Post by Drake on Feb 16, 2015 16:43:07 GMT -5
#7: Rise of the Sinister Six Finale
All-New, All-Different
By Drake
Yellow tape enclosed the entrance to OsCorp’s headquarters as at least fifty people rushed back and forth, either checking in with their superiors or helping to clean up the mess around them. Rubble and the remains of a high-tech hologram projector littered the room. Civilians and reporters tried to peek in, only to find SHIELD agents blocking their path. It was a disappointing sight to Blackie Drago, to say the least.
Day one on the job and he was already hesitant enough. Then to come in and find…this. For a multibillion-dollar corporation, OsCorp sure knew how to screw up. Otto had said there’d been an accident, a presentation gone wrong. Even worse, they had another press conference scheduled for that very day; something Otto said would change the world. Good luck getting it cleaned up before then.
Despite all the ruckus, Blackie had to admit that not all the sights were bad. One in particular was definitely something special.
“What exactly happened here?” Blackie stepped up next to the beautiful blonde, managing to finally pull away from his brother-in-law after a coworker had stopped him.
Gwen Stacy didn’t even look up from her clipboard to answer, “A presentation went wrong.” Same answer Otto had given him. Okay. Something was definitely up.
“Anything I can do to help?” Blackie asked.
Gwen paused to look him over. He briefly got his hopes up that she was checking him out, but it just wasn’t possible. The way she looked at him…it was like she was testing him.
“Button up and slacks imply you aren’t Damage Control, so no,” Gwen looked back down at her clipboard and then up at the room.
Blackie wasn’t going to give up that easily. He held out his hand and smiled, “Blackie Drago.”
Gwen didn’t take it, “Gwen Stacy.”
“Not much of a talker, are you?”
“Not with guys I know just want to get in my pants and leave me out on the street like trash,” Gwen retorted.
“Oh really? That’s what you think I was going for?” Blackie said.
“Absolutely.”
“Shot through the heart, sis. I’m new here. Was only trying to get to know someone about my age,” Blackie motioned around to all the middle-aged men and women scrambling around the room, “Just look at all the blue hairs. It can make a guy uncomfortable.”
“Uh huh.” Gwen said sarcastically.
“Fine, fine, I know when I’m not wanted. See ya, ice queen,” Blackie backed up with his hands in the air. Gwen finally looked back at him. He stopped in his tracks. She smirked.
Gwen held out her hand. Blackie took it.
“No checking me out. No flirting with me. Normal, business-like behavior, and I’ll show you around,” Gwen said.
“What about your clipboard?” Blackie teased.
“I was finished well before you showed up.” Gwen replied. Blackie’s face fell. Okay, yeah, definitely a little harsh.
“’kay…so what’s first?” Blackie asked.
“First, I turn in my work to my boss. After that…?” Gwen grinned, “I show you all the toys.”
Blackie snickered. He tried to catch himself, but Gwen noticed his laugh. She frowned.
“Sorry, sorry,” Black raised his hands in surrender, “Force of habit. I’ve got the mind of a thirteen-year-old.”
“Got that right,” Gwen retorted.
“Let’s move on, shall we?” Blackie tried to lead the woman away from the damaged entryway, “I’m all for turning in that work of yours to…well, who’re we giving it to?”
Not yet following Blackie, Gwen pointed to a pudgy man standing near the entrance. Blackie stopped and followed Gwen’s hand. Blood drained from his face as he realized he knew her boss.
“My boss is right there actually—Dr. Octavius. Otto Octavius.”
…
Serval Tower was a glistening skyscraper centered in Brooklyn, the dark mirror image of Os Tower. Casually judging the citizens of New York below, the tower was a monument to humanity’s greatest achievements, or so believed Roderick Kingsley—Serval Industries’ CEO and fashion extraordinaire.
The self-declared ‘Kingpin of Industry’ stood proudly at the edge of his office, staring out over the city. A glistening smile that made the tabloids go wild only drove his present company madder. Harrison Snow, Kingsley’s opposite in nearly every way, the dark-haired, pale-skinned stick in contrast to the CEO’s blond-haired, sturdy built stone, sat quietly at his boss’s desk as he spoke.
“You’ve done fabulous work, Harrison. The Universal intruder’s blood sample will prove invaluable to our research.” Roderick turned around briskly, a glass of champagne in hand. The blond man motioned to the bottle with his glass. “Please, drink. Celebrate. Be Merry. Project Scorpion is near completion.”
Harrison put on his best fake smile and adjusted his black tie, “I’m afraid, sir, that I am not here to celebrate with you. There’s been an unfortunate development…”
Kingsley’s smile faded. He set his glass down, “Do tell.”
“The DNA has proven…difficult to crack. Dr. Hoffstead predicts it will take three months to complete the serum,” Harrison explained.
“Meanwhile, Osborn announces his own goddamn hero today,” Kingsley paused, his hands clenched into fists, “Our friend inside OsCorp says it’s going to BLOW THE WHOLE ****ING WORLD AWAY!”
Roderick knocked the bottle of champagne off his desk and slammed his hands down. Harrison simply stared at his boss coolly. The uncanny behavior was nothing new. Roderick Kingsley was certifiably insane.
As his boss continued to trash the room, Harrison remained unphased and spoke, “On the plus side, Mr. Kingsley, your deal with Jameson is going well. The Daily Bugle should be—legally now, not just behind the scenes—yours within a few months. That’s a check in the propaganda column.”
That one hint of a brighter tomorrow did nothing to better Kingsley’s mood, and when the tantrums got too horrible Harrison simply stood up and left. He silently swore one day Serval would be his, and that bloody psychopath would be dead in a ditch, wishing he’d never crossed paths with Harrison Snow!
…
“Y’know, your welcoming committee sucks.”
Norman Osborn merely sighed at Spider-Man’s unexpected arrival as the wallcrawler tapped the glass pane separating his office from the rest of Manhattan.
“I really expected a bouquet, maybe some signs, people screaming ‘welcome home, Spidey!’” Spider-Man continued, “What? Nothing? Tough crowd.”
Norman stood up and adjusted his suit, “I am impressed you’re on time, Mr. Parker. You have a history of being late.”
“I take it you’ve creeped on all my exes’ Facebook pages? …Psyche! What exes?” Spider-Man casually hopped indoors after Norman opened up the window pane.
“You better put that humor to good use later. I expect a crowd-winning speech out of you,” Norman retorted, before walking towards a drink cabinet by his desk, “Would you like something?”
“Oh yeah, right, I’ll totally take a drink from my evil boss, because it’s definitely not supervillain 101 to use a drink to poison or mind control or whatever the dashing hero,” Spider-Man retorted, “No thanks, Norman.”
“Mr. Osborn. And have it your way,” Norman poured himself some scotch, much to Peter’s amusement. As if this guy couldn’t get more predictable!
“When am I on?” Spidey asked, crossing his arms.
Norman sat down at his desk, sipping his drink, “Noon. Costume and speech check at 11. Until then, I’d like to speak with you.”
“As much as I’d like to be literally anywhere else, I’m here, so talk,” Spider-Man leaned back against the windowpane.
“Mr. Parker, I know you do not agree with the very basis of our deal, nor do you even like me. Truthfully, I expected neither. Not immediately, at least. However, I also know you are incredibly intelligent, therefore I know it shouldn’t be difficult for you to comprehend why this will be a beneficial partnership for the both of us. I will personally make sure you have all of OsCorp at your whim, I will take care of your Aunt, and together we will make the world a better place. You may not believe me, but please believe this…” Norman produced a pile of papers from a drawer and placed it on his desk.
Spider-Man’s eyes widened in shock, “This is…?”
“Your contract, yes. Please take your time to read through it. I assure you there’s nothing in here that you will disagree with,” Norman said. He took a sip of his scotch.
“I…I need a lawyer. Now. Like, now now.” Spider-Man muttered, dumbfounded.
“All in due time. For now, read it yourself. I don’t expect you to sign it until you’re ready.” Norman stood up, “I’ll be back in half an hour.”
And with that said, Norman left the room to tend to whatever it was he needed to tend to, leaving Peter alone to read through the document while simultaneously cursing his luck. This wasn’t good. He was going to make an actual legal paper trail. What the hell was he supposed to do? Who should he hire as a lawyer?
Maybe more importantly, what name should he sign with: Peter Parker or Spider-Man?
…
At precisely eleven o’clock, Norman Osborn reentered his office, much to Peter’s dismay. In the man’s right hand was a briefcase, which did not go unnoticed.
“My first payment?” Peter asked, tossing the contract onto Norman’s desk.
“No, but I do think you’ll like it more than money,” Norman held the briefcase out to Peter. The young man was hesitant to take it. “If we’re going to work together, you’ll have to trust me.”
Peter sighed and slowly clasped the handle of the briefcase, before pulling it out of Norman’s hand.
Setting the gift on his lap, Peter looked up at his would-be boss, “I didn’t sign the contract. Can we legally still go through with the press conference?”
“Of course,” Norman nodded, “Now, speaking of the press conference, take off your jacket and—”
“Whoa, slow down, cowboy,” Peter flipped out of the chair and latched onto the ceiling, his hood falling over his head, “We’ve not even gone on a first date yet.”
“I assure you, Mr. Parker, that this is nothing scandalous. Now please, take off your sweatshirt and open the briefcase,” Norman said.
Peter cocked his head to the side and looked over Norman for any signs of insincerity. The man remained calm, unflustered. Peter’s spider sense hadn’t gone off either. Fair enough, then.
“Ask and you shall receive,” Peter dropped to the ground and set the briefcase on Norman’s desk. First, he pulled down his hoodie’s zipper and let it fall to the ground, leaving his blue, spider symbol-emblazoned T-shirt as the rather lackluster showcase of his identity. Next, he flipped the two locks on the briefcase and slowly, reluctantly opened it.
Peter never got to see what was inside. Everything around him faded to black for a second before clearing up and leaving him just as he was. Or…better. He felt good. Stronger, faster, healthier. Weird.
Peter was still standing up. He hadn’t fainted. The young hero looked down at the briefcase. It was empty. What the hell had happened?
“I suggest you look in the mirror,” Norman simply stated, pointing to a vanity mirror on his desk. Peter did as he was told, and what he found shocked him. His entire body was covered in some sort of black suit, the only reminders of what he’d worn before were the white spider emblem on his chest and equally stark lenses over his eyes.
“What the hell did you do to me?” Peter muttered, too shocked to be mad.
“I made you better, Mr. Parker. That black suit is a product of the finest engineering OsCorp has to offer. Originally a failed experiment, that symbiote was altered with nanotechnology and made into a better, sleeker uniform for you—something that would even make the Fantastic Four jealous,” Norman replied proudly.
Peter pulled at the suit but it merely stretched, appearing unbreakable. He swiveled around, anger bubbling to the surface.
“Get it off of me! I don’t want your ****ing suit!” Peter shouted.
“You have no choice but to wear it. It tested well with most of the focus groups. Kids—even adults—like an edgy hero. That’s what the symbiote provides for you: edginess, grit. Black is the new black, Mr. Parker,” Norman crossed his arms, “Get used to it.”
“God!” Peter threw his hands into the air and marched away, “This is how it starts, right?? Next thing you know, you’ll actually be mind controlling me! I’ll be running errands, stealing crap for you, maybe even killing! **** my life! **** this!”
“Lighten up. You’re on in less than an hour,” Norman said.
“**** you!”
…
45 Minutes Later
The crowd billowed, mumbling and shifting as dozens—if not hundreds—waited for the OsCorp announcement that would ‘change the world.’ In what had, just hours earlier, been a completely trashed entry hall now stood a clean, high tech, newly renovated auditorium. Surely in the days to come it would be retrofitted into an entry hall again.
“Lord knows they need this after that accident—“
“—Heard something about nanobots—“
“—Harry Osborn is, like, so hot—“
“—You hear about the Sand guy over in Brooklyn—“
“—OMG! Is that Serval—“
“—Reporting live from Os Tower where—“
Shut up! Why won’t they all shut up???
Max Dillon just wanted silence, he wanted freedom, he wanted to be back in his own skin, but no, he’d been royally screwed over by life. First screwed over by Spider-Man, thrown in jail, and when he finally found a way out, it was this! Turned into a living, breathing bolt of lightning and on kill-duty, waiting for freaking Norman Osborn to show up. Gotta make a big show of it for Toomes or else he’d be mad…and when Toomes got mad…
Max shivered, causing a spark to shoot out of his hoodie and into the person next to him. The obese man turned to Max angrily and spouted some BS in his face, but Max couldn’t hear it. All he could focus on was the sick smell of onions in the guy’s breath, and the humming…the humming inside him…the power…
“—You a ****in’ mutie or somethin’? ****in’ smurf!”
“Quiet!” Max buzzed, grabbing the man by his thick neck. Instantly, electricity surged into his body and the man fell limp. Max had been lucky no one noticed the faint glowing till now, but after that—
Clapping. People were clapping. No one had noticed the corpse in Max’s hands, or the way he glowed. Good. Freaking idiots would be the deaths of themselves.
Max awkwardly pulled the corpse back out of the room with him, being careful not to bump into anyone. Luckily he had already been in the back of the room. No one noticed him as he left, except a security guard.
“Had a little too much to drink is all,” Max explained. The guard gave him a weird look, but he must’ve not been a mutie hater because he let Max walk right on out.
As soon as he was outside, Max ditched the body in an alley. He couldn’t just go back inside. No, he’d have to go with something a little more flamboyant, a little more electric…
…
Norman Osborn was greeted with applause so loud, no one could hear him as he first began to quiet the crowd. That was expected for someone like Norman; someone who revolutionized technology, medicine, and entertainment. OsCorp was intertwined so deeply within the American economy that intellectuals often put him near the top of the list of greatest Americans ever. Still, despite his fame, wealth, and power, the applause he received would become a forgotten afterthought in just minutes.
“Today,” the crowd at last quieted, “Today, I stand here with you to change the world. Now, I am more than aware you hear that every day from the tweeters and what-have-you’s that promise change on a global scale. Peace, good will for all, those are merely dreams in the eyes of those who promise it. They aren’t realities. However, today, with the cooperation of the rest of OsCorp and a young man who represents our finest attributes and ideals, I can promise you that we are taking a step towards that change, towards that reality. Today, I am proud to present to you the first ever hero,” Norman began to speed up his words as the crowd became restless, “who is truly socially conscious, who knows what is best for the world, who will take a step towards making a difference. I present to you—SPIDER-MAN!”
Norman reached back to stage right, a spotlight positioned to light up Peter like a Christmas tree. But no one came. Nobody appeared from beyond the curtain. Norman hid his fear and anger well.
“Spider-Man?” Norman said into the mic. Nothing. And then…
”Hello, True Believers!”
The webbed wonder, dressed in his original costume, slunk down from a web atop the ceiling until he rested a few feet over the crowd. The spotlights hurried to match his position as the crowd lost it. Norman merely grinned. The boy had surpassed his expectations. Now the only problem was his new costume…where was it?
Spider-Man posed briefly for pictures before swinging over next to Norman and wrapping his arm around him. He shook his hand fiercely, making sure to grip it hard enough for it to hurt.
“You’re a natural, Peter,” Norman said through a gritted smile.
“I’ve got some experience with entertaining,” Spider-Man retorted.
The cameras never stopped flashing, but they did slow down, and when they did Peter stepped up to the podium.
“Can’t say I’m used to that kind of a greeting,” a few laughs, “It’s okay. You can laugh. No judging here.” A few more. When the crowd quieted down, Spider-Man took a deep breath and began.
“I am proud to be here today to announce my partnership with Norman Osborn and OsCorp. Over the last year, I’ve…struggled to protect this city, the greatest city on Earth.” Cheers at that. “Now, with the help of Mr. Osborn here and the resources he can provide, I will struggle no longer. From now until the day I die, I will fight harder, work smarter and save more lives than ever before.”
“But…but what Norman was talking about earlier—that reality—it can’t be achieved with a few paper bills, or spandex, or a giant high tech headquarters. Peace can only be achieved when everyone decides to stand up and stay united, to protect and help one another, to make the world a better place every day.” Peter paused, struggling to continue, “My uncle once said, ‘with great power there must also come great responsibility.’ And I think…I think we all have the power to change the world, now it’s our responsibility to do so.” People lost it, but Peter wasn’t finished yet.
“That’s why, starting today, with the help of OsCorp I’ll help lead the charge by being a better hero, an All-New, All-Different Spider-Man!”
With those last words, Peter stretched his arms out wide and mentally ordered the symbiote to cover his body, revealing his new suit. Norman’s eyes widened as the crowd roared. He hadn’t known the suit could do that.
The suit…it’s reacting to him, to his DNA… Norman thought.
KRZZASSH!
The walls near the entrance exploded with lightning as a glowing blue man crackling with electrical energy hovered into the room. The crowd’s cheers were replaced with terrified screams.
“Ready to die, Spider-Man?!” The man shouted.
Guards tried to put the glowing man down, but their bullets merely melted upon touching him. Their aggression did not go unnoticed, however. The electrical man responded in kind, blasting them with bolts of electricity, leaving the security guards’ charred husks as their only remains.
Meanwhile, Spider-Man had leapt into action, swinging innocents to safety. He didn’t get more than three or four away before the electrical man blasted him with lighting. Luckily, the black suit appeared to be insulated, or at least could handle the electricity, and all Spider-Man received were a few bruised ribs from what felt like a punch to the gut.
“You hit like my aunt!” Spider-Man grunted, standing up out of the rubble of the wall he had just crashed into.
“Oh, always with the jokes!” the man laughed, floating towards Spidey, “God, I remember this. Question is: do you remember me?”
Spider sense. Spider-Man barely rolled out of the way of another bolt.
“Can’t say I do, which is odd ‘cause you seem like you’d leave a shocking impression, Electro—OAGH!” Spider-Man flipped up, a bolt singeing his leg. Luckily, this guy wasn’t as fast as the electricity he shot.
“Electro? Electro…” the glowing villain laughed, his chuckle crackling, “I like it, but I went by another name.”
“Charlie Sheen?” Spider-Man tried, glancing around, looking for anything that could hurt him.
“Max Dillon, but you can bet on me winning this one!” Electro shouted, firing another bolt. Spider-Man couldn’t dodge this attack, and ending up crashing through a whole wall and into another room.
Spider-Man flipped back up. He had to admit Osborn’s suit was a lifesaver. The electricity would have singed his normal clothes and he would have been on a one-way trip to fried Spidey-ville.
“See, that’s why I forgot you, Max. Your jokes suck,” Spider-Man swung away, dodging another bolt.
“Play fair, Spidey! Or else people get hurt!” Electro flew over to a family huddled in the corner, frozen in fear.
“NO!” Spider-Man swung for Electro.
“Too slow—“ Electro teased, raising his hand while the mother covered her two children’s eyes.
At the last second, the electrical man found himself knocked away by a blast of water as Spider-Woman entered the fray, hose in hand. While the family left Os Tower, Spidey swung towards the other hero.
“Where the hell’d you get a hose?” Spider-Man asked as he landed beside his female counterpart.
“Craigslist.” Spider-Woman said.
“For real!”
“I’m being serious,” Spider-Woman paused and looked at the hose in her hand, “Oh, you mean this hose! Yeah, there’s totally a fire station across the street. Cops are here too. Guess the NYPD is faster than lightning.”
“You stupid *****! Think you can beat me with a hose! A freaking hose!” Electro rose from the ground, “Goddamn two spiders. Gonna fry you both.”
Spidey turned to ‘Woman, “I’ll distract him. You get a team of firemen in here. Hose the hell out of him.”
“Got it,” Spider-Woman agreed, running out of the room.
Spidey turned to the threat at hand, barely dodging another lightning bolt.
“Yo, sparkles! Mind telling me where you got those powers of yours?” Spider-Man managed to actually get into Electro’s face, but a punch did nothing as his fist passed right through the villain. Spidey ended up on the wrong side of a lightning bolt and crashed into the ground.
“So you do remember me?” Electro retorted.
Spider-Man coughed, barely managing to sit up, and dazedly said, “I definitely remember no flashy-flash. …‘Flashy-flash?’ Did I really just say that?”
“Heh. Someone wants you dead, Spidey, and I’m happy to help with that.” Electro raised his hand, “Speaking of…”
FWOOSH!
Four jets of water crashed into Electro and caused him to scream in agony as he exploded with electricity. Spider-Woman casually stood to the side, leading four firefighters onwards. She high-fived them one-by-one.
“Very nice!” she cheered.
“What did I say about the hose??” Electro roared, having recovered faster than anyone expected. Spidey’s lenses widened in fear.
The next few seconds seemed to happen in slow motion. It began with Peter’s spider sense blaring in his head. Then, a kid, no…a young man, a little older than Peter, ran out from behind the auditorium. He yelled ‘catch’ and threw a small silver object. Spider-Man instinctually flipped off the ground as Electro fired the biggest blast of electricity yet. The lightning flew past Spidey’s chest and towards the firefighters, but Spider-Woman tackled them out of harm’s way, the bolt barely passing over their heads.
In mid air, spinning, Spider-Man caught the thrown device, a circular silver and black rubber pad infused with an orange orb in the center. No time to think, just act, Spider-Man took a risk that could very well cost him his life and, as Electro fired another bolt of electricity at him, raised the device towards the villain. The electricity surged into the device, but seemed to be caught in it. The orb in the center began to glow blue.
Spider-Man, aware his test had worked, fired a webline at the ceiling. Using it to propel himself forward, Spider-Man launched himself towards Electro as the villain grinned cockily, ready to fry the hero with a touch. Before he reached Electro, Spider-Man raised the device in front of him. The villain’s eyes widened in confusion. The two made contact, and in a second, with a flash of light, the device absorbed Electro, leaving nothing but a glowing blue orb in his wake.
Spider-Man took a deep breath, the battle done. The firefighters cheered. The webbed wonder raised his hand in victory, and then lowered it slowly, pointing at the young man on stage.
“What’s your name?” Spider-Man asked.
“Blackie Drago. I…uh, I actually work for OsCorp too. Starting today,” Blackie replied.
“Well, Blackie, you had a helluva first day,” Spider-Man limped towards Blackie as reporters pushed past police officers and firefighters to get to the scoop of the week. Meanwhile, Spider-Woman stared at Spider-Man coolly before swinging off, too fast for any of the reporters to catch her.
“A hell of a first day, indeed,” Norman Osborn was led by three bodyguards, one of whom rushed to pick up the device incarcerating Electro, “Mr. Drago, I believe you’re Otto’s brother, yes?”
Blackie nodded his head, still in shock, as cameras flashed. Spider-Man managed to walk up onstage. Norman extended his hand to the young man as the three stood united.
“Welcome to Team Spider-Man, Mr. Drago,” Norman smiled at the cameras.
Spider-Man retorted weakly, “Hope you survive the experience.”
…
Elsewhere
Neither Felicia Hardy, nor the newly dubbed Beetle or Jack O’Lantern knew what to think of Adrian Toomes’ reaction to the sight before him playing out on live TV. Spider-Man had defeated and captured Electro in…well, something, Felicia thought. She’d never been a science person. But she did like to think she knew people well, and she thought this experience would cause Toomes to be mad not…giddy.
“Oh, this is wonderful! So, so wonderful!” Toomes gleefully shouted, dancing around as his birds cawed.
“You okay, boss?” the high-tech suit wearing Beetle—once known as Abner Jenkins—asked.
“E-Electric Man got fried,” the upgraded Jack O’Lantern serial killer, Jason Macendale, agreed.
“Oh yes,” Toomes said, “Don’t you see? I was going to have to prolong the plans anyway. We didn’t have our six, but now—now we won’t just wait. Now we have someone inside OsCorp.”
“What?” Beetle and Jack O’Lantern replied simultaneously.
“You blasted idiots! Electro—I believe that is what they are calling him—yes, yes, it is—Electro is too powerful to contain. One day, they’ll make a mistake, forget to up his protection, et cetera and everything will blow up in their faces. We have a literal bomb inside them. Spider-Man and Norman Osborn are finished,” Toomes cawed, “And best of all, Electro has trackers inside him. Wherever they take him, we can follow!”
“Trackers? In a man made of pure electricity?” Beetle wondered.
“Yes,” Felicia admitted, “Our associate is quite talented. You’d be surprised what the Tinkerer can do.”
“Oh, this is just wonderful. Like an early Christmas. It will give the Jackal enough time to complete the last two! Then the Sinister Six will arise and we will take control of New York!” Toomes declared.
“Wait, I…” Beetle paused, “I am sorry for asking so many questions, but…two? We need three more men, and that is only if we count Electro.”
“You silly, silly fool,” Toomes began to laugh maniacally, “You think I would not have a hand in the murder of Wilson Fisk, of the conquering of New York? I am the sixth sinister member! I may be old, but I am still strong and even better—fierce! I. AM. CAWK!”
Adrian Toomes erupted into a horrible coughing fit, and Felicia had to help him to his throne. Only after receiving medical attention and allowing himself to rest did Toomes regain the ability to speak, but by that time the others had left. Eventually, the man was left alone with his birds, sadly gazing at the door.
Toomes hoarsely whispered, a single tear falling down his cheek, “I am the Vulture…”