Spider-Man/Muppets Fanfic: The Spectacular

[muppetwriter]

You know... By the strength of that punch, you'd think I said "Socket to me?"
*Old Laugh-In reference.

Haha! Sorry I had to give it to ya, Count. In reality, I could never punch another human being that hard nor ever bring myself to do it. Unless I'm fueled with some sort of superhuman aggression.

I'll try to have some more up soon.

 

[The Count]

Hey Sean... Hope this isn't too late... Don't forget that on 9/1/2007, there'll be an encore airing of Secrets of the Omnitrix on Cartoon Network at 10:00 AM EDT. But they're billing this as a special "Alternate Alien" version, with a brand-new never-before-seen alien hero.
Hope this helps and hope to read your review of it, since I'll miss it due to being stuck in classes during Saturday mornings. Ick!

 

[muppetwriter]

Yeah, I caught it this morning. That new alien looked sick (but in a good way). Hope to see more of him during the next season of the show. He had eyes all over his body and none on his head (two huge nostrils were in their place), so Ben nicknamed him "Eyeguy" (marvelous name).

 

[JEANYLASER]

i love this story!

 

[The Count]

Oh... So it was an alien hero version of the hundred-eyed Greek mythic monster known as Argus?
mmm, interesting, since I have plans to bring in that monster as one of my castle's haunters... But more on that should I reach his mark.

 

[muppetwriter]

Argus, eh? Interesting. Didn't know they were following mythical beings in Greek history as inspirations for the alien heroes in the series. Pretty cool.

 

[muppetwriter]

Chapter Fifteen​

Rachel Bitterman’s most prized possession, her Verizon cell phone, smashed against the wall of the lit fireplace in the great room, its shattered contents falling into the fire and turning to ash in seconds. On the other line was Professor Krassman, returning back to the testing facility to do further research on their “newest weapon,” and he informed Rachel of all that had happened during the raid in Connors’s office. What stuck out more in Krassman’s story than the murder of Curt Connors, the interference of Sean Thomas (who he believed might’ve been a student at the university), and Nicky Holiday’s arrival was the fact that a mysterious girl had come there wearing the same suit that she was supposed to have gotten days ago for her master plan of getting revenge on both Peter Parker and the Muppets, but instead got a Muppet-sized golden tuxedo.

She knew instantly how that “mysterious girl” was. The golden tuxedo…the girl in a provocative catsuit just happened to be at the university when Connors was murdered…it all made sense! The reason her suit didn’t get to her was because of the daughter of the same diner owner who she had been threatening with foreclosure for some time now! It was Jenny!

It must be a plot…some plot they’re forming to get back at me, Rachel thoughts were plagued by paranoia. She should’ve realized days ago that her suit had been stolen on purpose. And now, because of her carelessness, it was in the hands of a typical diner waitress. The most powerful weapon designed by the craziest scientist in the world was being kept in a grungy, pest-infected diner. It was enough to make her vomit.

But it wasn’t the time to get sick…it wasn’t the time to feel sorry for past mistakes…it was time to take an alternate route. That route involved using the last line of defense that she could’ve used when all else failed: the Goblin Chamber, the machine that transformed both Harry and Norman into their sinister alter egos. Perhaps it was her time to get a taste of that delicious medicine. After all…she was an Osborn, wasn’t she?

She couldn’t wait for Krassman to finish with his tests on Connors’s serum. That could take weeks…years! She was too inflicted with rage to wait that long. It needed to be done now!

Rachel was about to head over to the portrait of Norman Osborn and used the secret compartment to open the entrance to the secret lair. But she was quickly interrupted by the sound of her nephew’s voice, as he called out to her. “Aunt Rachel! Aunt Rachel, come here!” There was such urgency in his voice that she couldn’t help but to believe that he might’ve been in trouble. Not that she was concerned as a loving aunt. Harry was too valuable for her to lose, if she failed in stopping their adversaries. Yes, he was suffering from amnesia and had no clue about his Goblin origins…but what if he remembered? She couldn’t risk that divine chance on even the slightest accident, like stumping a toe or choking on some water.

No! She needed to see what was up right away. And she quickly found herself moving with marvelous haste out of the great room and into the hallway, finding Harry standing there with a ridiculous grin on his face. He wasn’t hurt or injured by some stupid accident. He was fine…and Rachel felt like a complete idiot for stopping her plans over nothing. Well, she might as well hear what the urgency was all about. “What is it?”

“You remember that girl I told you who came to see me the night I was recovering from the hospital?” Harry asked, and Rachel only slightly had a clue what he was talking about. “The one who acted in the show that’s being performed right now on Broadway.”

That’s when it struck her like a bolt of lightning. “Mary Jane Watson?”

Harry nodded. “That’s the one.”

“Call her back.” Rachel hastily said. “Tell her that you have other plans.”

“What?”

“You heard me! Now get it done!”

Harry just stared at her in utter disbelief. She only met this woman recently and found out that she was the aunt that he and his father never knew. And she was already barking orders at him…taking control of his life…just like his father always had. He wasn’t going to let such a history repeated itself with such a demanding woman. “No, Aunt Rachel.” She glared at him in surprise, not expecting him to actually talk back. “This girl has always been a friend of mine, and she sounded like she needed someone to talk to over the phone.”

“Then talk to her over the phone!” Rachel snapped. “Just don’t bring her here into the penthouse!”

Harry’s suspicions quickly began to take over. “Why are you so wary of her? You don’t even know her!”

Rachel nearly chuckled, but she composed her long enough to act sincere towards Harry in order to convince him that Watson was bad news. She let out a fake saddened sigh and then said, “Your poor memory can’t recall this, but mine’s certainly can.” The tone in her voice gave off a mock kindness that Harry was unable to detect, while her face was showing off false pity. “Harry…that girl doesn’t care about you. She loves Peter Parker…not you.”

“I know that, Aunt Rachel. My memory isn’t that bad.”

She knew that she was losing him quick, as he looked as if he was going to walk off to get ready for Mary Jane’s visit. So, with much hastiness in her voice, she hurriedly said, “She loves him because she knows his secret!”

Harry was still walking away from her, moving quickly down the hall. “Oh, yeah? What secret would that be? That he was a member of the chess club?” Harry chuckled. “Sorry to disappoint you, Aunt Rachel. But everybody knows that one.”

“That he’s really Spider-Man!”

Harry’s pace was starting to slow down a little, but he was still walking away from Rachel. “I’m not buying it, Aunt Rachel.”

“And he killed your father!”

At that point, Harry stopped dead in his tracks. He turned and faced his aunt again, with a look on his face that was registering a mixture of horror and perplexity. “You…You’re…You’re joking…right?” Rachel said nothing and didn’t make one single gesture. “Don’t lie to me, Aunt Rachel! I understand you’re trying to be overprotective of me…but don’t lie!” She remained where she was, near the doorway to the great room, as if she wanted to show him something. He began to advance towards her, which made her quiver a bit, believing that he was going to try and kill her. It might’ve been her paranoia again making her believe that, but with the Goblin formula still running through Harry’s system, it was a strong possibility.

“Harry…” Rachel quietly uttered.

“DON’T LIE TO ME!”

Not consciously aware of what exactly he was doing, Harry lunged at Rachel, grabbing her by the collar and slamming her against the doorframe. For some time now, she had been worried about Harry’s life. But at that moment, she was cautious of her own. “Harry, listen to me!”

“I’m done listening!” Harry screamed. “Just because my father is dead doesn’t mean you can run my life just like he did!”

“I’m just trying to show you the facts!” She retorted, and then looked and pointed into the great room. Harry didn’t want to buy into her lies. He wasn’t even certain if she really was his aunt. She might’ve been someone who was just trying to steal the family’s fortune and possibly willing to commit an act of murder against him in order to get it.

Harry knew that calling the police seemed like the wisest choice. But something in him forced his gaze on Rachel to move away from her and focus on the object that she was pointing at inside the great room. Harry found himself glancing toward the chaise lounge in the corner of the room.

Norman Osborn was lying on it.

Harry gasped, letting go of Rachel, who was extremely grateful that her plan had worked. Whatever Harry was seeing was snapping some sense into him. In her eyes, nothing was there.

In Harry’s eyes, his father was there on the chaise, and he was clearly dead, a vicious wound evident on his chest through the huge red splotch discoloring his shirt. And Spider-Man was there, laying him out, nearly arranging the corpse…

Harry staggered back, holding his head. He slammed shut his eyes, and when he dared to open them again, the chaise was vacant. Terrified that some other vision would reoccupy it, he turned away and found himself staring at the large mirror hanging on the wall.

Something was drawing him to it. Something that was there but not there, something that he felt he should know, but didn’t.

“You’ve taken your eye off the ball.”

The voice, soft and disturbing, was spoken from just behind his ear. His first thought was that it might’ve been Rachel, toying with him again…making him believe things that he didn’t want to believe. He wasn’t sure how she was doing it, but she did it well enough to make it all seem so real. And yet it was frighteningly real…especially the fact that the voice spoken behind his ear wasn’t that of Rachel’s…it was his father’s voice.

A disoriented Harry stumbled forward toward the mirror. Unable to stop himself, he fell against it, putting his hands against the glass at the last second.

A circuit connected…a dizzying array of images flashed through Harry’s mind. He cried out, remembering, not wanting to, needing the information, fearing it, and there was Spider-Man lying bound and helpless, his unmasked face gazing up plaintively at Harry. And it was Peter’s face, and his father’s body, and Harry standing in a large capsule, wallowing in green gas, and in combat with Peter, hurtling through dizzying heights, trying to kill him, and being slammed backward off his Sky Stick, and Peter looking down at him with all manner of mock sympathy. And Harry heard his own voice asking, “My dad. He died, didn’t he?” and Peter just nodding sympathetically…he knew…he knew…he had done it, he—

Rachel watched with interest as Harry sank to his knees, sobbing…except the sobs were intermingled with choked laughter. And once again his father’s voice came to him: “Where’ve you been?” With tremendous effort, Harry raised his head and saw Norman Osborn, likewise on his knees, staring back at him from the mirror.

“Remember me?” his father purred.

“Yes, Father,” Harry said with the voice of the d**ned. “I remember everything.”

From Rachel’s perspective, Harry was pretty much talking to himself while gazing at his own reflection in the mirror with a mesmerized look on his face. But she knew that Norman Osborn must’ve been contacting him through the deep recesses of his subconscious. If it took such unstableness to get him to remember the plans they made before he became an amnesiac, then so be it.

“Listen to your aunt, Harry.” Norman told him. “She knows what she’s talking about. She can help you avenge my death…kill Peter Parker…and everyone else who was in on it all.”

As if he was under a great trance, Harry nodded in approval to his father’s wishes. He then turned his gaze away from the mirror and towards the phone in his hand, which he had been carrying ever since Mary Jane called the penthouse. And then, without hesitation, he pressed the “redial” button and placed the receiving end near his right ear. He heard it ring a few times, and then Mary Jane’s voice came over the phone.

“Harry? Is there something wrong?”

“I’m sorry, Mary Jane.” He said in a monotone voice. “Something’s come up. I can’t see you tonight.”

He could hear Mary Jane sighing deeply over the phone. It made him feel slightly upset to hear her so disgruntled, because he had been looking forward to seeing her again, without Peter by her side. But he knew that she still loved him, and he couldn’t have her unless he was out of the picture. Though with his aunt and his father at his side, that would soon be easily rectified.

“I understand, Harry.” Mary Jane brought herself to say. “I’m sorry we couldn’t…I mean…I don’t know what I mean. I’m just sorry.”

“No, M.J.” Harry uttered. “I’m sorry.”

And with that being his last words for the conversation, Harry hung up the phone. He then looked towards Rachel, who had a huge wicked smile on her face. Now was the time to continue their original plan…only this time they would have more people to back them up…and this time she would bring herself in on the action. All she needed to get herself prepared was one moment in the secret lair…and she got exactly that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~​

While Jenny was getting herself prepared for the dinner that she and Ronnie were planning to have at one of the most exquisite restaurants in Manhattan, she could hardly believe the news that came over the television, which she had it set on Channel Six, about the death of her biology teacher, Curt Connors. As she watched April O’Neil give the full report on television, she couldn’t help but to think about the peculiar dream that she had earlier that day, in which she was actually at the scene of the crime. She could recall doing a number of marvelous things in her dream, such as fighting a tall, mechanical scorpion-like monster and pulling Sean Thomas out of the burning science building.

It all had seemed remarkably real to her. She wondered just how exhausted she must’ve been the previous evening to have such a surreal dream. But she must’ve been extremely exhausted to fall asleep in the catsuit that she tried on in the middle of the engagement party that she, her family, and her friends last night.

However, the weirdest part of the experience was how strangely similar it was to what Jenny was watching on the news that moment. How could she have dreamt of something that happened only seconds after she woke up? It didn’t make much sense. And Jenny, for a moment, jokingly believed that she might’ve become a psychic. Though she knew in her conscience that she shouldn’t have taken the situation so lightheartedly. Her greatest teacher had been killed and that was something that would be sticking with her for days to come.

“Jenny!” Her father called from the kitchen. “Your dashing prince awaits!”

She rolled her eyes at the way he referred to Ronnie, as she cut off the television set in her room and strolled out in her lovely blue gown, which Ronnie had graciously purchased for her weeks ago. Even as she made her way into the kitchen area, Pete and the patient Ronnie were astounded at the way she looked in it. Ronnie’s eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head, and his glasses had almost fogged up, as he gazed upon his date for the evening.

“Wow, Jen.” He said, while fiddling nervously with the bouquet of roses that he held in his hand. “You look…marvelous.”

Jenny blushed over the comment that he had given her. She was grateful to be wearing such a divine, appeasing outfit like that gown rather than the provocative garbage that she tried on last night. “Thank you, Ronnie.” She quickly took notice of the spotless tuxedo that he was currently wearing. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” She immediately cringed after she said that. It didn’t quite sound as delightful as the comment he made. But at least he was grateful for it.

“Thanks.” He remarked.

“The boy cleans up for himself very well. Just like a real gentleman should.” Pete stated, right before he glanced at his wristwatch. “You two better get a move on, if you want to catch a table. These fancy restaurants…is nothing like my diner. Over here, ya gotta catch one before it escapes.”

Jenny somewhat wished her father would make a point to what he said, so he wouldn’t continue rambling on like always did. She and Ronnie felt like they were standing there for hours waiting on him to get to the point. But when that seemed impossible, Jenny had just done what she always did best in these situations and interrupt him with a kiss on the cheek. “We gotta go, Pop. But thanks for the words of wisdom.” She tried not to laugh as she said that, while she and Ronnie were heading out of the kitchen.

“You two have fun.” Pete said, as he followed them into the waiting area. He could see the limousine that Ronnie arrived in parked at the front of the diner and was just as impressed seeing it there as he was the moment Ronnie arrived. “I take care of everything here by myself tonight. No rats, no frogs, no pigs, not even any penguins. Give everybody night off to enjoy themselves. Slow business night anyways.”

Jenny looked back and smiled at her father. “You’re one in a million, Pop.”

“Of course he is.” Ronnie said. “That’s why he’s gonna be the best man for our wedding. Right, Pete?”

“Got that right.” Pete remarked, and he heartily laughed, waving goodbye to his daughter and future son-in-law as they exited the diner. He watched them get into the limousine happily, with thoughts of a grand future for his daughter running through his mind. Pete could not have been more happy for her. He had always hoped from the moment that he came to America that his one and only daughter would have a better life than he did in Greece. It pleased him very much to know that dream would soon be coming true, as soon as she and Ronnie say “I do” to each other.

Once the soon-to-be newlyweds had departed from the diner, Pete clapped his hands together and rubbed them with satisfaction. He couldn’t remember the last time he had the place all to himself. With no employees and no customers so close to closing time, now seemed like the perfect time for him to step into the kitchen and fix one of the finest Greek meals that he had been hoping to make for the longest time for himself, Keftes. Just the name of the cuisine made his mouth water, and he couldn’t wait to step into the kitchen to get to work on it.

However, before Pete could make his way into the kitchen, the familiar sound of the bell dangling above the entrance to the diner rang, much to his displeasure. Stopping halfway near the kitchen entrance, Pete turned and faced his customer with a look of disappointment registering on his face. “May I help you on this joyous evening?” The tone in his voice was nothing but sarcastic. But his disappointment was soon replaced with surprise, as he realized that his customer was Quentin Fitzwaller. “Quincy?” He gazed at the horrible state the former security guard was in.

Quentin looked like a total bum. He had been wearing the same business suit given to him by Rachel Bitterman for days now, developing a rather foul bodily odor to it and a several stains that had turned its color from black and white to brown and yellow. His hair was out of place, his eyes were bloodshot, and a five o’clock shadow had formed on his face. The tie of his suit was unbound, part of his shirt was hanging out from his pants, and he was even missing one shoe.

Only a few moments before he arrived at Pete’s Diner, he bought himself what seemed like his fifteenth bottle of scotch from the nearest liquor store, indulging himself to it as he stepped inside. After one swig and a loud, horrendous burp, he said with a grungy voice, “Gimme your money, old man.”

Pete could barely hear what his said, because his voice sounded so groggy to him. “What?”

What Quentin did next had completely horrified him. He suddenly pulled a revolver out from his back pocket and aimed it directly at Pete. “I said gimme the freakin’ money or I’ll blow your freakin’ head off, old man!”

Pete’s hands instinctively went up as soon as he saw the revolver pointed at him. He had been held up numerous times in the city of Manhattan, and he has luckily survived each encounter he had with a common robber. So he was pretty much used to being held up before Quentin surprisingly made his move there and then. Fitzwaller had always been Pete’s favorite customer and a very good friend to Jenny and the Muppets. To see him committing such an act at that moment was appalling. If Jenny and the Muppets were there to see what he was doing, it would break all of their hearts deeply.

“Quincy, what is this?” Pete remarked. “This is not you. Someone has put you up to this, haven’t they?”

Someone had, indeed…and her name was Rachel Bitterman. Ever since she entered his life, things hadn’t been quite the same for him. He had felt like he was living a double life: part of him was a law-abiding human being and the other was a law-breaking one (helping Rachel do the most horrible things that have contradicted his career as a security guard). And the moment she decided to break up with him, his whole world came crashing down. Desperation had quickly begun to take over. Even though she had done lawless things, he loved that woman to death. She was so beautiful and yet so dangerous. But no other woman would want such a geek like him.

If this is what it takes to win her back, so be it, he thought as he kept aiming that revolver at Pete.

“I’m sorry, Pete.” He muttered. “This is the only way.”

Pete shook his head negatively. “No, Quincy. No! There is always choices in life. Is what keeps things in order.” Even Pete had known himself how much he rambled on about things and yet had no point to them, but it was crucial at this moment that he did…his life depended on it. “Quincy, whoever’s put you up to this does not know the type of man you are. Only you know who you are and can decide where your path in life lays…no one else. You’re a good person. Jenny has always known it…I have always known it…the Muppets have know it since they met you in Disney World.”

Hearing what the diner owner was telling him, Quentin closed his eyes for a moment and thought about how he looked holding that revolver at an innocent human being. It terrified him. He wasn’t a violent man. Even while he served as a security guard, he had never performed any violent actions to apprehend criminals, like pull a gun on them or beat them to the ground. He was raised on living clean and finding a peaceful way of abiding the law.

The revolver in Quentin’s hands lowered, and the tension that had come over Pete had gone away. It wasn’t long before it and the bottle of scotch fell to the floor with a loud clang and crash. He then slumped down in the chair nearest to him and put his head in his hands. “I’m sorry, Rachel. I’m so sorry.”

“Rachel?” Pete uttered in realization. “She put you up to this.” He walked over to him, stepping into the puddle of alcohol that had formed around the table that Quentin was sitting at and placing a hand on his shoulder. “That woman will realize one day that she can’t threaten anyone into giving her what she wants. Like Jenny and me, for example. For years now, she has threatened us with foreclosure on this diner. But it’ll all end soon, because we have friends who’re helping us get through our dilemma. Friends who respect the type of person you have been for years.” His words were soothing for Quentin to hear, and he quickly forgot what he had just done. Realizing that he had just saved two lives that evening, Pete’s joyful attitude had returned. “C’mon. Let me make you a fine Greek meal that I’ve been waiting…”

CRASH!

The front display window shattered under the weight of a heavy, round, metallic object that had smashed through it all of the sudden. Pete and Quentin looked in the direction of where it had crashed, seeing a mechanical device that resembled a pumpkin roll across the floor, making a loud, rapid beeping sound. On this metal pumpkin was the word “Payback” written in big, bold, black letters.

Seeing that pumpkin brought a horrified look on Quentin’s face, as he realized what exactly it was. He immediately jumped from the table, knocking his chair over in the process, and ran to Pete, who just stood where he was mesmerized by the irritating noise and the frightening appearance that the pumpkin gave off. And before Quentin even had the chance to push himself and Pete into the kitchen area…

BOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMM!

The waiting area, the kitchen, and every other section of the diner were instantly engulfed in flames…and Quentin and Pete along with them. The bomb had unleashed a powerful shockwave that made every wall and ceiling crumble to pieces. The entire structure of the diner collapsed within moments, until nothing more was left of it than a massive pile of fiery ash.

People that were within blocks from the diner when it exploded had quickly piled out of their homes to see the horrifying remains of it. Most of them had gone there at least once in a while in their past, while some had passed through there every day for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And for them all to see what had become of it was terrifying. But it was not as terrifying as the wicked cackling from a dark, ominous figure that was rocketing high in the sky, which none of the bystanders had noticed. If it were not for the sounds of the approaching ambulances and fire trucks, they would have certainly heard it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

Mary Jane stumbled into her apartment later that night. Shell-shocked, listless, at her wit’s end as to which way to turn, she noticed that her answering machine was blinking. She reached over and pushed the button.

“Hi, M.J. It’s Peter,” came his voice. Tears started to roll down her face. She had never been so happy to hear it before. “Listen, I just want to talk to you about us. I know I’ve—”

The message suddenly stopped. Huh? Peering more closely at the answering machine…

The phone line was no longer jacked into the wall. It must have come out during Peter’s call, cutting off the message. But why would that be?

The only possible answer: someone had broken into her apartment to pull the jack out…and might well still be there. She turned to leave and let out an alarmed shriek.

The Goblin was standing right behind her.

At least it looked like the Goblin, although his costume and mask were different…the top of his head, hair and everything, was exposed and…

Harry? But how…?

He clapped a hand over her mouth. Her eyes widened in horror, and he spoke in a low, soothing voice that was terrifying just because it sounded so friendly. “Since you love him,” he told her with an easy familiarity that almost made her ill, “I think you should call him back…and do just as I say…or Peter Parker will die.”

END OF CHAPTER FIFTEEN​

 

[The Count]

Woo-hoo! Return of the Goblin! Oh thank you Sean, just hope mor gets posted soon.
Sorry to be so short, gotta dash off for a lunche we're having at home for my sister with all our family here.

But I do so hope more updates get posted so we can marvel at the grandness and richness that is this story.

 

[JEANYLASER]

yeah me too!

 

[muppetwriter]

Thanks.

In case anyone hasn't been keeping up with the "five main deaths" (it was originally four, but I recently changed it to five) so far in the story, here's the list....

1) Curt Connors
2) Pete
3) Quentin Fitzwaller
4) ?
5) ?

I'll have more up as soon as I can.