Heisenberg said that the act of observing an event changes it’s outcome. If that is true then what of Uatu, the Watcher? For he has observed mankind in all earth’s limitless multiversal iterations for countless eons.
Today he blinked.
MJ reached into her purse, and fingered her spider tracer. Peter had given it to her to summon him in the direst of emergencies. She felt one of those dire emergencies coming on. She breathed a sigh of relief knowing it was there.
Thinking she might be reaching for a can of mace, or a stun gun, the man next to her reached up and fingered his shoulder holster. He breathed a sigh of relief knowing he could shoot her.
The night had started so well. The first stage performance of her new play had been a huge success. The audience loved her. Apparently they loved her too much. After the show, one of the theaters main contributors told, the director that he wanted
to meet the star performer. That’s what the director told MJ. What he actually said was “Have the red head sent to my bedroom.”
Now she was been escorted by two douche bags who wore sun glasses at night to meet a man her husband new all too well.
They took her to a posh penthouse. Making the room look smaller, Wilson Fisk stood in a smoking jacket; a cigar in one hand and a brandy snifter in the other. He put down his brandy and extended a hand.
She barely meant to shake hands, but Fisk kissed her petite fingers saying something in french, and calling her Mademoiselle.
Suddenly MJ was gripped in terror. She became as a puff of smoke, so that Fisk breathed her in with his kiss. The two became one.
She drank from her brandy snifter then too another drag of her cigarette and threw the butt into the glass.
Mercedes Josette Fisk, MJ as her thugs called her, walked up to the full length mirror of her penthouse appartment. She was a big woman, not obese as Wilson Fisk had been, but hardly a supermodel. Though she did have more belly and wider thighs than
she liked most of the fat was situated in her chest and buttocks.
She wore and expensive negligee. If you could believe that this was her normal bed wear, that believe was challenged by the amount of make-up and jewelry she had on.
“Is he on his way?” MJ asked.
“Our lookouts spotted the Spider at three checkpoints. He’ll be here any minute.”
“Lovely,” she cooed.
“Should me send more security.”
“No, the medical bills are getting pricey. Let me handle Spider-Man”