The Adventures of Doctor Abby Normal, The Basement Diaries

Steve the Symbiote, Part 3

"There is a small complication in our negotiations," said Liz Allen. "Outside interests that had influence that we were not aware of have a vested interest and are demanding a share and seats on the board."

"Who?"

"Who else is known for making Spiderman villlians?"

"Fisk can't have a monopoly on the market," said Harry. But he was very scary and had several.

"What about his crusade against vigilantism?"

"What about his bank account?" Liz's phone rang. "Hello....what?!?"

In Little Macedonia...

"There have to be security..."

"Is this what she looks like?"

"It is."

"Are the horns and tail normal?"

"No, I added that." Steve thought so but understood, Janet had many memories. "There has to be a security system." Janet jiggled the door. "Is it just a key?"

"I volunteer!"

"Slip under the door first."

"Good idea." Steve unbonded himself. "No traps."

"There must be a more important room." Steve opened the door.

"Welcome home!"

"This is it?" Janet had never bene inside the place before, it looked...normal.

"I'll do a sweep."

"Do you just get one of those for moving here?" Asked Hawkeye, if so, what a deal!

"What was that?"

Meanwhile Nextdoor...

"Were you in anything, did-"

"The Avengers, I'm in that." Kevin pretended to not be up to date on information to not arouse the suspicion of people who might arrest him.

"Doesn't Doctor Doom have one of these too?"

"Yes," said Kevin, "there's one in Little Latveria."

"I thought that one was torn down," said Hawkeye.

"The big one in Little Latveria is still up."

"Why?"

"They decorate it for pride, also, just in case."

The secret was out, Little Macedonia wasn't a bad place to live, the rent was reasonable, crime was low, there was a sense of community, also Hawkeye had forgotten the name of his last girlfriend mid-sex and gotten kicked out. She had also taken his phone so...

The Ghost of Benjamin Franklin, and of Esma, had seen nothing like it in their entire lives. Their little corner of New York, which was next to Little Dominican Republic, in between Little Senegal and Little India, a few blocks north of Flushing, South of Little Guyana, walkable from Little Poland, west of Little Ireland, north of Brighton Beach, a stones throw away from Korea Town, somewhere over the rainbow from Little Greece, aware of the existence of Little Colombia, Weast of Little Puerto Rico, Sorth of Coney Island and Little Pakistan, a jog away from Brooklyn, you could high five someone in the Little West Indies, not on Staten Island, touching Little Tibet, and a well-aimed stick, thrown from where Little Italy and China Town met, landed not far away from Little Manila, but not that far away from Broadway, and away from the hustle and bustle, you could walk to Central Park and comfortably run to the Statue of Liberty, which is impossible from Little Sri Lanka, in a place, was growing more and more every day.