3 | Turning Pages
Act 1
Chapter 3
Turning Pages
- - -
Colonel James Rupert Rhodes’s Funeral
The Ride to Philadelphia National Cemetery was very…tense and awkward.
The sedan housed four honorary carriers for the Colonel’s coffin together, excluded from the other four US Air Force officers joining them at the cemetery.
The veterans, who were seated opposite them at the back of the vehicle, were the Cosmic Avenger and the Falcon. They were decked out in their formal uniforms, complete with decorated ranks on their jackets and service caps.
Carol Danvers glued her solemn eyes to the passing scenery beyond the confines of tinted glass, refusing to address anyone with her in the cargo.
Sam sits uncomfortably next to her and alternates his eyes between the young superheroes across from him, especially at the vigilante whose outfit seems normal and appropriate for a funeral service except for the red Spider-Man mask over his face “Don’t you think that’s a bit, I don’t know, too red for something like this?”
“Funerals don’t always have to be gloomy and sad, right?” Peter retorted lightheartedly, “The public knew about my connection with Rhodey when I was an Avenger.” The vigilante declared with determination, “It would raise more suspicion about some random dude joining you guys than a simple curiosity about my odd choice of clothing, don’t you think?” then, his eyes turned to the blonde aviator that is still keeping her eyes away from them “…You looked great,” he chanced a casual tone at her.
“…Thanks.” Carol took a minute before replying without looking back.
The car halted at the gathering of officers in front of a decorated coffin with the USA flag draped over it, situated on a platform at the back of a hearse. The officers dressed just like Sam and Carol, all a part of the US Air Force. The veterans from the Avengers quickly familiarized themselves with the squad, leaving Harley and Spider-Man feeling out of place.
“About the things that she said back then,” Harley started, motioning for the blonde Captain, the only woman joining the carriers.
“Yeah,” Peter replied, grimly “You get a ping on him yet?”
“Nope.” The demoted Iron Man shook his head “Fury’s practically a ghost when he wanted to.”
“What about the thruster trails of the Sentinels?” Peter inquired, adjusting his tie a little “Any luck?”
“Unfortunately,” The Tennessean replied with a sigh “The trails were all dissipated within the first few hours; that’s saying something for the type of energy sources that they used.”
“Experimental?”
“And I think we knew where that came from.” Harley added, “Remember that black ops Bucky and Sam joined Yelena in at the Sahara?” He looked to the side and saw the red mask nod. “I didn’t have the full picture, but from what Karen siphoned out before they shut her down, it was that they were there to retrieve some kind of a radioactive element from there.”
“…the Eye of Sahara?” Peter inquired with a surprise.
Harley nodded “Apparently there was a document collected by HYDRA back in the 1940s about their discovery of an ancient civilization site. Fury sent them to secure the isotope, and I guess that’s how they managed to supplement the energy requirement for the Vision.” Harley then stopped for a beat before reiterating “Or should I call it Sentinel Prime?”
“It’s too Transformer-ish if you asked me.” Peter replied, falling into deep thought “…some archaeologists theorized the Eye to be the origin of Atlantis, or at least the Sea People’s before they relocated beyond the Pillars of Hercules.”
“And according to you, the underwater Pripyat-junior was not that far off from Plato’s estimation.”
“…You think there’s some connection there—”
“Hey, come on!” Sam called for them and interrupted the brainstorming between the supergeniuses. “Time’s up.” The others were already positioned at their posts, leaving two vacant spots on the left for them opposite Carol and Sam at the front.
Sam and Carol led the civilian participants in unloading the casket from a wagon with the officers, methodically and quietly as the Honor Guards started their ceremonial tunes that filled the silence field. With sharp movements and barely a single word spoken, Peter and Harley strictly followed the others as they gripped their respective handlebars before lifting the casket in sync with the others; Peter and Carol specifically had to minimize their superior strength to not mess up the ceremony. The drums and trumpets started, and Captain Marvel took the lead, beginning the march towards the vacant excavated spot that was prepared to be Colonel Rhodes’s final resting place, each step thuds heavily into their hearts, resurfacing sadness and guilt, but they had to keep pushing.
Unfamiliar faces passed by, and Peter could only deduce that they attended because of who Rhodey was before the Avengers. The front rows, however, seated mostly the people he recognized. The Avengers, the ones that attended, took the left side front rows while Pepper and Morgan were with the parents and family members.
The casket was carried until lowered along with the drums onto the platform, and the flag was folded neatly before being offered to the parents amidst quiet wailing from the mother as the father held her upright, supporting his grieving wife.
Pepper hugs Morgan tightly against her chest while patting the little girl’s back softly to chase away her cry as her tiny arms reach out toward the portrait.
Looking to the side, he saw Harley gritting his teeth with a closed mouth, his fists clenched tightly the knuckles turned white.
Carol looked at the exchange from afar with pursed lips, a grimace lined her face and refused to take her eyes off the grieving mother.
Sam stood stoically, showing only resilience and respect for the fallen friend.
Bucky, decked in his US Army Captain ceremonial uniform, stood quietly with his hands joined at the front and his head hung low.
Clint silently stood with his eyes hooded.
Thor puffed out his chest and stood tall, only a hint of a smile grazing his lips.
Bruce Banner quietly looked at the exchange with a sad cloud over his head.
Kate lowered her head with her hands clutched at the front.
Roaming his eyes out of curiosity, he noticed more faces among the crowd.
Maria Hill hung around the back with a pair of shades on, her face still and devoid of any noticeable emotion as always.
There’s Michelle, clearly attended as a representative for the United Nations, took a spot furthest from anyone out of her preference to observe more than interact.
Thaddeus Ross was seated among the generals, looking calmly at the gathered crowd and focusing on him more than once. At his side, there’s a woman whom he recalled being one of the faces and names that Susan listed as her team back in the GRU days; Elizabeth Ross, the Acting-Director’s daughter.
The funeral carried on without anything exciting, thankfully, and the casket was lowered into the Earth around an hour after that.
“You’ve got some cojones showing your face here, Spider-Man.” The Thunderbolt greeted as he intruded on the private gathering between the Avengers and the vigilante.
“Well, hello there, mister Acting Director!” Peter emphasized the title with a mirthless smirk under his mask “When will you be voted out from the office? I have to make sure I order the flowers just in time.”
“You punk.” Ross huffed, looking at the Avengers with demanding eyes. “Why are all of you just having a conversation with him? Arrest Spider-Man!”
“It’s Rhodes’s funeral,” Bucky pointed out.
“Show some respect,” Sam joined in.
“Tis the foulest of transgressions to disturb such a ceremony, and the King of Asgard heed no command,” Thor added.
“If you are comfortable with ruining the Avengers’ publicity, be my guest,” Carol jumped into the fray.
“I’m not an active member.” Harley pointed out with a shrug of his shoulders.
“Demoted here.” Kate joined in with a smirk.
“House arrested.” Doctor Banner gestured towards his ankle.
Rage filled Thaddeus’s face, but he couldn’t do anything more than that and spun around to march away without another word.
“Thanks, guys.” Peter breathed out a relief sigh, looking at the group surrounding him.
“I’m not looking forward to brawling it out with you around the innocents, Man of Spiders.” Thor replied with a hearty laugh “We would be laying waste to the whole cemetery!” and the God of Thunder slaps him on the back firmly with his godly strength, stumbling Peter forward a few steps.
“Ouch!” he exclaimed with a chuckle. Then he saw Carol depart from the group and decided to follow her until they reached a secluded shade under an oak where the Cosmic Avenger stopped, turning her whole body around with a saddened look on her face.
“…What you want?” The blonde asked without looking at his face, or mask, casting her hooded eyes to the side where they landed on the small gathering of family members around the new headstone as the veterans and officers already left the cemetery. “Got any more shit to throw at me?”
“…Look, Carol,” Peter started after a deep sigh, pocketing his hands and casting his eyes away from her too “What I said back then…” he trailed off and kept biting his lower lip, trying to come up with something more profound or well-out, but eventually decided on the simplest of them all “…I’m sorry I took my anger out on you. It’s not your fault that Rhodey was dead. Fury was the one to blame in all of this.” he finished, then looked up at her, seeking those eyes with a silent plea. Without any inkling of a response, Peter nodded silently to himself and started making his way back to the group, but then Carol’s voice stopped him.
“It sucks,” the blonde whispered into the air, letting out a grim chuckle. “You know how it feels when people say you only bring death and destruction everywhere you go?”
“…I do,” Peter replied, surprising the Cosmic Avenger. He looked upward to the sky, trying to gaze into the Heavens to see if it was there, hidden among the stars “I know guilt won’t go away,” He looked back at the staring Captain with a saddened and apologetic smile “I’m sorry for adding to that,”
Carol looked at the man behind the mask for a long while, contemplating her mind on him, until eventually,
She returned the smile with softened eyes. Both glance upon the unending field of green lined with rows and columns of headstones as the last remnant of the braves and the bolds among them.
- - -
Symkarian-Latverian border
Teresa crawled her way through the dense jungle surrounding the small village on the outskirts of Perselus, the southernmost province of the Latverian-occupied regions surrounding the Doomstadt at the central governing state. The population is made up of refugee Symkarians and Sokovians mixed to form a semblance of a community under Doom’s ruthless occupation campaigns aiming to assimilate the surrounding countries under the Latverian Empire.
She contributed so much to the latest changes in the Upper House members within Doom’s court: a couple of assassinations here and there, occasional defamations and sabotaging, et cetera.
Things she doesn’t want to remember, just to achieve what the Rebels wanted to be done.
She shook her trance away and advanced onward, targeting a stray group of two at the back of the village, possibly doing a casual patrol while the main forces were overlooking the extortion. The one on the left usually took off to the edge of the forest about a minute before circling back to the post, and the one on the right did the same on the opposite side. The Chameleon mulled and fished a non-lethal knife out of its sheath around the back of her belt, the blade coated in a thin layer of specialized grease mixed with tetrodotoxin and other components to boost its effectiveness beyond nominal. One minute max, I have to account for everything, or I’ll be a Swiss cheese. Teresa then connected an additional compartment to the blade, introducing the calculated amount of voltage into the metal, turning it into a close-combat taser. It would’ve been easier to just kill them.She annoyingly internalized before closing the distance between herself and the unaware soldier from behind him without even a single snap of a twig to betray her advancement and strike the taser at the base of his jaw where the strap of his helmet was not covering.
The soldier spasms and has a seizure throughout his body for that gap of four to five seconds, rendering him unable to produce coherent or audible noises as the cut introduced the tetrodotoxin component into his bloodstream, and he falls onto the ground in a matter of seconds. Paralyzed.
Teresa reloaded her toxin by sheathing the blade into its scabbard again as she began stalking the patrolling soldier by matching his steps and pace until she reached the optimal range to deliver another precise stab to the soldier’s neck that rendered him paralyzed on the ground without a peep. “Two,” Teresa reported into the comms and advanced to the next group as ruffles of footsteps approached from behind alongside six of the Rebels following her to execute their plan, dragging the two soldiers into the bushes to strip them of their gears.
Teresa observed the soldiers for a moment before donning her morpho-polymer mask on her face and changing her appearance to a random villager before showing herself out of the jungle with her head hanging low, striding with a casual pace, heading towards the incoming soldiers.
“Állj meg ott! (Stop right there!)” the soldier on the right yelled from his position, aiming both of their assault rifles at her center of mass.
“Ne lőjön! (Don’t shoot!)” Teresa exclaimed convincingly with expert control of her voice, stood in place, and showed surrender.
“Mondja el, mi a dolga!(State your business!)” the one on the right added, disengaging the safety of his rifle with narrowed eyes.
“Éppen gyűjtögetek, az anyám beteg. Kérem, engedjen át. (I'm foraging, my mother is sick. Please, let me through.)” She pleaded with a wavering voice, keeping her eyes on the ground while the rifles were still trained on her. “Az elmúlt néhány napban rengeteget köhögött. Kérem... (She's been coughing up a storm for the past few days. Please…)” she bowed lowered, joining her hands in the front and begging them with calculated gestures.
The soldiers kept her in their crosshairs for a little while before lowering their guns and whistling to her with a hand gesture, signaling her to carry on. “Ne bolyongj egyedül az erdőben, veszélyes. (Don't wander alone in the woods, it's dangerous.)” one of them informed her with a firm tone and started to pass by her with them on either side.
“…I couldn’t agree more,” Teresa replied in English and threw a toxin knife into the right-side soldier’s calf before jumping onto the left one’s back, wrapping her legs around his arms to keep them in a lock while her arms snaked under his chin to apply pressure and prevent a yelp or a call for help. It took her around half a minute of constriction until the soldier fell onto the dirt, with her clinging to his back, and passed out. With a swift movement, Teresa detached and dislodged the knife from the first soldier to cut a shallow wound into the neck of the knocked-out soldier to introduce the tetrodotoxin into his system, paralyzing him under record time.
The Rebels followed along and repeated the process as she pushed on to acquire the last pair of her requirements.
“How’s the supplies?” Felicia inquired after the switcheroo was a success and the infiltration units left the area along with Doom’s soldiers.
“Enough for another quarter or so,” Sylvia replied after rechecking the stocks for the third time. “And what will we do when they send another platoon to punish the villagers?”
“Assuming that the new platoon won’t include the same units as today, we stand to gain more opportunity to plant more moles inside his ranks,” Felicia replied, snatching a piece of jerky out from the opened crate, chewing casually on the salted strip “…we have to play it slow, let the wound fester a bit. If we do anything too drastic, it might tick Doom off, and the moles won’t be of any use.” The domesticated burglar shrugged, finishing a jerky in her hand, and strutting away towards the Humvee as the others began loading the supply crates for transportation. “Hmm…I can really use a Chili dog right now…” Black Cat mumbled with her eyes glued to the sky.
The Rebels caravan made a detour at the village to retrieve the Chameleon before trailing the hidden path back to their base.
Felicia caught a stray glance from Teresa before they entered the bunker, but the Chameleon avoided her eye contact before heading off to her chamber.
“Felicia,” her sister called, and Black Cat spun around “A word?” Silver Sable gestured to a secluded corner away from the others. “…Your plans,”
“It’s the best I could come up with, Sis,” Black Cat replied, leaning back against the wall with her arms crossed, “I once robbed this shipping magnate who had a little vacation in SoHo, one of my first big gigs, I picked each little trinkets, leaving the valuables behind just to give him a test. He immediately rotated his whole security team and contracted a new security system contractor afterward, and all the best ones in the city are the ones owned by Wilson Fisk.” The platinum-blonde let out a smirk and a shrug “Suffice to say, he was fleeced dried in a week; nobody knows who’s the thief or how they got in. I got a cozy chair in Fisk’s roundtable for that.”
Sylvia chuckled softly at the story and the apparent attitude her half-sister showed, “Do you think Doom will buy it?”
“Hard to say,” Felicia sincerely answered “I usually studied my targets for days or weeks before executing a heist. That way, I’m sure nothing will be out of place.” She displayed a flat grin “This time? I have nothing on him; how he thinks. How he reacts to things. His weaknesses. His behavioral pattern.” Listing casually with each finger “The man’s a goddamn mystery despite being a public figure; how’s that?!”
“I don’t see you having any problem with the Spider’s?” Sylvia crossed her arms with a hidden smirk, observing the body language.
“That guy?” Felicia scoffed with a chuckle “Eh, he’s not as mysterious as everybody thinks; actually, he’s really simple.”
Sylvia quirked her eyebrows.
“He’s…Spider-Man.” Felicia shrugged with a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, confident that her answer sums up the person that is Peter Parker.
“Very informative.” Sylvia teased.
“Ugh, it’s not a college essay.” Felicia waved her sister off and started walking towards the quarters, dying for a shower “See you at dinner.”
Felicia walked past the small air vent designated as a smoking area inside the bunker, to be met by the Chameleon leaning on a pillar with a cigarette between her fingers. Her eyes were glazed and locked at the rectangular cut of the sky above her head. The billow of smoke ascended lazily, dispersing among the high-passing breeze and disappearing completely.
Their eyes met again, and this time, she held it as the distance had been reduced step by step until they shared the proximity inside the small cubicle without a single word exchanged. Felicia cast her eyes down toward the cigarette with a quirk of her brow, inquisitively, and it seems Teresa got the message and reluctantly produced a new one from her breast pocket before offering it like an olive branch toward the Black Cat.
They shared a quiet rhythm of inhaling and exhaling toxin smoke for a minute before Felicia started, following a cough “What’s eating you?”
“What’s it to you?”
“I’m an inquisitive person,”
“Isn’t that bad for cats?”
The conversation dies after that, only smoke moves as both contemplate what to do next.
“Come on,” Felicia tried again, flicking the cigarette’s butt into a grating’s slot covering the leisure stream below them “I can tell you are not friends with anyone here—”
“Really? What gave it away; my charming personality?”
“…I know that look,” Felicia replied after a moment, voice serious and a bit…sympathetic.
Teresa was confused at the tinge of vulnerability showing underneath the confident and nonchalant surface of the infamous thief.
“I know when bad memories resurfaced…” Unknowingly, Felicia started picking at the thumb’s nail groove with her index, trying to ward off the haunting of demonic chortles and disgusting hands that roamed her body.
It’d made her want to flay herself.
She used to sit on the bathroom floor under streams of boiling water just to feel washed and cleaned.
It took her…years to be able to look at herself again.
For her to not see a broken doll staring back with haunting eyes…but not completely.
Sometimes, in moments of weakness, the broken doll will be there.
She’ll always be there, hanging around like a festering parasite.
That’s the only thought she is certain of in life.
“…Let it out,” Felicia whispered “Find someone who would listen, and talk. Even if you have to speak in silence.” As Felicia was about to leave, Teresa sighed heavily and rested her forehead against the railing.
“…I hate it here.” The Chameleon mumbled to herself. “…I was ten, and instead of running around without a care in the world, I had to run obstacle courses.” Teresa recited her childhood, “General study replaced by in-depth Anatomy 101, especially how and where to hit. Where to cut and how deep to get different results. Advanced interrogation…” her face twitched, “Infiltration. Disguise. Architecture. Demolition.” The brunette’s arms crossed upon the railing, hunching her shoulders. “Next thing I know, Sable’s daddy dearest assigned me my first mission,” her voice cracked a little with a grim snort “posing as a hooker for one of the Latverian generals.”
Felicia listened in silence, captivated by the tragedy and lost for words.
“They search every nook and cranny before you can get past the gates. I couldn’t even sneak a needle in.” Teresa regaled it like a casual conversation at dinner, “I got into the sick bastard’s room…I had to…” a stutter made itself known. Felicia unknowingly reduced the gap between them, “…when he was distracted, I grabbed the letter opener and cut his head off.” The tale ends so abruptly with a mirthless chuckle escaping her quivering lips, but then she tensed up as her torso was wrapped by two arms circling from the side. Black Cat's hug tightens as she exerts some resistance to try and wiggle out.
It took her a while until the sobs couldn’t be contained anymore, and she let them explode without a care in the world.
Teresa breaks into the embrace, pouring her broken heart out against the rushing stream.
Felicia hums a lullaby softly and caresses the head of the crying woman, rocking her lightly back and forth to help Teresa ride out the heartbreaking wails.
Sylvia stays hidden in the shadows as she watches her half-sister console one of the victims of her father’s ruthless cruelties with disgust on her face.
- - -
The Baxter Building
“…Mother.” Johnny leaned against a translucent glass overlooking the city of Manhattan from the top of the Baxter Building, “Where did you take my sister?”
“Such a lovely way to greet your mother, dear,” Mary Storm’s voice sarcastically replied from the other end “Alas, Susan’s and mine whereabouts is none of your concern. Be assured, Jonathan, that I have her best interest at heart.”
Your best interest would be more precise. Johnny mulled with a seed of anger, groaning into the microphone “Mother. I have to know where she is.”
“She’s with me. She’s fine, Jonathan. That’s all there is for you to know.”
“I deserve more,” Johnny gritted out, a grimace lining his face “I’m the one who cares for her.”
“Insolent little child,” his mother’s biting venom seeps through the satellite link “I had allowed you two too much, and look where it ends. No more, Jonathan, I shall retake my responsibility as your mother once more.”
“I will not allow it!” Johnny gritted “You will not—” The line was cut before he could finish the sentence, and Johnny let out a frustrating roar into the sky “Fuck! You greedy cunt!” he screamed into the phone and crushed it between his flaming fist when Mary refused to answer any more of his calls, disintegrated the device within millisecond against the intense heat.
After he had cooled himself down a little, the glass door behind him swung open, and his eyes were met with the curious face of Julia rushing out of the cubicle with a fire extinguisher in her hands “Nathaniel reported a temperature peak here, thought—”
“It’s nothing, Jules.” He exhaled the last heated air out of his breath and braved a casual smile on his face “Just a little exercise,” he snapped his finger with a smirk, summoning a ball of flame to dance between the cage of his fingers before putting it out “Nothing—”
“Quit your act, Johnny.” Julia sighed, setting the extinguisher down near the door, and walked out to the windy balcony with her shoulder-length dark hair fluttering from the high wind “Talk to me.”
“It’s truly nothing—”
“I’m not a stranger, Johnny,” Julia scoffed, taking a step “I’m your friend.”
“A friend?” Johnny quirked his eyebrows at her with a knowing smirk.
“Let me rephrase,” Julia chuckled, looking at him with determination “You are a friend.”
“…right.” The sandy-blond mutated human nodded with a hint of disappointment behind his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by worries “I’ve…majorly fucked up.”
“No shit.” Julia casually nodded.
“Don’t you supposed to disagree with me?” he attempted a tease.
“But you did it, Johnny.” Julia cackled mirthlessly, “You called Mary!” the senior engineer made air quotes to emphasize the ridiculousness. “Sue was like a stolen trophy to her; what the hell do you think she would do when she got her hands on it again?! You two ran away from home together to escape that woman,” Julia came up to glared fiercely into Johnny’s evasive eyes “Her friends are here, Johnny!” She jutted her fingers roughly against his muscled chest “She is loved!” Julia coiled her fists around the collars of his adaptive fabric suit “You just had to let the only person in the whole fucking world who saw her as nothing but anobject take her away!” Julia yanked him down with a gritting snarl “And now? You’re whining about it?! Gimme a fucking break!” she pushed him away forcefully, glaring daggers at the younger brother of her closest friend.
“Jules, that’s enough,” Ben called from behind, his sad eyes captured by the intense scene.
“No, it’s not! Ben,” the Japanese-American woman furiously added “This idiot,” she pointed at the sandy-blond without looking back, “sold his fucking sister!”
“Pumps the brakes there—” Johnny attempted to defend himself, but failed miserably as Julia cut in.
“Mary’s gonna sell Sue to the highest bidder,” she made sure Johnny heard every word spoken clearly “Maybe you’ll get some changes after your sister becomes someone’s pet?” The engineer sarcastically bites with seething venom.
“Julia!” Ben called again, firmer.
“It’s the truth!” Julia yelled, frustrated, “And he fucking knew it!” she pointed her finger directly between the Human Torch’s eyes.
Johnny quickly leaped over the railing and lit himself on fire before zooming away from the Baxter Building.
- - -
Reading Terminal Market
The rustling of people coming and going envelops the entire area. Verbal advertisements and chatter filled the air alongside a chaotic combination of smells emanating from fresh produce, fresh foods, and the Afternoon heat of Philadelphia.
On the roundtable, there are various types of enticing foods making up a small feast.
“MJ—” Peter started.
“Don’t,” Michelle cut him off, “It’s not like there’s something left for you to salvage here, Spider-Man.” Her veiled venom stung at his core, but Michelle ignored the physical flinching exerted by the superhero by continue picking her sandwich. “We were both stupid kids, especially me—”
“MJ,” Peter cut her off in retaliation with a huff “It’s not—” he stopped himself, sinking into his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a heavy sigh “I had to keep you safe from being around me.” Peter revealed with a grimace, “You almost die. The Green Goblin would have killed you if Peter-3 wasn’t there.”
“I chose to be there,” Michelle retorted.
“I know.” Peter replied with a sigh, “That’s why I had to take myself out of your life.”
“Here we go, my savior!” the sarcasm drips into the air “Doing things without anyone’s opinion again because he thinks he’s smarter than everyone!” she spread her arms dramatically around herself.
“That’s not fair!”
“Abandoning me wasn’t fair!” MJ retaliated heatedly, “I know Boston is like a three-hour drive away, but I’ve never seen you once; never!” she pointed an accusing finger at him “Not a call. Not a text. Nothing!”
Peter opened his mouth as if to retort, but only silence made its way out.
“I thought it was the coolest thing ever, you know?” Michelle continued without looking up from her plate, “My boyfriend’s a superhero!” she let out a dry chuckle “…but I couldn’t even remember who you are under that stupid costume.” She averted her eyes to stare into the white lenses across the table “Every time you got hurt, I was worried…until I gave up.” Then her eyes cast to the side and fell upon the approaching duo of Avengers with drinks for the table; her eyes locked onto Kate Bishop before alternating toward Harley Keener, “…You’d moved on, and so should I.”
“…I’m sorry...”
She remains avoidant and ignores his words, focusing on the rustling people instead.
- - -
New York City
His eyes roamed the papers and pictures dotted all over the gigantic redwood tabletop situated at the center of the penthouse while weighing his body into the cushioned chair with a hard seat; it’s good for posture and overall health.
“My apologies, Mister Fisk,” his secretary called from the private line “Your guest is here,”
“Send her in. Thank you, Claudia.” The mountain of muscles encased inside a pristine customized white suit and a purple shirt hummed into the phone as he kept his eyes on the task. As he finished with the last required signature for the current document, a buzz from the door announced the presence of the guest, and Fisk casually pressed the button to disengage the electromagnetic interlocking mechanism. The face of a woman with shoulder-length brown hair and an unpleased look comes into view.
Fisk let out a tiny smirk before getting up from his chair and approaching the woman who relocated herself to the couches at the side, overlooking the city through borderless panoramic glass decorated with a bucket filled with ice surrounding a carafe of Pinot Noir. “A bit earlier than planned, DoctorVaranasi?” The Kingpin greeted her with his corporate smile as he poured the red liquid into a glass for her as an offering, which she took with a hum. He gestured for the doctor to take a seat before pouring himself one, finally sitting across from her after a little sip “How’s the ride here?”
“If it’s not the sea of cars clogging up the roads, it’s a city-wide disaster that makes life difficult,” Doctor Varanasi replied, taking down the crimson nectar to a third with a single gulp as the sarcasm mixed with the winery taste on her tongue. She averted her eyes towards the mountain of a man across the liger carpet “You wouldn’t have that problem, would you?”
“I’ll admit that I have some…privilege over the majority of the people here,” Wilson nodded and set his glass down before leaning onto the couch, loosening the last button to give himself more comfort while sitting. “But that is not what we are here for today, Doctor Varanasi.” Then, he picked up and handed a document to her with a concerned look “I must acquire your expertise on this.”
As she flipped and read through the contents, her expression turned more suspicious and dubious over time until the doctor set the documents down on the table and finished her wine with a heavy sigh. “…What is the meaning of this, Mister Fisk?”
Wilson only smiled coldly in return.
- - -
The Baxter Building
“Here’s his man cave.” Julia gestured to the small corner where Peter relocated every modified equipment required for his vigilantism to keep them isolated from the rest of RAC operations “Nathaniel already registered your biometrics from before, just scan the prints here,” she indicated to the reader at the side with a smile. “I gotta get back to the main lab; don’t set anything on fire, okay?”
“Got it,” Gwen nodded then gave her boyfriend’s senior and supervisor a wave. “Thanks, Miss Takeda!” the Japanese-American turned the corner, and Gwen averted her attention towards the sliding door that separates Peter’s closet from the rest of the company. She palmed the scanner to open the door, revealing the dimly lit quarter filled with half-finished equipment and devices lining the shelf and the bench, the fabricator she saw him designing his suit on before situated to the right and taking up that half of the quarter. She took a first step into the room and prompted a veil of light to shine from above, passing through from front to back.
“Scan completed.” The monotonous voice announced as the door shut, “Welcome, Gwen Stacy.”
“Nathaniel?”
“Yes?”
“Um…” Gwen looked around, seeing husks of Spider-Man’s face mask printed from polycarbonate into frames that would hold up the shape of the mask while providing basic protection against blunt force trauma. “Can you turn the fabricator on for me?”
The machine whirred to life as the rectangular lid slowly opened to reveal the full-size horizontal interface that lights the whole chamber up under its icy blue glow.
Gwen approached the holo-interface and then navigated until she found the folder suspiciously named ‘S.W.’ and opened it. It contains rough hand drafts of suit variations sorted and categorized by style, features, and color palette. “…I guess the form-fitting nature was just to achieve maximum efficiency against air resistance and drags.” The sunflower-blonde mumbled to herself and kept filing through the almost two dozen suits Peter had spewed from his overclocking brain. Looking down at herself, she pursed her lips with a smirk. “Good thing I don’t have a massive rack.” After a full review, Gwen picked some elements from the roster of the suits into a new project. Taking a folded paper out of her pants pocket, she unfolded the crayon art made by Aña during their short stay at the Brooklyn Hospital Center with a fond smile on her face.
“La Araña!” the little girl exclaimed proudly when she asked about it after she found her so focused on the artwork with some of the evacuee kids in the main hall.
The design was simple, but striking in visuals.
All-white primary palette with black as the secondary; it’s almost a replica of Spider-Man’s.
That’s his brand, though… Gwen thought as she looked at the giant spider wrapping around the torso of the drawing. Maybe something less…obvious? The sunflower-blonde hummed as she laid the drawing face-first into the scanner pad and let the fabricator reconstruct the data into interactive components. After a moment to let the quantum computer process things, she can pick apart Aña’s design of aspects that she finds unappealing and adjust it until the final design comes to fruition.
She has the all-white design as a primary while the blacks have been reshaped to cradle her breasts like a corset, which is tapered to just above her diaphragm. Two claw-like stripes started at the underside of her collarbones and ended just shy of the humerus. The overall pattern originated from the back where it shows a resemblance of a spider hugging onto her back with its legs. The Web-Shooters are matte grey by default. Her photosensitive-reduction lenses were rounder and encased inside frames of white.
It’s…depressingly bland. Gwen mulled internally with a huff and then noticed the unfinished coloring on the paper…
She quickly tested the idea out and soon, a smile tugged on the corner of her lips at the addition of hot magenta.
How about… Gwen drags the hoodie in to complete it.
“Begin the fabrication,” Gwen commanded, and Nathaniel beeped in reply before the fabricator slowly closed.
“Hello, GRU crates…” Gwen whispered into the dying Sunset as she flattened herself to an inactive flare tower of one of OSCORP’s abandoned industrial facilities in the heart of Hell’s Kitchen, looking down at the aftermath of GRU’s restoration effort after the flood and the group of ten that looks nothing like volunteers if assault rifles and shotguns on them were any indication to go by. “Guns and suits…if I didn’t know that the Maggia was basically non-existent now, I’d say this is one of Hammerhead’s old crew.” She remembered the similarities from her snooping fest at Yuri’s apartment; it was during the Five Years that she and Howard crashed with the now-police captain to save their money; she got bored and decided to raid the criminal profiling collection that the supercop copied from the archived. “It would be great if I can—oh, that’s why he has Edith.” Gwen mulled to herself and shot a line of webbing to another tower before swinging in a pendulum down to the closer spot where her enhanced senses might be able to pick up something.
Without an integrated AI in her suit, she has to rely on classic reconnaissance.
“…to the warehouse quick before someone sees us!” the burly guy roused the others with his booming voice, hands comfortably resting on the HK-416 strapped to his torso.
“Why do we have to do it on thatfucker’s turf?” the lanky one exclaimed, eyes looking up towards the sky and around, eyes widened in anticipating fear.
“Daredevil don’t play in the lights!” the burly leader countered, kicking the lanky guy’s butt a little to urge him “We have another hour before he shows. Get going!”
That accent… Gwen sighed, shaking her head. Yuri’s gonna be livid if this gets to her.There are exactly eighteen of them, four gunmen with hopefully semi-automatic rifles and shotguns, while the rest are focusing on logistics. At least, that’s the amount she can see; there’s always a possibility of blind spots. With quick calculations, Gwen did a ballpark estimation that a simple web shot consumes about 1.5% of the overall capacity in each cartridge, and then she reloaded both Web-Shooters to maximize her effectiveness. With her bio-electrostatic fingers and feet, the White Spider (she knows…it’s kinda last minute) crawled her way around the warehouse to the back and got her eyes on two guards stationed at each corner of the building.
Classically, a Spider would jump down with quips and bad puns dealing feet and fists to them in a shock-and-awe tactic.
But she’s not gonna rely on her abysmal expertise in martial arts and fast-paced CQB.
Instead, Gwen noticed the lapse between them that created an opening that allowed her to somersault forward from the wall, align her Web-Shooters with hopes and prayers, and then shoot two globs of webbing at the first guard’s mouth and hands. The webbing landed squarely on their intended targets, surprising the guard with a muffled yelp of confusion.
Gwen shoots another line that expands and wraps around his ankles, pulling with limited strength and knocking him out with a fall. The thud and metallic clang gain the attention of the other guard, which prompts Gwen to quickly deliver four shots at his mouth, hands, and ankles. She instinctively shot a line of webbing to the nearby spot to reel herself in like a speedball to connect a midair roundhouse kick to the side of his head. Making sure both were tied to the ground with a layer of webbing, the White Spider jumped onto the roof of the warehouse softly, mindful not to make a sound, and scaled the edge towards the conglomerate at the front.
They are too tightly grouped, she mused, looking at the non-existent opportunities to pick them off one by one like this, then she saw the surrounding mess of debris and totaled cars and barrels. Or…
“Don’t lose it—” the burly leader’s sentence was cut by him being yanked away so quickly the others were able to register what’d just happened.
Gwen utilized her power jump, and in the middle of an arch, she shot a web line at one of the remaining mobsters, then proceeded to give him the same treatment with her superhuman pull as she landed on the side of a tower, obscured from view.
“It’s Webhead!” some yelled, and the commotion started, clicks and clacks of safeties being disengaged filled her ears as her heart raced. “Check the back! Everyone spread out!” the commands reached her ears and Gwen decided to get a vantage point to plan her next move.
“Matt?” Foggy looked at his friend with a confused expression after the blind lawyer had just stopped himself mid-sentence with a tilted head. “Hello?”
“…gunshots.” The stubble-faced man with red sunglasses whispered to be discreet and quickly grabbed his foldable cane to make his way to the door of the diner.
“Wait, wait!” Foggy grabs his friend’s wrist to prevent that from happening, demandingly glaring at the blind man “Are you crazy? You’re just gonna up and run to a gunfight like this?!” he hissed just to be considerate.
“Spidey’s out of town,” Matt apologetically declared, and pried his arm off easily “Looks like I’m gonna have to work an early shift.” He smiled flatly at his law firm partner and long-time friend, then produced a bill from his pocket “Take out?”
“Yeah, I’ll throw 'em in the fridge.” Foggy sighed and leaned against his seat as Matt suspiciously effortlessly made his way out of the diner.
“Where’s Matt?” Karen’s voice inquired from the back as she returned from the bathroom.
Foggy replied by mimicking a pair of horns on his head with his fries, eliciting a snort from the blonde.
Using her powerful muscles, Gwen zoomed around the covers with blinding speed, webbing up and yanking the remaining Hammerhead goons without them being able to pinpoint her location, trying in vain to shoot randomly at anything that moves. Why did Pete always have a problem when dealing with them if we can do the same thing? Gwen mulled with confusion as her amateur efficiency in Spider-illa warfare proved to be more than enough to take down a group of armed men alone. Peter Parker has been doing this for almost a decade, so there’s no way he’s clumsier than her. Is he an Adrenaline junky— Her train of thought got interrupted by a sharp pain of a projectile grazing her side, tearing into the newly fabricated super suit, and drawing blood. Her flow was interrupted as well and Gwen collided with a cement bund wall, knocking the air out of her lungs. Listen to the screams of Spider-Sense, Gwen quickly relocates herself out of harm’s way to regain her composure.
There are three left standing, the rest were either knocked out or pinned down by webbings, scattering all over the area.
“Where the fuck did he go?!” one of them frustratingly shouted, reloading another magazine into his gun and chambered the first round. “I’ll fucking take your head as a homecoming gift for the boss, Bug!”
“Geez! Hardcore much?” Gwen hissed against the throbbing on her side, but the pain started to recede after a little rest as a form of her mutated physiology’s contribution. She struggled a bit but eventually managed to spray a layer of synthetic webbing over the graze; despite the non-severity of it, the risk of infection was there.
“Spider-Sense only warns you, so if you lose focus or the tingles are too overwhelming, you’ll get hit.”
As the throbs died down Gwen rose to her full height, looking down at the indicators reading 12 and 15 percent on each Web-Shooter with a huff. Reloading new ones and stalking along the warehouse, her Spider-Sense increases its intensity the more she gains closer to the edge facing the remaining goons. At least one of them looks this way. The sunflower-blonde concluded with a sigh, looking around for anything she could use to her advantage.
“What the—” the goons yelped in surprise followed by a tight ‘bonk!’ like something’s colliding with him.
“You’re not supposed to be—” the other started but got the same treatment, followed by a thud as he fell to the ground.
Gwen listened and trusted the Spider-Sense, rushing out to be greeted by the sight of Daredevil in his new suit engaging in one-sided hand-to-hand combat with the last goon using only his studded fists as his batons lay near the knocked-out goons. She watched as the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen delivered precise strikes that were so impressive like he’s playing Whack-a-mole on a human body. With the final hook that landed squarely against the man’s jaw, the goon spun like a wind chime before falling to the ground.
“Who are you?” the Man Without Fear inquired with skepticism in his voice, his posture stiff but relaxed at the same time, giving off a dangerous sense “And what are you doing here?”
“Um…” Gwen started, her voice cracked a little, then recomposed enough to form a coherent response “I’m friends with Spider-Man.”
“Clearly.” Daredevil sarcastically gestured to all the downed Maggia remnants around them with a scoff “The second question’s still there.”
“I ran into some GRU guys half an hour ago,” Gwen relayed, walking up to the marked crates to check their manifestos “They were ambushed and fleeced by a group of thugs. I followed the general direction and found them here.” She answered, making sure to slightly alter her voice just out of precaution. “These are foods and medical supplies that should reach the people who are taking shelters and seeking aides, not to be stored here and turn a profit later.”
“That’s quick,” Daredevil commented.
“It’s the simplest motivation.” White Spider shrugged.
“…you look inside the warehouse yet?” Daredevil started pointing his thumb at the building.
“That guy,” Gwen gestured at the last goon to be knocked out recently “was the gatekeeper.”
“So, you’re his sidekick?” the Devil of Hell's Kitchen inquired curiously as he led the other Spider-Person into the vacant warehouse, listening to any out-of-place noises that might reach his ears.
“No,” Gwen replied with a scoff “Just because we have similar powers doesn’t mean I have to be around him 24/7.”
“Whatever you say,” Matt smirked and refocused his echolocation to roughly map the interior out. “Any ideas?”
“Maybe it’s just a simple warehouse they’re gonna repurpose into a contraband storage?”
Matt quirked his eyebrow and fished his staff out before tapping at the floor forcefully, producing a hollowed sound from underneath.
“Or there’s some creepy basement underneath it.” Gwen quickly pointed out.
“Stay still,” Daredevil demanded and palmed the floor before tapping his staff in a rhythm to make a sonar model of the trap door in his mind. “…a standard hinged door, open outward.” He concluded, pointing his finger at the corner to inform the superhuman “A single hinge that direction, about two feet long.”
“So, we open from here?” Gwen stands opposite the mentioned component before latching her feet onto the edge of the trap door, shooting two web lines onto the H-beam support over their heads. “Can you tell me how thick it is?”
“…roughly half a foot.”
Gwen nodded and shot another pair of webbing before clutching two in each hand, “around 3,900 pounds…” she muttered and braced her leg muscles before pulling on the webs to use her body as leverage in pulling the latches underneath the concrete out of their places. Daredevil stepped away to give the Spider a space to work with her superhuman capabilities.
The steel slab groans and finally gives under tremendous force, breaking the concrete slot with the bent latches. She detached her feet and took a step back to bend down, using her hands to pry open a gap before opening the basement entrance with a sweep of dust and debris. “Open Sesame!” the spider announced with an excited tone.
They ascended the stairways after Gwen bent one corner of the trapdoor to prevent it from fully sealing the entrance. The two treks until the way opened into a decent cavern lined with medical equipment and an opaque cylinder at the center, connected with various cables and tubes. “Some kinda incubation chamber…” Gwen muttered to herself as her eyes roamed the items and equipment, especially at the central cylinder that ticked off her Spider-Sense.
“For what?” Matt asked, confused at the irregular heartbeats he detected from the cylinder as well as a nervous rhythm produced by the Spider.
“Doctor Frankenstein’s Monster?” Gwen offered with a shrug, then mitigated towards the only terminal inside that she could see, studying the UI a little before clearing the veil off the cylinder to reveal a face she’d never thought she’d be seeing outside of some big arrest news or in court.
“What is that?” Daredevil asked, noticing the accelerated pace of the Spider’s heart rate. “What’s inside?”
“…Doctor Frankenstein’s Monster,” Gwen answered, barely above a whisper, lenses widened as they took in the visual information of the mountain of a man floating inside the cylinder with tubes hooked to his body.
Metallic armor plates have been fastened and screwed into his skin.
His entire lower half was replaced by bionics.
His head has a metallic dome that takes half of the surface area with stitch marks lining the jagged flap of skin.
And that face, there’s no mistaking it for someone else.
“…Joseph Martello,” Gwen whispered the name and Daredevil tensed immediately.
- - -
East Harlem
“…Is that all, Davon?” Alonzo Lincoln asked, calmly, nursing a tumbler of whiskey in his hand.
“Yes, sir.” His henchman answered with a shivering voice, avoiding eye contact. He looked up with a glimmer of hope “I’ll hunt them down and—”
Tombstone shut him up with a finger over his mouth, then he took a single swig of the whiskey before getting up from his chair. Approaching the scared man with a shark smile. “Davon, Davon…” he stopped before the bowed henchman and cradled his face with his rough hands, firmly dictating the man to look up “There were twenty men with guns at that warehouse, and a single Spider managed to take all of you down.”
“But sir, it’s like a ghost! We couldn’t even see it before half of us were taken out. If we know—” his protest, or excuse, got shut off because of Tombstone’s hand that covers his mouth, leaving Davon in a state of pure panic; the tales about their boss’s brutality are like ghost stories.
“A ghost, huh?” Tombstone grinned menacingly at the description. “That’s all you have to say? A ghost beat y’all up?”
“Sir…”
“Sh…” Lincoln shushed his pathetic henchman before gathering him into a hug, nesting their heads against one another at the side, patting his back like cooing a child “You must be so afraid of ghosts…so much that…” with quick succession, Tombstone draw a revolver; a silver-plated .357 Smith and Wesson with black ivory grip, cocked the hammer and fired a single bullet against Davon’s head inward into himself.
The gunshot echoed inside the room as bits of brain and broken skull scattered all over the small sphere around them with only him left standing, Davon’s headless and twitching body slumped to the floor.
“…you forgot about what I would do to failures…” Alonzo finished with a grimace at the viscous grime clinging to the side of his face before picking a deformed hollow point off of his unscathed skin.
Two men rushed into the room with their guns drawn but soon holstered them upon seeing that their boss was unharmed.
“Get this shit stain out of my office,” Tombstone commanded casually before relocating himself to the nearby stand where a half-full bottle of Tennessee whiskey was situated. “…Fucking incompetence…” he sighed after another swig, then fished a phone out of his breast pocket, punched in the number “…Kincaid. We have a problem.” Tombstone said calmly with gritted teeth, looking out at the dying sunset over Manhattan’s horizon.
Tombstone grunted, squeezing the tumbler until it cracked and broke under his invincible skin, scoffing a little as he released the crumbled mess onto the floor “We’ll see about that…Ghost.” Alonzo smirked at the corner of his lips, satisfied with the title he came up with to identify the new threat to his reign over New York City.