The Spectacular Spider-Man (2008–2009): Season 1, Episode 4 - Market Forces - full transcript

Spiderman walks right into a trap set by gangsters intending to eliminate him or just keep him busy, so they start over, led by the seismic monster Shocker. That escapade also ruined the first check he finally earned for his self-pictures for the Bugle, needed to pay aunt's backward domestic bills. That leaves no time to help his only class friend, Harry Osborne; his dad has no sympathy and agrees to supply the 'super-monsters'.

Don't like this.
Something's going down.

Tri Corp Dispatch,
this is Transport 23.

Tri Corp, do you read?

There you go, Hammerhead.

- Job done.
- Forget the hat.

Put on the suit.

You still owe the Big Man...

...one friendly
neighborhood Spider-Man.

Peter, dear, are you up?
Come on, Mr. Lazy-Bones.

- Aunt May, I'm not decent.
- All right, calm down.

There's breakfast waiting downstairs.
I'll be at Mrs. Watson's.



Waffles.

Bills. Gas, phone, electric.
All past due.

Oh, good, you're up.

I've just been visiting with Anna
and her niece, Mary Jane.

A lovely girl.
Peter, you must meet her.

- What's she like?
- She has a wonderful personality.

She's there.
Why don't we head over--?

I'd love to, Aunt May.

But I promised Harry
I'd help him study...

...and I can't miss the bus. Bye.

- I so have to get me some hands-free.
- What?

Nothing, bro.
Just trying to do too much at once.

Like selling pictures to the Bugle
instead of helping your friends?

Look, straight up, I blew it.
And I know you're ticked--



Don't go all emo on me, bro.
I'll get over it.

- Just back off for a while.
- Got it. And thanks.

Target spotted.

And target lost.
But he's in the area, boss.

Peter. Good to see you.
Here to help Harry, huh?

We help each other, Mr. O.

Now, now, Peter,
modesty doesn't become men like us.

Smart, driven,
responsible, self-made.

- I'm more of a work in progress.
- At least you're making progress.

Mind if I check my e-mail?

An Evite
to Midtown High's fall formal?

Which would rock if either of us had--
What's the word?

A "date"?

Could probably ask
Mary Jane Watson.

Mary who-what-now?

Oh, this girl
Aunt May wants me to meet.

Get this,
she has a wonderful personality.

I was thinking about asking Gwen.

- Just as a friend, you know.
- Well, actually, I wouldn't know.

Miss Stacy's currently
not speaking to me.

"From the desk
of J. Jonah Jameson"?

Whoa, publisher of the Daily Bugle.

"Mr. Parker, come in ASAP...

...to claim paycheck
for photos of Spider-Man."

Yes!

Dude, sorry. I'll be back in an hour.
Two tops, promise.

Wait.
What do I do while you're gone?

Chapters one through six. Review.

Did a caveman proofread this piece?
Where's my sports editor?

I want him in my office in 14 seconds.
And where's my coffee?

- Sir? I'm Peter--
- I know who you are.

You're the know-nothing
who wasted 41 seconds of my time.

Well, I haven't got
another 41 to spare.

- But-- But--
- Brilliant comeback, kid.

Now, where's that Parker guy?
I e-mailed him 76 minutes ago.

Won't anybody get me my coffee?

Coffee, decaf.
It's only been 20 minutes.

And I'm pretty sure
you just kicked Peter Parker out.

Well, don't just stand there,
get him back.

Oh, that wasn't too humiliating.
Wait. My money.

Sorry about that, Parker.

Was expecting someone old enough
to have, you know, armpit hair.

Now, that costumed freak
sells papers.

I want another set of pics
in my hands by deadline.

- You got two hours.
- I'll do my best, but--

You still here? What do you want,
a medal? Get out! Out!

I'll cut that check for you, Peter.

- Thanks, Miss Brant.
- I'm Betty.

So, Betty, how do you work
for a walking embolism like Jameson?

Mr. Jameson's a decent man
down deep.

We talking Marianas Trench deep,
or Dante's ninth circle deep?

See you soon, Peter Parker.

He's back. Set it in motion.

Talk about a crook with bad timing.

Great, he's on us. Now, not too fast.
If he loses us, no payday.

Oh, forget the payday.
I want payback.

Two hours till deadline? No sweat.

Don't want anything
to happen to this.

Marko? How many times
do I have to take you down?

And where's
your charming partner, O'Hirn?

Look, we gotta stop meeting like this.
People are starting to talk.

Mostly about what doofs you are.

I reckon that came
as a bit of a shocker, eh, bug?

Well, good. So will this.

Hold still, son,
so I can put you out of your misery.

How about you put me out
of my mystery? Who are you?

Call me--
Well, how's about "Shocker"?

Or how's about "Toast"?

Either you got less kick
than a three-legged mule...

...or this here suit does more
than protect me from my own power.

I guess clothes do make the man.

- Did I get him? Tell me I got him.
- All you got is on my nerves.

Now, stay out of this, boy.
The grown-ups were talking.

Don't be too mad at O'Hirn.
He just gets cranky without his n--

Impressive. You could
hire yourself out as a kiddie ride.

Thanks.

But I already got a job I love.

That should satisfy the Big Man.
Extraction.

- Hey, a little help?
- I ought to leave you for the cops.

But I'm in too good a mood.

- Did I get him? Is he roadkill?
- He's finito. Let's book.

Talk about your tight spots.
But I'm alive.

And I reek.

And my paycheck's ruined. Perfect.

- Harry, I'm sorry.
- Sorry? You totally left me hanging.

I know you can do calc
in your sleep...

...but I've got a lot riding
on tomorrow's test.

- Maybe I should ask Gwen.
- No, I'm down for tonight, I swear.

Carpe ropem?

Guess all Osborn's money
couldn't buy him muscle tone.

Lay off, Flash.
You think you could do better?

How about you and me race?
First to the top wins.

Dude, Parker's calling you out.

And my spider powers
are gonna send you home crying.

- Ball, please.
- All right, all right.

A little friendly competition
never hurt anyone.

Line up.

Forget it. You win.

Usually, when I say
puny Parker stinks...

...it's a figure of speech, but:

Yeah, and I showered three times
last night.

Peter, throw me the ball.

Gwen, I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

- You turned at the last se--
- Parker, hit the showers.

- Yeah, for all our sakes.
- Yeah.

- Pete, are you wearing perfume?
- It's a long story.

Look, Miss Bra-- I mean, Betty.

This is embarrassing,
but could you replace my check?

It got trashed.

Well, sure. Oh, you have to meet
our editor in chief.

- Joe Robertson, this is Peter Parker.
- The photographer, right.

Call me Robbie. Any new shots?

Do you know a Rand Robertson?

Well, there is a kid by that name...

...who lives in my house
and eats all my food.

- You at Midtown?
- Yes, sir.

Good school.
The fact that you've twice gotten...

...any usable pictures of Spider-Man
is pretty amazing.

But the photos themselves...

- You have your camera on you?
- She's hard to keep in focus.

This won't cut it.
You wanna be a Bugle freelancer...

...you take that check
and invest in a serious camera.

Garbage. Garbage. Literally garbage.
Garba-- Wait.

Wouldn't you rather use one
where Spider-Man's winning?

Shows what you know.
Nobody loves a winner.

The people are our market.
The people want their heroes to fail.

Makes them feel good
about themselves.

Piece of advice, kid:
Perfume doesn't cut it.

Tomato juice. Only thing
after taking pictures at a dump.

I so need an excuse
to get back to Betty.

Which means
I need to take more pictures.

Which means
I cashed in my checks because--

- I need to buy a new camera.
- We're closed. Go away.

The sign says
you don't close for another hour.

The sign's wrong.
Come back tomorrow.

I'm telling you, we gotta cash in fast.

Once Hammerhead spreads the word
Spider-Man's croaked...

...it'll be open season
for every hood in the city.

Still can't believe
I didn't cash in his chips myself.

- Something smells bad.
- Oh, still?

I washed this costume five times.

- You.
- And now that you troglodytes...

...have deduced that the rumors of
my demise have been exaggerated...

I'm not dead.

Never mind.
Just tell Shocker I want a rematch.

- You can call the cops now.
- Oh, I really, really hate that guy.

This is really, really getting heavy.

Hey, Aunt May.
I'm home before the new curfew.

That's appreciated, Peter.
I'm almost done here.

Just paying bills.

Or rather, deciding which ones
I can hold off paying.

Well, I think I might...

...hold off on the gas bill.

- I feel like banana cake. You?
- No. Thanks.

- I think I'll just hit the sheets.
- What? No banana cake?

Helping Harry
must've really tuckered you out.

Oh, man. Harry. I totally--

- Blew me off, Pete.
- I know, Har.

- Look, I'm worthless, but--
- But nothing. "Worthless" covers it.

Let me get this straight.

You ditched out
on the only guy in the whole school...

...who actually liked you? Genius.

- Big Man's not satisfied, Montana.
- And Why would that be?

He don't think
you lived up to your responsibilities.

The new camera
should make Robbie happy.

And, of course,
if I happen to run into--

- Miss Bra-- Betty.
- Oh, hi, Peter.

Perfect timing. Hold this.

You know,
we should do this more often.

I mean, you and I
have so much in common.

We both put mustard
on our hot dogs.

We both work for jolly Jonah,
and that's a treat, believe me.

Anyway, I was wondering,
would you like to go to my fall formal?

- With me, that is.
- Your fall formal?

Yeah. At my high school.
In the gymnasium.

So is that deafening silence a yes?

It's a very sweet offer,
but I'm just too old for you, Peter.

It's just a dance. A little rock 'n' roll.

Okay, I didn't mean it like that.

Graphic's already online.

Lee, get me damage reports.
Foswell, take the science angle.

Manhattan's not known
for earthquakes.

That was the third tremor.

Tremor? Or Shocker?

Epicenter's equally spaced.
A straight line heading uptown.

These aren't quakes.

They're Shocker's trail
of breadcrumbs for yours truly.

And I think I know
where to find his gingerbread house.

Here, Shocky, Shocky, Shocky.

Really thought I'd ended you,
old son.

But you got more lives
than a bag of cats.

Still, I reckon
we can remedy that situation.

One more at close range
ought to do it.

I do admire your spunk, son.

Not enough to let you go, of course.
That'd be bad for business.

- Whose business?
- Can't tell you the who.

Then tell me the why.

What'd your friendly neighborhood
Spider-Man ever do to you?

It ain't nothing personal, hoss.

Simple truth is, if a man's a man,
he honors his responsibilities...

...and you're one of mine.

Well, the place is condemned.

You know, it really ain't wise
to make a dangerous man look foolish.

You don't need my help for that.
You looked in a mirror lately?

Boy, talk about incompetent.
You've had more shots at me...

...than Marko and O'Hirn,
and done about as well.

Them boys are punks.
This is my profession.

You do this for a living?

With that accent,
I was thinking rodeo clown.

- Don't you mock me, boy.
- I mock. I'm a mocker.

Also a puller, a tugger, a yanker.

And that's what they call
bringing down the house.

- You seem troubled, son.
- Troubled? Gee, you think?

I failed my calc test
because Pete abandoned me.

- Flash's crowd won't cut me a break.
- Enough.

You're parked in a no-whining zone.
Take some responsibility.

Peter's not the reason you failed.
You wanna pass a test, study.

You wanna be popular, be popular.
Take control of your destiny, boy.

Harry, life's pretty simple.

You cowboy up
and do what you have to do.

Thanks. I will.

- My apologies for the interruption.
- Kids today. What you gonna do?

New topic: Spider-Man.
We want him gone.

- You care?
- None of my business.

Really? Hero saved your hide.

I have nothing to do with Spider-Man.
I wouldn't have risked tipping you off...

-...to that Tri Corp shipment if I had.
- Why did you tip us off?

Tri Corp's my competitor
in the super-mercenary field.

If their prototypes go missing,
everyone wins.

Which brings up an issue
my boss would like to discuss.

Go ahead, Big Man.

Mr. Osborn, we have a proposition.

When Spider-Man battles
the likes of the Vulture...

...the Lizard, and even our Shocker...

...he's too busy
to interfere with my empire.

We would like to hire you
to create more, well...

-...let's call them "super-villains. "
- What's in it for me'?

Ample funding and a ready supply
of human guinea pigs...

...for your more questionable
experiments.

Ned Lee, the Bugle.
What is it? What's the card say?

Robbie, it's me. I'm here.
But I need a photog--

- Wait, what?
- I said Parker was there.

Already e-mailed his shots.
Kid still needs a new camera.

- What's this?
- The Bugle paid me for my pictures.

- Now you can pay those bills.
- Out of the question.

Besides, if you're gonna take photos
for the Bugle, you need a new camera.

Well, that thought occurred.

But a man has to honor
his responsibilities.

You're one of mine.
Aunt May, please, let me help.

I accept, if you agree to set aside
10 percent of every check...

...to save for that camera. Deal?

Deal.

Peter, dear,
why do you smell like tomato juice?