Our blunders mostly come from letting our wishes interpret our duties.  ~Author Unknown



For the past 10 minutes, any exposed skin on me had been attacked by the sharp, frosty wind. The air itself would have been bearable, but the wind made it a torture. I was sincerely regretting my decision, but my stubbornness and pride drove me on.

'Well, I wanted to go out against all odds…this is my punishment. 10 minutes of walking through Antarctica. Who cares? I will survive!'

I gritted my teeth and put my head down…no way would a little breeze send me home! I WOULD get to that bus stop and go to the mall…perhaps in the form of the first human ice cube.

'Get to the bus stop and I’ll be fine …Get to the bus stop and a glass shelter will be sitting there waiting for me, waiting to give me some protection against the wind.'

27 other people had apparently had the exact same idea as me. Half of those were huddled up underneath the shed already, crammed in like a can of sardines. The glares they were giving to each other made the fact that there was no room very prominent. The rest of the waiting crowd shivered outside in the cold, where I silently took my place. I mentally screamed at the world for its unfairness, then quietly took it back when I saw a homeless man sitting several feet away, trying to draw warmth from some crumpled up newspapers.

'This is unfair…I have a cotton sweater to protect me against the elements, and he’s using newspaper….'

I quickly decided to ignore the beggar. There was a homeless shelter a quarter of a mile off, right? I have my own life, and my own set of problems to deal with. Someone else will surely see the man and offer him a few extra dollars in their pocket. People would pretend to be poor just so they could get free bucks, so I could easily dismiss this man as one, right? I locked my gaze on the road, and waited.
After 3 minutes of constant fidgeting, I decided it was time to take up a new hobby – people watching. Despite the chills, scores of people were scampering along the sidewalk, and it would be the perfect chance to observe.

'Let’s see – there’s a jogger…in SHORTS? I thought I was cold…On to a newer, saner person. A businesswoman. She’s like my dad, always on the phone! Wow, she’s talking a hundred miles an hour…and screaming like there’s no tomorrow! Assistant must have given her the wrong coffee…'

I paused in my observation for the briefest of seconds to consider that there was a Starbucks where I was going. A pumpkin spice latte sounded very nice today.

'HMMM, by the glasses on him and the mismatched clothes, he is definitely a geek...from the beaver on his sweatshirt he has to be from MIT…OH a soccer mom and boy is she-'

Red and blue filled my vision in a giant sweeping motion.  I abandoned my watching just to see a glimpse of the amazing being. Everyone immediately dropped what they were doing just to turn and see our hometown hero swing by – yup, Spiderman is here.  I held my breath and watched the wall crawling wonder as he offered a small wave to us masses…then with another flick of his wrist he was gone, disappearing behind a corner. It hadn’t been but a month since a climatic battle between the hero and a black menace with the sandman.  I had watched the great fight on the news, watched as he was nearly pounded to death by the sandman, trying to save a young woman. And I watched as he won.

'We have a hero among us! Who could he be?'

Even though he was gone, the multitude began an ovation. I joined in, proudly honoring our protector – with him around, what could possibly go wrong?




Frank Wilder sat and waited, waited for his moment. He was among the most brilliant minds of the century, a true genius in genetics and numerous other fields. He had worked with the mastermind Norman Osborn in pursuit of the formula for superhuman abilities.  They had nearly succeeded…but that fool!
Remembering Norman, Frank shook his head, disgusted. They had been so close! It would have been a giant step for all of science. To increase someone’s strength by 800% was thought impossible, but they had done it…and Norman shattered their hopes and any chances. He had abandoned all calls for safety and tested the formula prematurely, under pressure, and had gone insane. Yes, Frank knew the whole truth about the madman, the Goblin. But Norman was gone now, and no one was here to hold Frank back. It had been Frank who had suggested the use of certain animals’ DNA to balance the effects of the chemical. The idea was ignored, haughtily laughed off by Norman.

'And now he’s dead,' Frank though smugly.

Even though he had been one of the several hundred fired in the aftermath of the chaos that ensued, he had taken some insurance with him - a large vile of the nearly completed substance. He had toiled on it for years, and now it was ready for the final touches. His glorious moment was about to come!

“Mr. Wilder?”

Frank’s eyes snapped up toward the secretary.

“Mr. Fisk will see you now.”

Frank practically jumped out of his chair and confidently marched toward the double oak doors. His time had come – he would be rich, and the world would now know that he was the true mastermind of this superhuman DNA. Frank paused as the secretary opened the doors then strode two steps into the expensively furnished room – and his confidence vanished.





Wilson Fisk smirked when he saw the scientist’s firm resolve empty out.  It was always the same with them – they would waltz into his office, confident of their ideas, and the minute they set foot into his domain they would quake under his gaze. Their pride in their abilities would seep away, unable to stand against the truth of that moment – failure was unacceptable. And there was only one punishment fit for failure.

'So pathetic,' Fisk thought. 'They all are.'

The frown that fleeted across his brow was gone in a split second. Mr. Wilder would have never seen it, even if he hadn’t been consumed by terror.

'They all fear me…all but one.'

The frown came again, deeper, but temporary.

'All except…two.'

Fisk slammed the door on the thought and returned his attention to Wilder.
“Mr. Wilder,” Fisk began with a smirk, “Do sit down. Might I call you Frank? Let us be pleasant with one another.”
“Frank” stumbled toward the chair in a final exhaust of energy and plopped down in it. He could only look upon Fisk with the fear that a man looks with upon his executioner. He could not give a reply, much less show formal manners.
Fisk beckoned to one of his servants who immediately brought forth a gold lined case filled with Cuban cigars.
“Smoke?” He offered one to Frank, who managed a small shake of the head. Fisk took one, and took his time lighting it and began to take soft draws of the nicotine. He enjoyed this game of cat and mouse, to increase a victim’s suspense by dragging out the time. It was essential that he establish a healthy reverence with his employees from the beginning – it would create fewer problems, fewer people to be…dealt with. Violence in a company is such a dreadful thing…
“Frank,” he began casually, “You know my realm of business. I am respected and influential in this city. I give to charities, sponsor programs for poverty relief, and yet there are those who still deny me respect. Deny me the honor that I so clearly deserve. I can ignore these people, because they do not matter in the least bit. But it is when these people begin to threaten me, begin to make claims against me, that I take action. Such talk cannot be excused.”
Fisk paused to breathe in the aroma of the cigar before continuing.
“And it is usually easy. A suicide, a wreck, perhaps a mugging gone bad…”
Fisk watched as the realization hit Wilder. He watched as the color slowly drained from his face as he straightened in his chair. Fisk reveled in this horror, secretly laughing, before going on.
“But a few are slightly harder. They simply won’t….die. It is then that I call upon geniuses such as yourself to assist me in my quest for honor and respect.”
Fisk put his cigar in the crystal ashtray and slowly leaned forward toward Wilder.
“Mr. Wilder, I won’t beat around the bush anymore. I need your assistance to rid myself of a certain “bug”. You cannot be at a loss to know who I am referring to. He is getting closer and closer everyday to destroying my realm. Now, granted, that will take a considerable amount of time, but I prefer to nip a problem while it’s still in the bud. This menace, I have already tried defeating him through my best men, and he overcomes them every…single…time.”
Fisk’s eyes narrowed as the fake politeness vanished in one moment. It was time to get to business.
“I need someone powerful. Someone who, after this matter is over, can continue to work for me, and I want you to lead the way. And I want it now. Will you do it?”
Frank began to tremble. He knew the cost if he failed…but the POWER. The glory that would come with success! The temptation was great. Frank looked at the crime lord, offering a small smile as some of his confidence reappeared. He would do it.
“Mr. Fisk,” Frank said shakily, licking his lips before continuing, “I know what you feel. You want the respect you deserve, that has eluded you. I, too, want my pay.”
Frank’s heartbeat nearly tripled as he experienced a glimmer of hope as Fisk let a small smirk come upon his face. Frank’s hope arose and he went on.
“I will work for you. I will help eliminate competition that might hurt you. I will persecute any that dare speak out or oppose you. Whatever you need, I will give.”
Fisk didn’t need to ponder this. He had his man. But one thing remained.
“Frank,” He spoke sweetly, allowing some of his former charm to return, “Do you give me your word on that? Your signature?”
A servant that had been standing off to the side quickly came forward with the documents. And Wilder needed no urging. He snatched the pen that the butler offered, and had written his first name on the line before Fisk stopped him.
“There is one condition that I wish to bring to your attention.”
He motioned to one of his five bodyguards, who left the room in a light jog.
Under normal circumstances, Fisk would not be so kind. But this matter was pressing.  He needed to take care of this one small detail so he wouldn’t suffer later.
“Mr. Fisk!”
He snapped a glare toward Wilder. If Fisk wanted him, he would ask. But Frank ignored the glare and blabbered on.
“I told you – whatever you need!”
And with that, the last name was signed.
Fisk leaned back in his leather chair and looked at Wilder with something related to wonder. He was one of the few that jumped into the deal headfirst. Most waited on and on and had to be repeatedly prodded and assured.
“Mr. Wilder, I would have preferred you waited, but your decision is final. I won’t let you change it.”
The door that the guard had gone from suddenly opened. The guard walked in, nodding toward Fisk as he resumed his position. As the man he had accompanied entered, the color that Wilder had regained left again.
“You will be working with this other great scientist. You will act as partner to one another, to ensure no mistakes are made.”
Wilder merely continued to stare as the man fully entered the room…four mechanical arms hissing and snapping as he did.