She looked up into the eyes of the facinating, exciting Wilson Fisk, and Mary Jane Watson-Parker couldn't help but be attracted to his power, self-confidence and sheer strength. Her husband, Peter...she loved him, but...he didn't understand just how afraid she was. Always dreading the news that he'd been killed or criticly injured fighting some costumed lunatic. She spoke with the masterful gentleman about her fears for her husband, and he spoke of his wife...lost to him now. She felt his grief, and his desire to be with her again...and felt things about them sort of...flowing together. He was like her, in a way...and she....so much like him...
Jem and Gam carried the struggling form of Spider-man between them, chuckling at how helpless he was. The last thing they expected was a huge, silent form sliding from the shadows. They were titans of Hulk-like power, but a quick, silent movment...a sudden grip of simple pressure points...and though the massive person couldn't have killed them, both Gam and Jem slid quietly into unconsiousness.
Peter shook his head, and smelled the cloying threads of Mary Janes perfume. He muttered "M-mary...jane..." and the massive form lifted him up. He smelled something else...cigarette smoke? The hands were huge and strong. Thick and powerful, yet gentle with him. A deep, feminine voice rumbled in his ear "Shhh, Peter. Quiet...we must talk...but only once you've had the chance to recover...my poor, sweet husband. My beloved Peter."
That made him a little afraid, because though the voice seemed like Mary Janes...it also seemed like...something else. Something familiar, yet also frightening.
He was laid upon a bed, his hand held and squeezed, and he opened his eyes...and gaped in shock. His mask was off, and before him...
Somehow...she was Mary Jane. Her face was just the same, her smile happy at his recovery and her eyes dancing with joy. But...
She was...gigantic. 6'7" in she was an inche, her rotund and solid 600+lb body more thickly packed muscle than fat. Her hands...her shoulders, her belly...she was a gigantic, sumo-sized version of herself, but...her dark red hair was now worn in a fashionable-looking updo, and set with a jeweled pin. She wore no dress, but a fetchingly tailored white Dolce & Gabbana suit with dark purple cravat tie, set with a diamond stickpin, a jewel-headed cain held in one huge, manicured hand.
"Mary...Jane?"
The massive woman laughed, rich and rolling, and pinched his cheek. "Suich a darling nickname, Peter. Still...I'd break the neck of any other man that called me such. To think that the grand and imposing Marion Janet Fisk would ever be called 'Mary Jane' is so amusing. You're lucky that I love you, Peter. Love you. Yes..." she drew him close, rocking him in her gigants arms, pressing his head against her bosoms, and soothing him like a child. "...I do love you, Peter. So much, that it hurts. I think of all the times we fought in the old days, untill we realized that our fighting was simply a dodge to avoid the truth...the real truth about us...that we were in love."
"Love? Mary Jane...I mean...Marion Janet, I know I love you, but..."
"Yes, dear boy. Tell the Queenpin all about it."
Marion Janet Fisk. The Queenpin. His wife. His beloved wife. He remembered when he'd first pattled the strange, confident woman, and of how she'd stepped out of the shadows, long cigarette holder held daintily in one massve hand, and said "Face it, you puny,arachnid...you've hit the jackpot!"
He could remember the scene so clearly. Of how he battled the massive, criminal mastermind...of the heartbreak of losing Gwen, and how Marion Janet had come to him, conforted him. That night...well, it had become more difficult to oppose her after he and she'd been together. The relief after she seemingly gave up her criminal ways to be with him, but the skyrocketing crime rate afterward showed him that she'd been a needed organizing force. Of telling her that he could love her no matter what, and how he'd even helped her defeat her rivals, till all of New York danced at her command. Hammerhead, Silvermane, the Neferias, the Owl...all found their masters under her, and all served as underbosses in her greater family. Then...Marion Janet Fisk and he were married, and the Fisks (he'd taken her last name, hadn't he?) had a child. A little girl. By this time, his Aunt May met and married...Adrian Toomes? Yes, that was it, and now two Vultures flew about New York. Marion Janet hired them as enforcers, and Adrian and May Toomes (or Vulture and Harpy) broke heads for his wife.
Would...May do that?
Yes. She'd always had a hidden dangerious side, and exposure to the unique electro-magnatic harness of the Vulture had made her strong, fast...and violent. Yes, his Aunt May Toomes was now the violent, villianous Harpy...and he was fine with that. His time with Marion Janet Fisk had shown him that morality was a personal choice, and that the world that had always vilified him as Spider-man was a broken machine...and that it NEEDED a woman like Marion Janet Fisk - The Queenpin - to direct it. The birth of their little daughter Mayvis Marion Fisk centered him, and he abandoned his heroic, costumed identity. Now...
Peter Fisk smiled up at his massive, sexy wife. In his arms, he held their daughter. Though only a child, it was obvious that she would take after her mother. May was a solid, chunky little toddler, with Peters bright, happy eyes. He sat up, kissed his wife, and followed her out into the party. He took her arm, chatted lightly with those who spoke to him, but most of the time...he simply gazed at his wife and child. He was so happy. So very happy.