Spider-Man sat perched beside a gargoyle as the rain fell down on his body. He hung his head, trying to go through the recent events of his life. “So the financial aid office, they say it’s too late in the year to apply for a loan. Which means I’ll have to drop out of this semester and fail all my classes, then retake them again in the spring. And to make matters worse, I can’t even make any money off this web-slinging gig because my ‘good buddy’ Harry snatched that photography gig at the Bugle right out from under me! Oh, and Harry? He’s also dating the girl of my dreams.”

He turned his head to the gargoyle. “What do you think, Bruce? What should I do about the situation?”

The gargoyle said nothing, just remained in its fixed position. Spider-Man shook his head. “Don’t give me that look. I warned you that if you kept making that face, it’d get stuck.”

He hung his head once more. “So here I am, sitting out here in the rain bearing my soul to a slab of granite.” He looked at the gargoyle. “Well I’m sorry you’re offended by that remark, but maybe if you contributed a little more to the conversation, I wouldn’t have a reason to talk about you like that.”

Spider-Man created a cover over his head to keep the rain out. “Now my costume is soaked. This was a brilliant idea, Parker. And how am I gonna tell Aunt May I may have to drop out of school? Not like I can ask her for the money. I gotta find—”

Something across the street caught his eye. Inside one of the office buildings, he could see a light moving around inside. “Now maybe it’s just me, but most people burning the midnight oil at the office don’t walk around with a flashlight.”

He patted the gargoyle on the head. “Sorry Bruce, time to go to work. Oh don’t start, you know I’d spend more time with you if I could!”

He crouched and sprung up, soaring across the street before firing a webline and swinging towards the office building. Spider-Man landed on the edge where the window was open and he climbed inside.

“Heeeeeere thiefy, thiefy, thiefy…”

He looked around the office but could find no sight of the flashlight he had seen only moments ago. “Great, don’t tell me they already left. I was looking forward to punching some—”

As Spider-Man turned around, his spider sense went off and he instinctively ducked as a leg flew over his head. “Whoa!”

Spider-Man flipped back, his feet hitting his new opponent. When he landed on his feet once more, he lunged forward with a punch. The thief was quick, however, easily moving to the side and then lunging forward. Spider-Man’s spider sense went off, but he couldn’t get away fast enough and claws raked across his abdomen.

“Ow!”

His enemy ran for the window and jumped out. Spider-Man ran after the foe, watching as they swung from a cable to another building. He followed, giving chase. On the rooftop, the burglar stood upright as Spider-Man landed behind them.

“Okay now, how about you just give back what you stole and we’ll call it a—”

The burglar turned and pulled off the facemask. A mane of white hair flowed out and when she turned to face him, Spider-Man saw that the cat-burglar wore a black mask with orange lenses over her face and the rest of her leather jumpsuit perfectly accentuated her curves.

“—a babe! I mean a day! We’ll call it a day!”

She offered him a flirtatious smile. “Took you long enough to find me.”

“Huh?”

“I’ve robbed that building three times this week and this is the first time you’ve come around.” She stepped closer, her body mere inches from his now. “I’m the Black Cat. I’m your biggest fan.”

Spider-Man found his eyes drifting over the Black Cat’s body. “…wow…that’s…umm…that’s new. You’ve gotta forgive me, up until now, my biggest fan has been an irritating jock.”

She ran her hand over the back of his masked head, pressing her body close to him.

“Hey, wait a second!” said Spider-Man, pushing her away. “If you’re my biggest fan, why did you just attack me!” He pointed to the claw marks on his abdomen. “And look at this!”

“Just a scratch,” she said with a shrug.

“Not just that, but you tore through the costume! You know how much these things cost?”

The Black Cat reached into one of the pouches around her waist and pulled out a wad of bills. “I’ve got it covered, Spider.”

“…is that all hundreds?” he asked. He shook his head. “Wait, you’re a crook!”

“I prefer to think of myself as a freelance acquirer of goods,” said the Black Cat.

“You steal!”

“What are you, twelve?” asked the Black Cat. She pulled him closer and lightly kissed his lips through the mask. “Lighten up, Spider. Sometimes, it’s good to be bad.”

“This is so not cool. In fact, this is so far from being cool it’s ho—no! Not hot! This is not hot! This is something that is definitely not cool and definitely, definitely not hot!”

She smiled at him. “I don’t think all of you feels that way.”

Spider-Man’s eyes bulged under his mask. “…you’ve gotta be kidding me…”

The Black Cat backed away from him, moving towards the edge of the rooftop. “Been great getting to know you, Spider. Hope we can do it again some time.”

“Hey, wait!”

Spider-Man ran after her as she jumped off the edge. But once he looked over, there was no sign of her. He sighed and shook his head.

“Okay Parker…time to go home and take a cold shower…” He jumped from the roof and swung back towards campus. “I think I liked it better when these nutjobs were just trying to kill me.”

SANDSTORM

Part I

By Dino Pollard

William Baker sat in the uncomfortable hospital room chair, his head tilted to the side as he slept. The only sound other than his light snoring came from the beeps of the heart monitor hooked up to the frail old woman who lay in the bed, also sleeping.

A man dressed in blue scrubs and a white lab coat entered the room and lightly shook Baker awake. He stirred and opened his eyes, sitting up when he saw the doctor standing over him.

“Hey Doc, sorry…guess I just dozed.”

“It’s fine, Mr. Baker,” said the doctor. He looked down at the chart and sighed. “Look…Mr. Baker, there’s no easy way to say this…”

“What?” asked Will, sitting upright. “No easy way to say what?”

“Your mother’s procedure…her insurance won’t cover it,” said the doctor.

Will looked at his mother then back at the doctor. “But…if she don’t get the procedure…she won’t make it, will she?”

The doctor shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Unfortunately there’s nothing I can do. I’ve managed to fudge the paperwork as long as I can, but I can’t do it anymore, not for a procedure like this. The best we can do for your mother is keep her stable and make her as comfortable as possible.”

Will shook his head. “No…no you can’t do this to her! She’s…she’s not…it ain’t her time, Doc!” He stood up and grabbed the doctor’s shoulders. “It ain’t her time! You can’t…”

The doctor seemed to be at a loss for words. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to get some sound out, but it seemed almost impossible. Finally, all he could say was, “I’m terribly sorry. I wish there was more I could do.”

Will turned away from the doctor, burying his face in his palm. “Doc…she’s all I got. She’s the only one who believed in me, even after…after everything I did in the past.”

“We’ll do what we can for her and I’ll continue to see if there are any other solutions,” said the doctor. He lowered his head before leaving the room. “Once again, I’m very sorry.”

Will pulled the chair right up to his mother’s bedside. He took her limp hand in his own and began rubbing it. “I’m sorry, Mom. For all the times I stole from you, for all the times you musta been ashamed of me. But I tried, I tried to change for you. Got a straight job. Quit stealin’. An’ now, they’re tellin’ me that a working stiff can’t help his sick mother?”

He sighed.

“What good’s goin’ legit if this is the cost?”

He patted her hand as he stood up. “Don’t you worry, Ma. I’ll get the money, an’ you’ll be better. An’ I’ll be sure not to drag your name through the mud when I do it this time. Willie Baker, he ain’t no crook, not no more.”

Willie grabbed his jacket from the chair and pulled it over the green and black striped shirt he wore. “But Flint Marko, that’s a different story.”

The two champagne glasses clinked together and then Harry Osborn and Gwen Stacy leaned across the table to kiss. They both sat in an upscale Manhattan restaurant overlooking the city to celebrate Harry’s recent good fortune.

“I should be mad at you,” she said. “Running around, taking dangerous photos like that, risking your life.”

“But then you got turned on once you realized how much of a bad-ass I really am, right?” asked Harry with a smile.

Gwen tried to hide her smile. “Something like that. And it’s nice to come to a place like this on your dime instead of your father’s for once.”

Harry set his glass down on the table. “Don’t start, Gwen. Not tonight.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just don’t like the way you’re always at his beck and call.”

“Look, I know my dad can be a bit…cold.”

“Like ice.”

Harry paused, letting Gwen’s words roll off him. “But he’s always provided for me, okay? That car I drive around? That’s because of him. My tuition, my frat dues? Because of him. And he raised me the way he did because he wants me to follow in his footsteps, to take over Oscorp some day.”

“But that’s not what you want to do, Harry,” said Gwen. “You’re a business major but you’re always complaining about it. What is it you really want to do with your life?”

“I just want to be happy, that’s all,” said Harry.

“Then do what makes you happy, not what makes your father happy.”

Harry looked down at his plate, absently moving his food around with his fork. “That’s the problem, I’m not sure what that is anymore.”

Gwen pulled back and looked down herself, resting her arms on the table. “You’re definitely a charmer, Mr. Osborn.”

Harry looked up with a sigh. “Gwen…c’mon, you know that’s not what I meant. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, okay? Without you, I don’t know what I’d do.” He reached across the table and took her hand in his. “I mean for starters, I wouldn’t have been able to pass English.”

Gwen pulled her hand away. “That’s not as charming as you might think.”

The sound of a ringing phone broke the awkward silence. Gwen fixed her gaze on Harry. “You left your cell on?”

“I’m sorry…”

“Harry…”

He took the phone out of his pocket and looked at the caller ID. Gwen rolled her eyes. “Do I even have to ask…?”

“It’s my dad.”

“So don’t answer it.”

“What if it’s important?”

“It’s never important, he probably just needs you to run some errand because the butler’s on vacation.”

“Gwen…”

“You answer it, and I’m getting a cab back to campus.”

Harry stood and stepped away from the table as he answered the phone. “Hi Dad.”

Gwen let out a gasp of exasperation and stood from the table, taking her purse and leaving the restaurant. Harry watched her leave as he tried to listen to his father’s voice on the other end of the line.

“What? No, no I’m not busy,” he said and then, in a low mumble, added, “not anymore.”

“So what is this place?” asked Marko.

“Some sort of research facility,” said his partner, a big Irish guy named Alex O’Hrn. Flint Marko, or Willie Baker, had never worked with him before. But he was friends of a friend and for Flint, that was good enough. “Owned by some outfit called the Brand Corporation.”

“An’ how we gettin’ inside? What we stealing?”

“I got a buddy who works night security. He’s given us a window by tellin’ me when shift change is and where it’s at its weakest.”

O’Hrn motioned for Marko to follow him. Together, the pair were able to sneak past the front gate and into the main yard, making a run for the side of the building. Once they came to a stop, O’Hrn looked at his partner. “Actually, we ain’t stealin’ shit. We just gotta trash some of their computers, set back their research or something.”

“That’s not what I signed up for,” said Flint.

“Look Marko, I brought you in on this ’cause Bagley vouched for you. I didn’t have to and if I knew you were gonna pussy out at the minute, I wouldn’t have bothered with your ass.”

“Hey!” Marko grabbed O’Hrn’s shoulder, staring down the larger man. “Flint Marko ain’t pussy, you got it? I didn’t say I was backin’ out, now did I? You say that’s the way it’s gotta be, then that’s what I’ll do.”

O’Hrn nodded. The two men circled around the back where large bay doors were. One of them opened up and two men dressed in guard uniforms pushed out a large cart on wheels. After they had passed them, O’Hrn and Flint jumped them, quickly incapacitating the two.

“Goddamn rent-a-cops, man,” said O’Hrn. “Think these rich bastards would learn they gotta go with some hardcore Blackwater types if they really wanna keep people out.”

“Whatever, let’s just do this fast,” said Flint.

“You feelin’ antsy, Marko?”

“Shaddup,” said Flint. He took point, moving inside the facility. O’Hrn came up behind him.

“Basically, just look for computers and start bashin’ ’em.”

Flint nodded and went left as O’Hrn went to the right. As Flint went through the facility, he came to a room that had EXPERIMENTAL stamped on the door. He reached his hand for the light switch but all he found was a large lever. Pulling down on it, the room lit up and revealed a series of computer terminals, all of which began starting up. But what Flint saw that was even more interesting was the glass door and windows that overlooked a bank of sand.

He went through the glass door and stepped onto the sand, trying to figure out what it was for. That’s when he heard a hum coming from above. Marko looked up and saw some sort of three-armed object, almost like a strange chandelier, hanging above him and slowly, it began to rotate.

Beams of energy shot forth each of the arms and struck the sand Marko stood on. He fell to his feet, suddenly losing his footing and the arms spun faster and faster and Marko screamed. His skin felt like it was on fire and it felt as if the particles of sand were burrowing inside his skin, saturating his bones. Eventually, he lost consciousness and his entire body seemed to melt, lost in the bank of sand.