"You should pay attention, Gwen!" Glory said sharply, not pleased with Gwen's performance.
Gwen's beat had been a beat behind just now, and even Betty noticed. It wasn't that Betty wasn't good at music—far from it—but Betty herself was easily distracted.
"Maybe we should get some corn dogs, lighten the mood," Betty suggested, trying to offer a solution to the tension.
"That's not going to help at all," Glory dismissed the idea, her tone laced with disbelief.
"If you can, Gwen, you really should focus on the band. We're about to play at Felicia Hardy's concert," Glory added, her words laced with frustration. "I still don't get why that French woman would invite a small band like ours."
Gwen knew exactly why Black Cat had invited the Mary Janes, but she couldn't bring herself to say it aloud, not here.
"Sorry, I'll pay attention," Gwen apologized, realizing she had let her thoughts wander again.
Glory wasn't trying to reprimand Gwen but felt a headache coming on. She pressed her hand to her forehead and sighed. "I'm sorry, Gwen. I didn't mean to sound harsh. Maybe my tone was a little over the top. I just... I don't know. I guess I just want to cherish these days when we're still all together."
Before she could finish, Betty, who was a little absent-minded and always wearing glasses, spoke up, her voice filled with surprise. "Why?"
Glory let out a long sigh. "After my car accident, my parents have been restricting my extracurricular activities. They want me to focus more on studying."
Gwen's attention shifted. She had no idea that Glory had gone through such an experience.
"I'm not quitting the band, don't worry. But I might not be able to stay as the lead singer anymore," Glory continued. "I'll still be around, but there's this girl joining us. She's really talented, and she's got the perfect voice for the role."
Gwen, putting down her drumstick, asked, "Who is she?"
"Her name is MJ, Mary Jane Watson. She's a high school student who just transferred from Pennsylvania."
Betty didn't like the idea. She couldn't imagine anyone else leading the band. After all, Glory had been the one to lead them through thick and thin.
"Does she have a better voice than Felicia?" Betty whispered to herself. "I haven't met her, but I don't like her already."
Gwen didn't say much, but her mind was working. This MJ girl, she had never heard of her before, but there was something about her that felt... off. Gwen's intuition was rarely wrong, and she couldn't shake the feeling that MJ was going to cause trouble for her.
The next day, at the Fisk Building.
Kingpin sat on a plush sofa, watching the news on his TV.
"Our top story today…" the blonde female host began. "The body of Frederick Falswell, a notorious crime boss, was found in the East River. Authorities are baffled by the state of his body. Unconfirmed reports suggest that his skull was shattered."
Kingpin's expression didn't change. He watched the TV, unmoved.
"Was the body thrown off a bridge? Why was he killed?" the host continued. "These are the questions currently plaguing investigators."
Kingpin clicked the remote, turning off the TV. He stood up slowly.
Falswell's death was his doing. In fact, it was Kingpin who had blasted the man's skull with a car door clamp just the night before. Were these idiots so incompetent that they couldn't figure out how to dispose of a body properly?
Before he could call his men, his secretary interrupted with news.
"A police sergeant, George Stacey, is here to see you, boss."
Kingpin's eyes narrowed. Not this guy again.
He wasn't fond of the policeman who had chased him down recently.
"Tell him I'm not available," Kingpin ordered, irritation creeping into his voice.
"He insists it's about Frederick Falswell's case."
Kingpin's frown deepened. "I told you to reject him! Is he here to arrest me or something?"
"Yes, sir."
The secretary stammered, unsure how to handle the situation.
Kingpin stood by the large glass window, his eyes following George Stacey as he and two officers walked out of the building. George paused for a moment, seemingly sensing something, and turned back, looking directly at the tall building.
Kingpin raised his chin slightly in response.
After George disappeared from view, Kingpin made a call, his voice cold as he gave orders.
"Tell that useless producer at Channel 5 to stop mentioning me—Wilson Fisk, 'Kingpin,' 'Kingpin Crimes,' all of it. If they continue this nonsense, that TV station will be ours."
He hung up and dialed another number.
"The guy who helped me contact the Russian gang, Alexei, you call him the Rhino Man, right?"
Rhino Man—Alexei Mikhailovich—was a thug from the Russian gang in New York, a former experiment who had become nearly invulnerable after being coated in a tough polymer and paired with rhino horns. Despite his disgust for such a grotesque figure, Kingpin knew he needed him now.
"Get him on the job," Kingpin added. "The target is George Stacey."
---
At school the next day, Peter tried to keep his focus during history class.
The teacher asked, "Has anyone read the chapter on Watergate?"
Most of the students groaned, their attention drifting as they flipped through their books. Peter didn't want to get into trouble for skipping classes, so he dutifully stayed seated.
He had no real interest in what the teacher was saying, though. His mind was still on last night's strange experience in the swamp. He had seen the Wendigo ghost. That kind of thing wasn't something you just forget.
The teacher continued, oblivious to the disinterest around him. "This recording was recently made available. It was never supposed to be released, but here it is. You all know how it could have been destroyed. Our president could have just erased it, but he didn't. Let's turn to page 361."
Books began to shuffle as everyone reluctantly followed the instruction. Peter found his place in the textbook and tried to focus. But his mind kept drifting.
Last night, he had witnessed a supernatural event. A ghost. Not just any ghost, but a creature straight from legend. A Wendigo. He couldn't deny it had unsettled him.
"And what do you think about the recording we just heard?" the teacher asked, looking around the room.
Gwen, clearly distracted, wasn't paying attention either. When the teacher called on her, she hesitated before answering, "I think he sounds sad, maybe a little helpless."
Peter raised an eyebrow, glancing at her. Was she thinking about the band again?
"Well said, Gwen. But there's also indignation!" the teacher replied, and then continued explaining the tone of the recording.
Peter raised his hand. "He believes no one can touch him. He's too powerful to be stopped."
The teacher blinked, then smiled, impressed by Peter's quick answer. "Excellent, Peter. Perfect answer!"
Peter smiled, only for his phone to vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out and read the text from Gwen.
"Perfect rescue, Peter. You helped me save face in there."
He looked over at Gwen, who was sitting a few desks away, clearly relieved. He replied: "Been practicing with the band lately?"
"Not as much as I'd like. It's boring without you," Gwen typed quickly.
Peter felt his lips curl into a smile. "I'm sure Glory and Betty are still keeping it interesting?"
Gwen replied: "I'm going to Felicia Hardy's concert this Sunday. It's not huge, but it's a big deal for her. Are you coming?"
"If nothing else comes up, I'll be there."
Gwen quickly responded: "If you say that, I'm worried something might happen."
Peter typed back: "What was I doing yesterday? It's a long story. You won't believe it, but I saw a ghost."
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