What If: Whence Came The Spider - Chapter 2 free porn video

What If: Whence Came the Spider - Chapter 2 By Bill Hart I am Uatu. Welcome back friends. I am - as you all are no doubt aware - known more simply as the Watcher. It is my sole function to watch and observe what happens here. I have taken a solemn vow to do nothing else save observe. From my hidden domicile on the farside of the solitary moon of this blue gem simply called Earth that circles the rather ordinary and otherwise insignificant Type G star known as Sol, I watch events unfold across the infinite vastness of the timeless multiverse. Even I must admit that I have always been fascinated with the wide diversity that is the planet Earth across the countless planes of the multiverse. There is simply no other known world that comes close to comparing with it. But you know all of that already. During your last visit, we had been observing the life of an alternate Peter Parker. It was, for the most part, a life not so much different than any of the other Peter Parkers, who, in their own particular aspects of the multiverse, are better known to others as the Amazing Spider-Man. In that world into which we were observing, as in all those others, Peter Parker lived with his Aunt May and Uncle Ben. He'd been sent to live with them after his parents had been tragically killed under odd circumstances in an overseas plane crash. Peter was, has always been, a remarkably brilliant young man. But brilliant young men like Peter typically had problems. They were not generally numbered among those thought popular among their high school peers. In this, Midtown High in suburban Forest Hills, New York was no exception to that rule. The poor young lad was teased and tormented endlessly. He had few, if any, friends to speak of. And then, there was that lone spider, which, much like Peter, had simply had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. In her final dying gasp, the massively irradiated spider had sunk her fangs into Peter's hand. Just as had happened in countless other aspects of the multiverse, her painful bite had imbued young Peter Parker with both the proportionate strength and agility of her kind. As so many other of his alternate selves did in their own aspects, Peter fought Crusher Hogan and won with unimaginable ease. He then appeared on the Ed Sullivan show. However, he also failed to stop that petty thief, who would, only a few days later, murder his Uncle Ben. Those never-to-be-forgotten words of his wise uncle, "With great power came great responsibility," still echo in the minds of every Peter Parker across the vastness of the multiverse. It was at this point in time that our story began its divergence from the vast majority of all the others. Following the speedy capture of that thief who was also Uncle Ben's murderer, the guilt-wracked Peter suffered through a restless and fitful night of peculiar dreams and endless thrashing. And once the light of morning finally arrived, Peter very quickly discovered that its proportionate strength and agility weren't the only things he'd gained as a result of the dying spider's bite. She had also imbued him with her gender. In addition to his overnight change of sex, Peter had also gained the power to mesmerize others. She had instinctively used her new power to convince Aunt May that her nephew Peter had gone to Minnesota for a lengthy visit with Ben's brother. And since her own parents had been concerned about May staying alone, she, May's niece Pamela Parker, had been sent to live with her until Peter returned. But Pamela Parker had a mind that was totally her own. As her interests kept steadily diverging from those of Peter, she became increasingly determined to take full control of their shared body she now considered her own. Most importantly, she'd been accepted by those who could have never accepted her as Peter. Following a night of mindless pleasure with Flash Thompson, she'd finally taken total and complete mental control as Peter's shattered mind sought its own safe refuge elsewhere. The following morning, in a manner so very typical of arachnids, young Pamela had dealt very swiftly with Flash Thompson. It is at this point that our story now continues. *** It was simply a wonderful morning, as far as Pamela Parker was concerned. How could it possibly be anything else? As she stretched her arms, she felt so marvelously alive. The spray of cold water from the showerhead made her nipples stiffen and go all tingly. It made her feel utterly fantastic. This shower was just as restorative and energizing now as it had been that very first time. She still found it difficult to believe that her dull former male self Peter had discovered, even if by accident, something so sensually invigorating. Just taking a shower was a fabulously stimulating experience for her. In Pamela's mind, the feelings it invoked rivaled having sex. Well, almost anyway. She could very easily stay in the shower all day long. And she might have actually done so if she hadn't had several other things in need of getting done. But if not all day, she could certainly stay in the shower for a little while longer. *** The old man was quite pleased with himself. After several years of long hard work, the last few having eaten away what little money he'd managed to save, he'd finally succeeded with his work. Very few people, especially his former crooked business partner who had cheated him out of nearly everything, had thought he'd ever succeed. However, his new electromagnetic harness made that old bulky prototype he'd initially developed just another extinct dinosaur by comparison. He'd already designed and made the perfect costume to complement his new harness. No one would ever know how he was capable of doing what they would soon see him do. Very soon now he'd show that thief Gregory Bestman, as well as the rest of the disbelieving world, that Adrian Toomes was not a man with whom anyone could trifle. *** J. Jonah Jameson, publisher and editor-in-chief of the influential 'Daily Bugle', glowered at the reporter cowering in front of him. "What do you mean? How could that Spider-Man character have just disappeared?" he snarled, while chewing on the end of his cigar. Jonah had only moments earlier finished typing up his latest scathing editorial declaring the masked man a menace to the entire world. The reporter shuddered. "I don't have the slightest idea what could have happened, Mr. Jameson," he replied. "But that's the word going out all over the street. Nobody knows where he went; he just up and disappeared. I just thought you should know, sir." "What makes you think I didn't know that already?" snapped Jonah, knowing he must at all times keep his employees towing the line. After all, this was his newspaper. All of these people here worked for him. For J. Jonah Jameson, it was totally unacceptable for any people working for him to think they knew something he didn't. "I'm sorry, sir. I just assumed you didn't know, Mr. Jameson," replied the reporter nervously. "Keeping you up to date on these things is one of the reasons I'm on your payroll, sir." "If that's the case, I'm probably paying you way too much," snarled Jonah. "Now get out of here and don't come sniveling back until you have some real news that I can use sell newspapers." "Yes, sir, Mr. Jameson." The reporter hustled out of the office. His latest encounter with the boss had fortunately turned out better than he might have hoped. At least he still had his job for which, even if it was working for that miserable old skinflint of a tyrant, he was thankful. The publisher rose from his chair and began pacing the floor. With each new turn he growled, "I knew it! I just knew it!" With that miserable wallcrawler suddenly gone missing, Jonah couldn't use his just completed editorial. In Jonah's mind, that would be a very bad move from a public relations standpoint. "Not only is this Spider-Man character a total menace, but he's clearly a masked coward as well." But J. Jonah Jameson hadn't got where he was without knowing a thing or two about how the public thought. And he was thoroughly convinced, the public would want to know how someone, who was clearly no where around, could possibly be any kind of menace. "I certainly wouldn't want to make that cowardly masked menace a martyr." By now, J. Jonah Jameson was on one of his patented rolls. It didn't make any difference to him that there was no one else in his office to hear what he had to say on the subject. "Clearly, this Spider-Man must have heard I was just about to expose him for the utter fraud he was. He knew he could never fight against me and hope to win. No one ever beats J. Jonah Jameson. That must be why he's run off to hide in the hills with his little spider tail hanging between his legs." Jonah paused for a moment. "We're much better off now that's he gone. How can anyone possibly trust someone who keeps his face hidden behind a mask?" And yet, even though this Spider-Man menace was apparently no longer an issue, Jonah decided he should hang on to his editorial for a while. Even if it were nothing more than a bunch of words on a piece of paper now, it was a good piece of work and he just might still need it later. One never knew. This little disappearing act might just be some insidious ploy on the part of that Spider-Man character to make him look bad. Nobody ever made J. Jonah Jameson look bad. Besides, you had to get up pretty early in the morning just to try and pull the wool over J. Jonah Jameson's eyes. There was weak knock on Jonah's office door. "Who's there?" he growled. He just hated being interrupted. And that made him wonder anew why he'd allowed Betty Brant to take the whole day off. The door cracked open just wide enough for the publisher to see another of his underachieving 'Bugle' reporters. "What do you want now, Foswell?" he bellowed. "Just wanted to let you know there's nothing new on the Flash Thompson disappearance, Mr. Jameson. The police seem to be more puzzled than normal." "Flash who?" snarled Jonah. "Flash Thompson," repeated the reporter. "He's that high school boy who disappeared a few days ago." "I remember reading about that. He's that missing football player from Midtown High," replied Jonah. "He's a pretty good athlete, but he's definitely not in the same league as my son John." Why were they all constantly bothering him with this piddly stuff when he had a newpaper to publish? "Keep working on it, Foswell. Let me know when you come up with something we can actually use." "Yes, sir, Mr. Jameson," replied the reporter as he shut the door. But once he sat back down in his chair, a strange thought crossed Jonah's mind. If this Spider-Man character and this Thompson boy had both been missing for a few days, then... No, that couldn't possibly be anything but mere coincidence. What could he have been thinking? There was simply no way that any dumb high school kid like this Flash Thompson could possibly be Spider-Man. *** Following her shower, Pamela Parker was feeling quite pleased with herself. It had been several days since she'd last heard anything out of Peter. Her wonderful evening with Flash had apparently been too much for his mind. She wasn't entirely convinced that any of his faint whimperings actually counted for anything. She was certain she'd heard the last from him. Very clearly, this body was all hers now. She'd also made a decision to resume the secret life of her now departed former male self. Doing that was simply in her best interests. Pamela had no fear of her secret being discovered by anyone. Unlike poor pathetic Peter, she could easily take care of herself. Even though Maxie Shiffman had sounded a little dubious when she'd talked to him over the phone, there were simply neither doubts nor reservations in Pamela's mind about her becoming the new and vastly improved Amazing Spider-Woman. She'd considered calling herself Spider-Girl, but had finally decided Spider-Woman would command more respect. Her secret life as an entertainer would also pay those nagging bills of which she and Aunt May had more than enough to go around. Best of all, all of it was very clearly in line with her destiny. On top of everything else, very soon now, she would no longer be alone in the world. Nor would she still remain in any way unique. As Pamela looked down at the hardened eggcase made of her webbing, she couldn't help but feel somewhat anxious about the life within it. This was still all so very new to her. However, it wasn't merely the idea of her becoming a mother for the first time that made her feel so nervous. There might still be a few problems later. She simply didn't know how much of her Flashy poo would still remain once their daughter was born. Flash Thompson had been alive - life was an absolute necessity for the process now taking place within the cocoon - when she'd deposited the ovum he'd fertilized during their lovemaking onto his bared flesh. Even then, she'd somehow known that the final hardening of the sac made of her webbing actually signaled a new beginning, not an end, for Flash Thompson. Within the eggcase, Flash and the ovum would fuse through an alternating cycle of divisions and absorptions into a single being. And once they were fused together as one, that new combination would undergo a slow and deliberate metamorphosis that was entirely dictated by her new genetic code. Even though Pamela had retained all of Peter Parker's useful skills and scientific knowledge, she had no clear idea what, if in fact any, knowledge Flash Thompson would pass on to their daughter. Flash certainly had been nothing like Peter. His skills had definitely been specialized in a totally different area. But she'd simply have to wait until her daughter finally hatched to find out what she was like. She really had no other choice in the matter. *** In the sky over the unsuspecting city, a new menace had appeared that had - at least for the moment - taken J. Jonah Jameson's mind off the suddenly vanished Spider-Man. No one knew just where or even when this new menace from the sky would strike next. No one could even hope to stand up against the strange silent attacks that came without warning from the sky above them. The Vulture had arrived on the scene. The Vulture was clearly making his presence felt across the wary city. "Help me! Somebody help me! It's the Vulture!" screamed the avian villain's latest victim. "He just swooped down on me from out of nowhere and stole my briefcase." The man was clearly shaken by his ordeal. "There's a fortune in negotiable bearer bonds inside. How did he know?" Even though most of the witnesses to the Vulture's latest crime had read all about him in the pages of the 'Daily Bugle', they were nevertheless still stunned and totally amazed by his actions. "I didn't really believe any of those wild stories I read about him in the 'Daily Bugle'," said one man at the scene. "I just thought Jameson made him up in order to sell newspapers. You know how he is. I was certain the Vulture didn't exist." "It's just impossible," stammered a pale young woman. "It can't be." "How can he possibly fly like that?" asked another man. "He's like a bird. There's no sound as he flies by. He seemingly makes no effort." "He's some kind of monster. That's what he is," said a visibly shaken woman. "He's more like some kind of wild gigantic bird of prey than a human being." "What's the world coming to? We're not safe at all any more." *** Pamela had seen a few of the stories in the 'Daily Bugle' about this mysterious Vulture. However, she'd only read the first few paragraphs before growing bored with the subject and putting the paper down. This Vulture did absolutely nothing to excite her. He was just some weird wanted criminal with wings; he definitely had nothing to do with her. She had a show to do tonight. Some of her new friends from school were going to be in the audience tonight. They'd wanted her to go with them, but she'd had to beg off. How could she possibly be in the audience when she had to be on the stage performing? Liz Allan and Sally Avril would also be there tonight. Even though they'd included her in their plans for the night for some reason, Pamela was convinced neither girl really liked her. Had they somehow connected her with Flash's disappearance? The two of them hadn't seemed overly upset when she'd declined their invitation. In any event, she had to make some money soon in order to help Aunt May make ends meet. They had so many bills to pay and so very little money with which to pay them. Even though Pamela didn't know why he'd come, this man in an expensive three-piece suit had already stopped by the house to see Aunt May. She'd seen his card on the table; he'd come from the bank. From her silence on the subject, Pamela surmised that man hadn't been a bearer of good news. *** Across town, in the plush executive offices of the Jameson Publishing Company, J. Jonah Jameson had a decidedly different take on the Vulture. "I want to devote the next issue of NOW Magazine to that new Vulture character," he told the managing editor. "He's big news right now! Everyone in this town wants to read all about him!" J. Jonah frowned as looked over the material he'd been given. "What's this? Is this the only photo we have of this Vulture? What's the matter with your men anyway? What am I paying you for?" The publisher began pacing around the room. "The public wants to see this character. Where are the photos?" "That's a big problem there, Jonah," replied the editor nervously. "Nobody I know has been able to get any pictures of him. He just shows up somewhere unannounced, commits his crime, and is gone again before anyone can get there to snap his picture." The editor took a long deep breath. "All we've got of him is this artist rendering based on witness descriptions." "It's not good enough and you know it. I want results, not excuses," snapped Jonah. "Go out and get me some real pictures of this Vulture character or I'll find myself another editor who will." "Yes, sir," replied the editor quietly. He knew there was no sense in arguing with J. Jonah Jameson when he was like this. "Shut the door behind you!" snapped Jonah. "Yes, sir," replied the editor as he exited his publisher's office and shut the down behind him. "What is it with all these fools?" snarled Jonah into the air. "With all the money I pay them, why do I always have to keep telling these dimwits how to do their jobs?" *** Pamela's first exhibition as the Amazing Spider-Woman was a fantastic success. It went off without the slightest hitch. With only a few relatively minor alterations, she'd worn the costume that Peter had left behind. Even though it still fit a little tightly in a couple of places, Pamela didn't really mind. The snug fit of her costume was very likely to turn into a few extra dollars at the box office. She'd shot webbing from her fingertips. Not that it bothered her, she was convinced the audience thought it was all some kind of trick. With remarkable ease she'd hung from the ceiling by her fingertips. Just as easily, she'd impossibly lifted that platform with the three rather large stoutly men - the audience had selected them from among themselves - standing on it. She'd also - to the utter amazement of the crowd - scaled up one of the walls of the set, scurried across the ceiling, and then scampered down the other wall. The audience was totally awed by her performance. Pamela was very pleased with herself. Clearly, she was a smash hit. And this was only just the beginning. It didn't bother her that several of the young men in the audience kept staring at her during her curtain call. She didn't really mind getting all that wonderful attention from men. Their obvious interest in her meant they'd probably be back again for another look more sooner than later. Perhaps it would be a wise move on her part to increase the number of shows she'd had Maxie schedule. She also thought that short interview she'd granted to the members of the press had gone over reasonably well. They'd all be back; they'd clearly wanted to know more about her than she'd been willing to reveal. Their stories would make her seem mysterious. They would also very likely increase attendance at her next few shows. Unfortunately for Pamela, a problem she'd never once considered popped up after the show. "I simply can't give you cash, Spider-Woman," smiled the auditorium's business manager as he leered at her. "I've got to give you a check. That's just standard procedure. You know how it is? I've got to have a record for tax purposes. How do you want me to make out the check? What name do you want on it?" "Name???" Pamela knew that was a problem. "I can't tell you my real name. No one must ever know my real name." How could she possibly explain being Spider-Woman to Aunt May? "Just make the check out to Spider-Woman. That should be more than sufficient." The business manager gave her a funny look. "You're the boss. I'll make it out to Spider-Woman." He filled in the name, signed the check, and handed it to Pamela. "There you go. I'm just afraid you're going to have a real hard time cashing it." "We'll see about that," replied Pamela. She didn't see any reason why she should have any problems cashing a simple check. She was also very pleased with the amount of the check she'd been given. The money she'd just earned would not only pay off a lot of outstanding bills, it would also leave a little left over. On top of that, there was going to be another check just like it after tomorrow night's scheduled show. Things were finally starting to look good for once. It was only later at the local bank that Spider-Woman discovered she had another problem. "I'd like to cash this check." The teller looked her over for several moments. "Do you have some form of identification, miss?" he finally asked. "What about my costume?" "You're wearing a mask." The teller gave her another strange look. "Don't be silly, miss. Any clown can come in here off the street wearing some kind of a costume and claim to be anyone," he said snidely. "I take it you don't have an account with us either. Do you have a Social Security card or even a Drivers License made out in the name Spider-Woman, miss?" "No, I don't have either." "Then, I'm very sorry, miss. I can't possibly cash any check without the proper and verifiable identification. That's bank policy, miss." He handed the check back to Pamela. "Next in line please." Pamela glared daggers at the teller as she snatched back the check. How could he do this to her? "Please step back from the window, miss," grinned the teller, who seemed to be enjoying torturing her. "I don't want to call security, miss, but I will if I must." "Yeah right," muttered Pamela. As she stormed out of the bank, she wondered what could be next. "Just what else could possibly go wrong?" she mumbled. *** At his hideout located just outside the town limits, Adrian Toomes read the latest edition of the 'Daily Bugle' with a great deal of interest. He found one item particularly intriguing. Sometime during the next week, the Park Avenue Jewelry Exchange would be moving several million dollars in diamonds to their new offices across town. This certainly seemed like the perfect invitation to the avian villain. He was also convinced they expected him to try something. Why else would they have put that article in the paper? Adrian had no doubts that it was clearly intended as some kind of trap for him. "They must think me totally stupid. I'll grab those gems in a way no one would ever suspect," he muttered to himself. "I'll show them who is stupid and who isn't. There's no one who'll ever be able to stop me from getting whatever I want." *** Having changed out of her Spider-Woman costume not long after she'd left the bank, Pamela was still fit to be tied just thinking about how that obnoxious little snot of a bank teller had refused to cash her check. There was nothing wrong with that check. She'd earned the money the check represented through hard work. That dumb fool should have just cashed it for her. "What did he mean by that crack 'any clown can come in here off the street wearing a costume'? I'm no clown," she groused. "Other than Peter, who doesn't really count anymore, I've never seen anyone else wearing a Spider-Woman costume like mine before." Suddenly, Pamela smiled. "I should have used my mesmerizing power on that fool. It would have been so easy. If I had, then that idiot would have bent over backward to cash my check or anything else I wanted him to do." However, after a few more moments of thought on the matter, Pamela realized that using her mesmerizing power on that self-serving bank teller might not have been that good of an idea. Sure, he would have cashed her check without any further complaint, but what would she have done about all those other people that had also been in the bank? She'd never used her power on more than one person at a time before and wasn't overly certain she could affect a large crowd. Changing everyone's mind on a one-on-one basis would have simply taken far too much time. "What was that?" she mumbled, as her body oddly tingled for several moments for no apparent reason. That had never happened before. However, a quick look about her revealed absolutely nothing. "It was almost like some kind of strange warning." With nothing anywhere near her, Pamela suddenly gazed skywards, but saw nothing other than some really large bird flying off in the distance. "Was that odd feeling a warning of some kind? But if it were, why would that lone bird have posed any threat to me?" As she continued walking home, she chanced across a small, almost hidden from sight, storefront that she'd never noticed being there before. She wasn't too surprised by that. After all, this was the first check she'd ever had to cash that any bank had refused to honor. Painted across the window of one of the smaller shops was the answer to all her problems. "CHECKS CASHED!" proclaimed the sign in large capital letters. "Excellent," mumbled Pamela. A moment later, she entered the shop intent on not leaving again until after they'd cashed her check. She was convinced there would be no problems this time. As far as she could tell, everything would work out just perfectly. She and the young man working behind the counter were the only visible occupants of the store. "Hello, miss," said the young man, who couldn't seem to take his eyes off her. "Can I help you with something?" he smiled. "I certainly hope so. I have this check I just have to cash," smiled Pamela as she took the check - she'd endorsed it as Spider-Woman back at the bank - from her purse and handed it to the young man. Since she'd already used her mesmerizing power to cloud the mind of the young man when she'd first entered - she certainly didn't want him recognizing her later - she wondered just how she appeared to him now. "Do you think that will pose any kind of problem?" "It shouldn't be a problem at all. That's why we're here, miss. We eliminate problems," smiled the young man. As he continued staring at her, Pamela knew the young man would do just anything she asked him to do. After looking at the front and the back of the check, he suddenly frowned. "This might be a small problem. Do you have any identification..." He shook his head for just a moment before continuing, "... Miss Jennings?" "Of course I do. I never go anywhere without it," smiled Pamela. She took the business card of Maxie Shiffman out of her purse and handed it calmly to the young man. A very simple thought twisted the young man's perception and made him see exactly what she wanted him to see. "You take a nice picture. Everything seems perfectly in order, Miss Jennings. I don't know why I thought there might have been a problem here." After filling out the papers with the information only he could see on Maxie's card, the young man counted out the money before handing it and Maxie's business card to Pamela. "Can I do anything else for you today, Miss Jennings?" He had one of those lost little puppy dog looks in his eyes. "I think you've done more than enough for me already today." "Are you sure of that, Emily?" asked the young man hesitantly. "I certainly hope you don't mind me calling you Emily?" "Of course not," replied Pamela with a widening smile. So that was the name he'd seen on Maxie's card. She wondered again how he saw her now. At the same time, Pamela simply couldn't picture herself as an Emily. "It's my name, silly. Why should I object to you calling me my name?" It was also the name he'd always associate with her and however she currently appeared to him. "Can I call you later then, Emily?" His voice sounded hopeful. "If you'd like," replied Pamela with a coy smile. "I have to go now, but my number's on one of those papers you just filled out." Pamela turned to leave, but couldn't resist taking one last little jab. "I hope you call me real soon." Once she'd left the shop, Pamela wondered why she'd done that to the poor youngster. She didn't even know his name. It was also very cruel of her. And after, he'd been so very helpful too. Why did she suddenly think she'd misused her power? How could that possibly be? She'd acted responsibly and only used her power to get what was rightfully hers. How could doing that be in any way wrong? It wasn't as if she was some kind of bogus criminal or something. She could have easily cleaned them out and no one would have ever known what she'd done. Besides, they'd get all that money back from the Auditorium's account once they turned the check in for collection. She wondered what the Auditorium's business manager would have to say when he discovered someone had actually cashed that check made out to Spider-Woman. But she didn't have time to worry about any of that right now. She hadn't really hurt anyone. She had helped herself and Aunt May. They now had plenty of money with which to pay all their bills. *** Finally arriving home, Pamela headed straight to her room. She wasn't the least bit surprised that the eggcase had split neatly in half. She'd had that feeling as soon as she'd entered the house. For the last day or so, she had been eagerly anticipating the "birth" of her daughter. However, still being rather new at this motherhood thing, Pamela hadn't known exactly when the blessed event might occur. Now that she had a little experience with the process, she'd have a much better idea the next time. Maybe next time, she'd be there waiting. But where was her daughter now? Pamela certainly hoped she hadn't wandered outside. In spite of having been Flash, she was still only a few hours old at most. Pamela wasn't totally sure her newly born daughter could survive the outside world alone... at least, just yet. Just then, the bathroom door swung open. The naked and well-endowed attractive young redhead standing in the doorway smiled at Pamela. "Hello, Mother," she said in a sultry voice. "I've been hoping you'd return home soon. There's something about being alone I just don't like." "You know who I am?" Pamela sounded surprised. "Why wouldn't I know who you are, Mother?" replied the striking young redhead. "I recognized you immediately. You're Pamela Parker. Would you prefer that I call you Mom instead of Mother? Or would you prefer something else... like Pammy or Pam? Although I was once your lover Flash Thompson. I'm just your little girl now. I'm Fawn Thompson." She cupped one of her large breasts with her small hand. "Although quite truthfully, I'm not really all that little, you know," she smiled. "Mom will do for now, I suppose," replied Pamela, who still sounded somewhat surprised. "How and where did you get the name Fawn?" "Do you like it, Mom?" asked the redhead anxiously. "Please say you do. I picked it out all by myself, since I was all alone when I hatched. I was a little confused at first; everything just seemed so strange. And you wouldn't believe just how much of a mess I was right after I hatched. I just had to get myself cleaned up before you came home. While I was taking my shower, it just came to me. Do you know how good taking a shower feels, Mom?" she asked. "Being in the shower made everything feel right. Once I thought of the name Fawn, I just knew it was absolutely perfect for me. I really think Fawn suits me ever so much better now than Flash ever would. Don't you agree, Mom?" "I suppose, I do. I doubt I could have picked out anything better," replied Pamela. At the same time she was concerned and more than a little curious about something her daughter had said. "Just what else do you know of Flash Thompson, Fawn?" "I know he was also my Daddy," replied Fawn with a wide grin. "And I also know he'll always be right here with me. He's an integral part of me now." Fawn casually brushed away the strands of red hair that had fallen across her green eyes. "I also know everything Daddy once knew, but nothing he knew seems overly useful to me." "What do you mean, Fawn?" "Isn't it obvious, Mom," replied the redhead. "I'm not going to be a football player; I don't really think I even like football all that much anymore." Fawn suddenly grinned widely. "On the other hand, I'm sure there are a lot of guys on the team that wouldn't mind tackling me now. And I certainly wouldn't mind if they kept tackling me over and over again either. That sounds so exciting." She put her hands on her hips. "I really don't know what I'll ever do with any of Daddy's old pick up lines. It's not as if I'd ever consider or even want to go around picking up other girls anyway. Given the choice, I'd certainly rather have good-looking hunky guys than some other girl." She suddenly dropped her hands to her side and looking questioningly at Pamela. "Do you think that liking guys makes me weird, Mom?" "Of course not, Fawn." Pamela went over and hugged her daughter. "I think you're perfectly normal." "Do you want to take a shower with me?" asked Fawn suddenly. "I'll bet it feels even better with two of us in the shower at the same time." "It just might." Pamela looked at the clock on the wall. "But I can't right now. Will you be all right here alone for a while? I have to leave in a few minutes; I have a show to perform." "A show? Can I go with you?" asked Fawn. "I'd sure like to watch you so I can learn more about what I can do." "Maybe next time, dear; there will be plenty of others. We need to get you settled in somewhere first," replied Pamela. "We don't want people asking any tough questions before we're ready to answer them." "Okay, Mom," smiled Fawn. "I'll just take another hour long shower and then go straight to bed. I am a little tired. Getting out of that cocoon sure took a lot more effort than I would have ever imagined." *** As Pamela, now garbed once again as her alter-ego Spider-Woman, headed for the Auditorium, she found herself silently wishing she didn't have to go there. Tonight, she would have preferred staying home and getting to know her new daughter better. Once she arrived at the Auditorium, Pamela was surprised to see her agent Maxie Shiffman talking with the hall's business manager. She didn't exactly know why, but she suddenly had this really bad feeling that something was wrong. "You might as well pack up and go back to wherever it is you come from, Spider-Woman," said Maxie sadly. "What do you mean?" asked the surprised Pamela. "Why?" "Quite simply, there isn't going to be a show here tonight," said the business manager. "There probably won't be one any other night in the foreseeable future either." "I don't understand." Pamela was perplexed as she looked back and forth between the two men. This abrupt change in her fortunes made no sense at all. She'd been such a big hit just last night; now her next exhibition was suddenly being canceled. "What happened?" "I'm afraid this happened," answered Maxie. He held out a copy of the 'Daily Bugle' to Pamela. "SPIDER-WOMAN MENACE!" screamed the headline that covered half the front page. Pamela simply couldn't believe her eyes. "Menace? I'm no menace. I'm just a girl trying to make a little money." "That headline is bad enough, but take a look at the editorial," said Maxie. "I don't know what bee got under his bonnet, but J. Jonah Jameson and his 'Daily Bugle' have the public so steamed right now that they'll probably toss you in the slammer on sight and throw away the key." "But why me?" asked the puzzled Pamela. "I don't understand. What have I ever done to him? I don't even know Mr. Jameson. What have they got against me?" She also wondered how she would ever explain being in jail to Aunt May. "I have no idea what his problem might be, Spider-Woman," said the business manager. "J. Jonah Jameson can be a real space case sometimes. All I can tell you with certainty right now is you won't be performing here tonight." "I'll keep in touch then," said Pamela. "You know, in case something changes." But somehow she just knew her days as an entertainer were through. 'What am I going to do for money now?' thought Pamela as she headed for home several hours earlier than she'd been expecting. Perhaps Fawn would still be awake when she got home. They still had a few things to discuss. They also had plans that needed making. *** Adrian Toomes knew the diamond shipment had to be a totally bogus setup. There was simply no other reason for the Jewelry Exchange to publish the date that their gems would be moved. It was tempting fate, not to mention the Vulture. Clearly, they wanted him to try and snatch those diamonds they were moving. There would likely be fewer diamonds of a significantly lesser value than they'd published. Those moronic fools figured on catching him in the act. Since the fools were apparently so eager for him to do so, he would snatch them. And he'd succeed so easily he'd make their simple minds swim. But first, he had to let all of them know just what he had planned. That would make things far more interesting as well as a lot more fun. He'd show them all that he could play these head games just as easily as they did. He'd gain a great deal of satisfaction in beating them all at their own perverse little game. The winged villain carefully wrote out three identical notes and then tied each to its own hefty rock. He'd like to see their faces when they read his note, but he knew that waiting around was an unwise move. Making certain he wasn't observed, the Vulture left the safety of his hidden aerie and flew toward the first site he'd selected to announce his intentions. He was thoroughly convinced no one would ever be able to stop him. No one was bright enough to ever capture him. No one would ever figure out how he could fly so effortlessly and without making any noise. The first note and rock went through a closed window of the Jameson Publishing Company. Even though it never took much effort, Adrian Toomes had always enjoyed making a fool of that pompous opinionated windbag J. Jonah Jameson. The rock carrying the second message crashed through the window of the local radio station. What better way could there be to quickly get his message across to so many people? The final rock and note was tossed though the window of the police chief. Adrian had always considered the man little more than another crook. The man had just sat behind his desk and done nothing while Gregory Bestman had stolen everything he'd ever owned. 'The poor pathetic fools,' thought Toomes as he delivered his last warning. He knew he would be long gone before any of them could even read the note that simply said, 'I shall steal the diamond shipment right out from under your noses' and was signed with rather bold strokes 'The Vulture'. J. Jonah Jameson - just as the Vulture had known he would - flew off the handle. "How dare that flying menace break one of my windows!" he screamed at everyone. "He'll pay for that window! I'll make sure he does." The radio station quickly sent reporters to the Park Avenue Jewelry Exchange for some comment they could put over the air. And if nothing else, the police chief was impressed with the Vulture's nerve. However, the head of security at the Jewelry Exchange wasn't the least bit impressed at all when he was finally informed of the Vulture's intent. "We must keep to our schedule and transfer the diamonds just as we've planned. We simply can't let the whole city think we can let one criminal make us change any of our plans." Besides, he was convinced their plan to capture this Vulture character would come off without a hitch. *** The next morning, Midtown High was abuzz with excitement. The missing Flash Thompson had been found. And, even though he wasn't coming back to Midtown High any time real soon, he was apparently all right. Some time during the night, Flash's girl cousin Fawn Thompson had arrived from somewhere in the Midwest. She'd told Flash's parents that their son had dropped by to see her on his way to California. He'd wanted her to call them so they'd know he was all right, but she'd decided to come in person herself instead of simply making an impersonal call. Apparently, Flash had signed some kind of professional contract and was on his way out to California to play football. Flash's parents had been relieved at the news. As soon as Fawn had told them her story, Harrison Thompson had called the local police to let them know their missing son had been located. Following a swift investigation into this new set of circumstances, the police closed the case. The investigating officers wrote in their report that they had talked with Flash on the phone for several minutes. But there wasn't much they could really do now since Flash was eighteen. Even with his cousin's help, a few of his closest cronies wondered how the police could have found Flash so quickly when they hadn't had a single clue to his whereabouts before. But any and all talk of some kind of weird crazy conspiracy died quickly. The reason for that was a very simple one. Flash's parents had asked Fawn to stay with them for a while. And Fawn Thompson had decided she would - at least through the end of the school year. Even as much as his buddies might miss Flash, he was gone and was unlikely to be coming back. His busty redheaded cousin was a better than adequate replacement. Had he been there, they were all sure that Flash would have totally agreed with them. On the other hand, the girls, especially Liz Allan and Sally Avril, weren't overly thrilled with Fawn Thompson's decision to stay around. They easily recognized the pretty girl as stiff new competition. And it certainly did little to lessen their suspicions that Fawn seemed so chummy with that other new girl Pamela Parker. Of course, the girls would have been even more suspicious of the new girls if they'd known that Pamela and Fawn had visited the Thompson's together the previous night. But that little detail was something the Thompson's no longer remembered. Nor would Liz and Sally have been too happy finding out those police officers that had reportedly spoken with Flash on the phone had never actually talked to him at all. However, those officers believed they had; they would have sworn on a large stack of Bibles they had. When Fawn left for her next class, at least a half dozen boys followed close behind her. It was a fact not missed by either Sally or Liz. Nor did Pamela miss it. For totally different reasons, all those boys following her daughter worried her. Not that it was too much of a stretch - the boys were friends of Flash after all - Pamela was convinced she knew exactly what they had on their minds. Before she could head for her own class, Pamela overheard a very interesting conversation that centered on the latest edition of NOW Magazine. "It's just some stupid drawing of him," said Tommy Watkins in disappointment. "I sure would like to see some close-up photos of that Vulture." Liz Allan smiled at Tommy. It was clear to just about everyone that Liz had been noticing Tommy more and more in the days since Flash had first disappeared. She certainly wasn't happy about the way Flash had just run off to California and hadn't even bothered to tell her where he was going. After all, he'd long considered himself her boyfriend. What a joke that was? She'd also seen him checking out at that Parker bitch several times. "A photo of that Vulture would be worth a small fortune, Tommy," said Liz casually. "But I just can't see how anyone could possibly get close enough to snap one of him." Pamela began smiling. That was a fantastic idea. She'd never thought of taking pictures for money before. 'Magazines pay really big bucks for hard to get pictures,' thought Pamela. 'With my special spider abilities, I should be able to get plenty of interesting pictures.' She looked over towards Tommy. "Could I see your magazine for a minute, Tommy?" she smiled. Liz glared at Pamela. "Sure thing, Pam," replied Tommy with a smile, as he handed her his magazine. 'J. Jonah Jameson publishes this magazine,' thought Pamela as she looked at the credits page. That worried her somewhat. On the other hand, selling pictures to someone like him just seemed somehow more than appropriate, since he'd been the one that had screwed up her job as an entertainer. She just couldn't keep from smiling as she pictured old J. Jonah Jameson shelling out money for photographs that were taken by Spider-Woman. "Thanks for letting me look at your magazine, Tommy." Pamela smiled at Tommy again - even as Liz once more glared at her - as she handed his magazine back. *** Having previously decided that the now missing Spider-Man was a menace to the public, it hadn't taken much effort for J. Jonah Jameson to decide this new Spider-Woman must be one as well. Aside from their gender, they weren't really any different. They both wore masks that hid their faces. Their costumes were so similar they had to know each other. It was a simple case of birds of a feather flocking together. He was glad now that he'd had the foresight not to destroy his original editorial decrying the Spider-Man menace. He almost couldn't believe his good fortune when his reporter had come back from this Spider-Woman's exhibition. It had only taken a minimal effort on his part to revise Spider-Man into Spider-Woman and turn he's and him's into she's and her's. He'd been able to get his word out onto the street the next day, which wouldn't have been possible had he had to write a new editorial from scratch. But one editorial simply wasn't going to be enough. J. Jonah Jameson knew this Spider-Woman was dangerous and had to be stopped immediately. And he knew he was just the man to stop her. He'd do whatever it took to save the world from this terrible new menace. *** Once their school day had finally ended - she had been worried it might just continue on and on forever - Pamela was eager to see just how well Fawn had adjusted to her new life. She was - and at the same time she wasn't - surprised as her daughter joined her out by the front gate. Now crowding around Fawn were at least a dozen students - all of them male, of course. She very definitely was enjoying all the attention being paid her. It must have been something she'd inherited from Flash, who had always enjoyed being at the center of attention. It was also abundantly clear that she had adjusted to her new life more than just reasonably well. "Hi, M... Pam," said Fawn. She'd almost forgotten to call her mother Pam as they'd agreed upon last night. She hoped none of the others around had overheard her. No one could have possibly understood how a girl not that much older than her could be her mother. None of them, however, seemed to notice the almost gaffe. "Guys, this is my good friend Pam Parker. Pam, these are the guys." "Hello, Pam," chorused the boys of Fawn's new entourage. Pamela gave every boy in the group a good looking over before smiling at her daughter. "I can see you've had an interesting first day of school, Fawn." "You don't know the half of it, Pam," replied Dawn. "I'll have to tell you all about it on our way home." She turned to her new group of companions. "I'll see you guys later on," she told them with a broad smile. "I have to go home now." "Do you really have to go home?" chorused the boys as if one. They all sounded disappointed. "I certainly do. I also need a little to talk to Pam for a while... alone," said Fawn. "I'm sure you boys can find a few other things you can do for a while." "Yes, for you we can find other things to do," chorused the boys. "We'll see you right here tomorrow morning, Fawn." The crowd of milling boys shook their heads en masse and then wordlessly dispersed in all possible directions. "You really shouldn't use your mesmerizing power on them that way, Fawn," said Pamela as they walked in the direction of the Thompson house. "We don't need people getting suspicious or thinking we're different. We've already got that pompous twerp J. Jonah Jameson to worry about." Fawn took a quick look around. "That's just it, Mom. I didn't use my mesmerizing power on them at all," she replied. "All I did was smile at one of them and then they all sort of fell right into the same line after that. They all wanted to do things for me. It was all just so weird and confusing." "You'll get used to it," smiled Pamela. "That's just the way most boys are around pretty girls." Fawn blushed. "They're just acting plain silly if you ask me. What is there to gain? I'm no where even close to the start of my mating cycle," replied Fawn. "Was I like them before?" she asked, suddenly turning thoughtful. "I certainly hope not." "No, you weren't like them, dear," smiled Pamela. "Flash was even worse than any of them." "If that's the case, then I'm glad I'm me now and no longer Daddy," replied Fawn. "I would definitely never want to be some silly boy again." "I know just what you mean." The girls heartily laughed as they continued on their way towards the Thompson house. *** J. Jonah Jameson wasn't content merely writing editorials that warned the city and the whole world of the terrible menace he considered this Spider-Woman to be. As much as he hated to admit the fact, even to himself, not everyone in the city read the 'Daily Bugle'. Most of his regular readers would very likely require more proof than just a few printed words before they'd consider this Spider-Woman the menace he already knew she was. While Pamela and Fawn had been in school oblivious to whatever the magazine publisher had planned, J. Jonah Jameson had been out in public lecturing to anyone and everyone who would listen, as well as those who wouldn't. His message had been very clear. Not only was his message clear, it had also been very, very loud. He was also thoroughly pleased with himself when he saw that the crew from the local television station was taping his every word. *** When Pamela arrived home, she hoped Fawn would be all right staying with the Thompson's. There was no real reason for her to expect anything might go wrong. Even though they were Flash's parents, Harrison and Rosie Thompson were still good people. It hadn't taken that much of an effort to get them to accept Fawn as their niece. Pamela would have liked it better if her daughter could have stayed here with her and Aunt May, but that simply wasn't overly practical. Quite simply, there wasn't that much money - something Pamela hoped to fix real soon - to add another mouth to feed and a body to dress. Even though Pamela knew Fawn would be just fine at the Thompson's, she also knew she'd continue worrying about her. After all, in spite of the fact she'd been Flash up until about a week ago, Fawn was her daughter now. "Hi, Aunt May," said Pamela as she entered the living room. "Hello, Pamela dear," smiled her Aunt, as she looked up from the television newscast. "Did you have a nice day at school?" "So, so, I guess. I would have been home earlier but I walked home with Fawn Thompson." "Fawn Thompson? Is she related to that horrible Flash Thompson boy?" asked May. "She's his cousin from somewhere in the Midwest. Today was her first day at Midtown High." "I heard on the news earlier that they found that terribly ungrateful boy out in California somewhere. He went out there to play football or something foolish like that," snapped May. "How could that boy possibly do something that worried his parents so much? How could he just leave like he did and not even tell them where he was going." May suddenly smiled and wrapped her arms tightly around Pamela. "I'm so glad you'd never do something as horrible as that nasty boy, Pamela dear." "Why would I?" asked Pamela. "Do you know if Uncle Ben had a small camera, Aunt May?" "I think so, dear." Aunt May got up from the couch and went to the small closet in the hall. After looking for a few minutes, she turned back to her niece. "Here it is, Pamela. I was sure it was in there. This miniature camera was Ben's. I'd almost forgotten about it until you reminded me about it." She handed the small camera to Pamela. "I'm sure he would have wanted you to have this, dear." "Thank you, Aunt May," replied Pamela. "I'm sure he would have wanted that too." The suggestions she'd made to Aunt May earlier were clearly working. Unless someone specifically asked about him, Aunt May would no longer think about her former male self Peter. "This is just perfect, Aunt May." She gave her elderly aunt a quick little peck on the forehead. "I'm sure this little gadget is going to be a great help to us when it comes to paying our bills." Aunt May gave her niece a puzzled look. She didn't have any idea how a simple camera could help them pay even one of their many bills. On her way to her room, the image on the television caused Pamela to stop in front of it. Although she wished he hadn't, she recognized J. Jonah Jameson immediately and wondered why he was on television. "Innocent children may try to imitate her fantastic feats. Just think what might happen if those same young and impressionable children try making a heroine out of this lawless inhuman monster. We must never permit that to happen! "It is my opinion that this Spider-Woman person must be outlawed. She's highly dangerous and should be arrested immediately. There is no place for such a dangerous creature here in our fair city." Inhumam monster? Dangerous creature? Pamela stared in stunned disbelief at the television. How could that man say something so mean and hateful about her? She'd never even met the man. "What is that man's problem?" she muttered. "He's just looking out for us, dear," replied Aunt May. "Someone has to, you know. There's just something about that Spider-Woman person I don't trust." Pamela couldn't believe what she'd just heard. Even though she didn't know Pamela was also Spider-Woman, how could Aunt May possibly believe she was in any way dangerous? That man was nothing but a troublemaking nuisance. However, if J. Jonah Jameson had turned her own aunt against her, then how many other people had also been swayed by all his lies and his innuendo. "I'll be in my room, Aunt May." May Parker once again looked puzzled while watching her niece storm off to her room. "I wonder if it was something I said," mumbled May. *** Once alone in her room, Pamela swiftly looked over the camera. Not only was it small and compact, it also appeared to be exceptionally easy to operate. Only a few settings controlled everything. If everything went well she'd have to figure out some way of carrying the small camera around in her costume. "All I have to do is go outside and test this new equipment." A few minutes later, Pamela stood atop a nearby apartment complex. She was convinced it would be the perfect place - there was no one around to disturb her - to test out the camera. While making adjustments to the camera settings, Pamela began feeling that odd tingly sensation she'd felt before. 'Maybe this is just some kind of spider early warning sense,' she thought, as she considered how often spiders seemed to know whenever any danger was near. 'That would very definitely come in very handy.' But if it were some sort of a 'warning sense', then just what was it warning her about? There was nothing on the roof that posed any real danger to her. However, as she looked skyward, she saw that big bird she'd seen earlier flying off in the distance. It was also getting bigger as it closed the distance between them. There was something else wrong with that bird. For one, it wasn't a bird. Nor was it a small plane. As whatever it was flew increasingly nearer to her position, the thing simply made no discernible sounds at all. Finally, the unrecognized object came close enough for Pamela to make a positive identification. It was the Vulture. She'd recognized him from the drawing she'd seen in NOW Magazine. "What luck?" mumbled Pamela, as she snapped a couple of quick shots of the flying villain. "A few more photos of the Vulture should net me a small fortune." Making a few more adjustments to the camera settings, she decided on following the Vulture in hopes of getting those few additional pictures. However, Pamela was still very new to the stealth required of her new occupation. Without even thinking about what she was doing, Pamela kicked a small stone in her eagerness to get nearer. 'A sound!' thought the Vulture. 'Someone is on that roof behind me watching my every move. I've got to move quickly, as only the Vulture is able.' Having finally adjusted the camera - even though simple to operate, she'd have to get even more familiar with its operation - Pamela looked up to find the Vulture had vanished without a trace. At the same time, her new spider warning sense was sending more than just a mere tingling throughout her body. Caught totally off guard as the Vulture slammed into her from behind, Pamela dropped her camera and fell stunned and dazed to the rooftop. "That was far too easy," said the Vulture as he landed beside the fallen Spider-Woman. "I was never in any real danger. It's just some dumb girl dressed up in a weird costume." Adrian Toomes smiled as he picked the girl up. "It's too bad I'm not fifty years younger, good looking. If circumstances were different, I wouldn't mind getting to know you a whole lot better. But right now, you're a complication I just can't afford." With incredible ease, the Vulture carried the dazed girl towards a nearby water tower. After opening the hatch at the top of the tower, the Vulture dropped Spider-Woman into the opening. "Don't you worry, girl," he called down to Pamela. "They'll find you," he added as he closed the hatch. "At least they will, sooner or later." With that, the Vulture spread his wings and flew silently away leaving the costumed girl to her fate. For just a moment, he felt bad about leaving the girl and wondered who she might have been. But all of that was unimportant now. And whatever remorse he might have felt quickly passed. That stupid costumed girl should have never been there spying on him in the first place. In the meantime, being unceremoniously dumped into the cold water in the tank kicked Spider-Woman's adrenaline production into high gear. Suddenly jolted into full consciousness, she was confused about her whereabouts. Somehow - it was all kind of hazy - the Vulture had trapped her inside this tank. She realized that she'd been careless. It could have got her killed. As far as she was concerned, that would never happen again. And she was also determined to get even with the Vulture. Even if no one had seen them, he'd thoroughly embarrassed her. That was just plain unacceptable. Before she could begin considering ways of getting even with the Vulture, she first had to get out of this water tank. With far more ease than her enemy would have imagined, Pamela shot her webbing to the top of the tank. And with an equal ease, she climbed up the strands of her webbing and escaped through the hatch. "I'll bet that foul avian fiend will be surprised to see me again," she grinned. However, the Vulture was long gone. That was all right with Pamela. It would give her some time to try and figure out how the Vulture flew so swiftly and effortlessly without making a sound. It would also give her some time to develop the pictures she'd taken of the Vulture. Once back atop the apartment complex where she'd first seen the Vulture, only a few seconds passed before Pamela found her camera. "It's still in one piece," she smiled at her good fortune. "That's good news. I'd hate to lose out on a fortune before I could even make it." Having retrieved the camera, Pamela headed for home. *** At the Thompson house, Fawn suddenly felt much better. She didn't know why - she'd have to ask her mother what had happened the next time she saw her - but she'd had this really peculiar sense that her mother was in some kind of danger and needed help. But that strange funny feeling had passed almost as soon as it had begun. Whatever might have happened to her, it was all over now. Her mother was safe. That was all that was really important. *** Once she was home again, Pamela immediately developed the pictures she'd just taken. Even though she thought they could have been better, they'd still turned out reasonably well. She was wondering if she really wanted to sell them to J. Jonah Jameson and NOW Magazine. She didn't like the idea of helping out that old windbag. However, the more Pamela thought about selling the pictures to him, the more it seemed like poetic justice to have Jameson pay out for these photographs she'd taken. After all, the man hated her for no reason she could even imagine and he'd never met her. It would just be a real kick to make the pompous fool pay good money for her photos. She also fashioned a compartmented belt for her costume. She needed someplace to keep her miniature camera where it would be both safe and readily available. It also needed to be out of the way when she wasn't snapping pictures. Other things as needed could also be stored in the compartments of her new belt. She'd seen exactly what she needed in an old comic book that she - when she'd been younger and still Peter - had once read. She was pleased with how well her new belt looked. It hugged her hips and looked as if it belonged on her Spider-Woman costume. While Pamela had been busy with everything else, her mind had also come up with a logical explanation for the Vulture's noiseless flight. It was a really simple explanation. It was also the only thing that made any real sense. Over the next few hours, Pamela put a little gadget together that she hoped would help her deal with the Vulture. If it worked like she thought it would, the Vulture was in for a big surprise the next time they met. She was determined that the avian criminal would never embarrass her again. And yet, she wouldn't know whether or not her gadget actually worked until she encountered the Vulture again. Pamela suddenly yawned. She'd just put in a long, but very productive night and needed a little rest. Without wasting any effort, Pamela laid down on her bed. Within moments, she was fast asleep. *** "Excuse me, Mr. Jameson," said the secretary nervously as she entered his office. "What is it now, Miss Brant?" snapped Jonah. "I'm a very busy man, you know." "There's a Miss Pamela Parker on the phone, sir," replied Betty. "She wants to talk to you, sir. She said it's very urgent." "Pamela Parker? I don't know any Pamela Parker, Miss Brant," snarled Jonah. "Tell her I'm a busy man. Tell her I don't need anything she's selling and then hang up on her. I don't know why you're wasting my time with this nonsense, Miss Brant. Just what am