With school temporarily closed for reconstruction, Peter Parker had devoted virtually all his time to his responsibilities as Spider-Man. The results had been remarkable—crime rates in Queens had dropped to their lowest levels in decades, with most street-level criminals either imprisoned or scared into seeking opportunities in less well-patrolled neighborhoods.
Peter's restless nature, however, made it impossible for him to simply enjoy this success. Once Queens had been thoroughly cleaned up, he naturally began considering expansion into other areas of New York City that desperately needed superhero intervention.
This ambition had led him to strengthen his partnership with Daredevil, the Hell's Kitchen vigilante with whom he had occasionally worked in the past.
The success of this superhero partnership had not gone unnoticed in the underworld. The emergence of a second Spider-Man figure—the mysterious "Prime" who had captured the Green Goblin—represented an escalation that threatened to completely destabilize the criminal status quo in New York City.
This concern had motivated Madame Gao's current meeting with Bullseye in an abandoned warehouse deep within Hand territory.
"We can cooperate," Madame Gao agreed after careful consideration, her weathered features betraying none of the calculations running through her mind. "But what exactly do you propose to accomplish?"
She leaned forward slightly, her deceptively frail appearance masking the deadly capabilities that had made her one of the Hand's most feared leaders.
"If I recall correctly, you and the Green Goblin had already established a working relationship before his capture. Now that he's imprisoned, your alliance provides no immediate benefit to our operations."
"Which is precisely why we must arrange his rescue," Bullseye replied without emotion. "Rebuilding our alliance will significantly strengthen our combined capabilities against these costumed vigilantes."
Kingpin had already begun recruiting additional assassins and enhanced criminals for the upcoming operation. When the time came to move against Spider-Man and Daredevil, overwhelming force would be essential to ensure success.
Madame Gao's expression shifted to one of calculated cunning. "If you want the Hand's assistance in freeing the Green Goblin, we can certainly arrange that. However, our price for such cooperation will be two doses of the modified lizard serum."
As one of the Hand's five leaders, she was intimately familiar with the value of the biotechnology that Stromm possessed. Enhancement serums represented power that transcended conventional criminal capabilities—exactly the kind of advantage the Hand needed to reclaim their position in New York's underworld.
Bullseye had no authority to negotiate such terms. "You are exceptionally greedy, Madame Gao."
Kingpin's voice emerged from the radio device clipped to Bullseye's belt, the crime lord having monitored the entire conversation from his secure location.
Madame Gao showed no surprise at this revelation. "Kingpin, if you desire our cooperation, you must demonstrate appropriate sincerity in your negotiations."
A lengthy silence followed before Kingpin's response crackled through the radio. "Very well. But in exchange, the Hand must also prove their commitment to this alliance."
Madame Gao's slight nod indicated she was prepared to hear his terms.
"Don't insult us by offering your street-level gang members for this operation," Kingpin warned. "I'm well aware that the Hand possesses individuals with genuine supernatural capabilities. If we're to successfully eliminate enhanced targets like Spider-Man, only your most skilled operatives will suffice."
The Hand's true assets included ninjas trained in mystical arts, assassins who could manipulate chi energy, and warriors whose abilities transcended normal human limitations. Such resources would be essential for confronting opponents who possessed superhuman reflexes and abilities.
"Naturally," Madame Gao replied smoothly. "I will ensure our most capable ninjas are prepared for deployment."
After the communication ended, Bullseye departed Hand territory with their alliance tentatively established. Back at Kingpin's headquarters, a small army of hired killers was already assembling, waiting for the optimal moment to strike.
While Kingpin hadn't explicitly revealed his plan, Bullseye possessed enough strategic insight to understand the logic. With every major organization in the city monitoring the Green Goblin's situation, attempting a prison break while security remained at maximum levels would be foolishly premature.
The ideal opportunity would come when other parties had relaxed their vigilance—specifically, during the Green Goblin's trial proceedings.
There was another tactical consideration influencing this timing. The original Spider-Man continued patrolling New York City regularly, but the black-costumed figure who called himself "Prime" had vanished entirely after capturing the Green Goblin.
Kingpin theorized that since Prime had been responsible for Stromm's defeat, he would likely appear at the trial—either publicly or covertly—to witness his victory's final conclusion.
Of course, Kingpin's assumption was fundamentally flawed. The Green Goblin's fate had already been sealed by the submission disc embedded in his nervous system, and Ben had no intention of wasting time observing legal proceedings that were merely for show.
The criminal underworld wasn't the only sector paying attention to the mysterious new vigilante. When Peter Parker arrived at the Daily Bugle with his latest collection of Spider-Man photographs, J. Jonah Jameson's reaction was far more hostile than usual.
The gray-haired editor sat behind his desk with his feet propped up, chomping aggressively on an expensive cigar as he rifled through Peter's submissions with obvious disdain.
"Garbage!" Jameson shouted, sweeping the entire stack of photographs into his wastebasket with a violent gesture that nearly dislodged the ash from his cigar. "Absolute garbage!"
"Parker, I'm not paying premium rates for this recycled trash!"
Peter stared in bewilderment. "I thought you would appreciate these shots. They show Spider-Man's crime-fighting activities in excellent detail..."
He had been selling photographs to Jameson for over a month, becoming familiar with the editor's habitual attempts to negotiate lower prices through theatrical displays of dissatisfaction. But today felt different—Jameson had actually discarded the photographs entirely rather than simply complaining about their value.
"Appreciate?" Jameson's laugh was sharp and contemptuous, his multiple chins quivering with amusement. "If you think I'm going to waste money on these outdated images, you're completely deluded!"
Peter remained confused by this unexpected rejection.
"He wants photographs of the Black Spider," Robbie Robertson explained helpfully from his position near the editorial desk.
"Black Spider? You mean Prime?"
"Exactly!" Jameson's neck flushed red as his voice rose to characteristic shouting levels. "Do you have any idea who the most newsworthy masked menace in New York City is right now? Prime! The mysterious black vigilante!"
He jabbed his cigar in Peter's direction for emphasis. "If you want to earn money from this newspaper, get your spider friend to arrange some interesting photo opportunities with the new guy! Otherwise, get out of my office!"
Peter found himself practically pushed from the building by Jameson's tirade, though he wasn't particularly intimidated by the editor's bombastic behavior. What surprised him was the revelation that Prime—who had made only a single public appearance—had somehow captured the city's imagination more effectively than Spider-Man's months of consistent crime-fighting.
The realization brought mixed emotions. Peter felt genuinely happy for Ben's unexpected celebrity status, but also experienced a twinge of jealousy at being overshadowed by someone who hadn't put in nearly the same amount of street-level work.
"All those smelly sewers and dangerous encounters," Peter muttered to himself, "and he gets famous from one fight..."
Robbie Robertson emerged from the office and placed a reassuring hand on Peter's shoulder. "Don't take it personally, Peter. Sometimes scarcity creates more interest than availability. Prime's mysterious nature makes him more intriguing to the public."
Peter nodded thoughtfully. "Spider-Man wouldn't mind helping with that. They seem to work well together. Maybe I can convince Spider-Man to arrange an introduction..."
He smiled while mentally planning how to persuade Ben to don his costume for a collaborative photo session.
As Peter prepared to leave, Betty Brant called out from the reception desk. "Wait, Peter. Your payment."
She handed him a small stack of cash, which surprised him given Jameson's earlier rejection.
"But Mr. Jameson said he wouldn't pay for the photographs. He threw them all in the trash."
"Trust me," Betty replied with knowing amusement, "he'll retrieve those pictures from the garbage within an hour and feature them on tomorrow's front page with some new conspiracy theory about Spider-Man threats—probably including speculation about Prime."
Robbie and Betty clearly understood Jameson's behavioral patterns better than Peter had realized.
With payment in hand, Peter's mood improved considerably. In truth, he no longer needed photography income for family financial security. Ben's company had completely transformed the Parker household's economic situation, allowing Ben Sr. to stop worrying about unemployment while giving May the option to resign from her job in favor of community volunteer work.
Ben had offered Peter a research position at Primus, but Peter had declined—partly due to his commitment to Spider-Man activities, and partly due to his determination to earn money independently rather than accepting what felt like charity from his cousin.
Photography provided the perfect solution: a legitimate skill that complemented his superhero career while maintaining his financial independence.
However, today's encounter with Jameson had planted an idea in Peter's mind. "Taking pictures of just myself is getting repetitive," he mused. "Maybe I really should ask Ben to collaborate on some Prime photos..."
Primus Technologies - Later That Day
Peter made his way to Queens and the address Ben had provided when revealing his company's existence to the family. May and Ben Sr. had visited once, nearly suffering heart attacks when they discovered that the fugitive Dr. Connors was working there, until Ben had explained the circumstances and proven the doctor's innocence.
But when Peter arrived at the Primus facility, he found the normally organized laboratory space had been completely rearranged to accommodate what appeared to be a badly weathered recreational vehicle parked in the center of the room.
If Dr. Connors hadn't been standing nearby with his pet lizard, Peter would have assumed he had entered the wrong building.
"It's a large motorhome," Connors explained when he noticed Peter's confused expression.
"I can see that," Peter replied, "but why is there an RV inside your laboratory?"
A small gray head emerged from beneath the vehicle's chassis—Ben in his Grey Matter form, his enlarged cranium making him unmistakable despite his diminutive size.
"I'm building an anti-gravity vehicle for the Stark Expo," Ben announced, extending one tiny hand. "Pass me that wrench."
Peter located the requested tool and handed it down to his transformed cousin. "Even so, you didn't need to start with something this... vintage."
He examined the RV with obvious skepticism. The vehicle's exterior showed extensive wear, with yellowing paint, surface rust, and an overall appearance that suggested it had been manufactured several decades ago.
"This thing is practically an antique," Peter observed.