get those scientists here now!"
"And what about Obadiah? We need Stark Industries' weapon systems—yesterday!"