5 | Feline Intervention
Act 1
Chapter 5
Feline Intervention
- - -
Doomstadt Castle
“How is my daughter?” Mary Storm asked without looking up from her lavish plate filled with excellent fine dining elements worthy of a queen’s treatment.
“I managed to restore her consciousness,” Victor simply replied, deciding to be honest rather than straining his brain trying to be unreasonably coy “She’ll be needing more tests and scans before I can confidently say she’s out of the woods, so to speak.”
“That’s excellent news,” Mary commented and finished chewing before continuing “Now, we must discuss the ceremony.” She averted her eyes to look at him across the long table with a hint of triumphant.
“A ceremony?” Victor stopped cutting into the lamb and glared at the aristocrat opposite him “Now?” he inquired, a hint of disbelief and ridicule graced his eyes.
“What’s better time shall we discuss it?” she challenged him and set her utensils down, joining her hands on the table’s surface before a smirk made its way onto her lips. “Better yet, I think we should be discussing this in Susan’s presence as well.”
This woman… Victor mulled furiously. Not even an ounce of care if she’s all right or not, the only thing that exists in her mind is how useful Susan is.As he observes the obvious truth, his fondness and affection for Susan only grow stronger.
“So that she can voice her preferences for the venue and such. A mother wouldn’t want to impose on the most memorable day of her daughter’s life.” She took a sip of the Symkarian Sangreal with a satisfying hum.
Susan floats alone inside the dimly lit secret chamber, her body now encased inside a more complimenting compression suit provided by Victor von Doom rather than the flimsy ceremonial garb of Atlantis. Her eyes flit alternatingly between the barren room and the giant monitor showcasing the scan results of her body and the parasite inside.
It wraps around my spinal cord and internal organs quite possessively. She observed with furrowed brows, studying the real-time sonar image. The throbbing motion of its body must be connected to that foreign mutagenic agent in my bloodstream.Yet, the transmutative process seems to be in a stalemate with the already mutated cells inside of my body.
The structure of its CNS (central nervous system) is nothing like a nudibranch, though. Almost resembling a vertebrate… a realization hits her, and a hopeful smirk graces her lips, looking intensely at the highlighted conglomeration of neuron activities that made up a glowing spot at the valley between the parasite’s rhinophores, where most organism’s brain would be located. Theoretically, the appendages and sinew-like structures sprouting from its body will be rendered limbless and, hopefully, release their grasp the moment I destroy the brain…but how? And what about the open cavity procedure? Is there an automatic surgical robot in here? She cast her eyes around and landed on the stoic guardians lining the wall surrounding her tube. Each artificial being is in hibernation and bears a façade of something she remembers from her scarce visits to the Doomstadt along with Ben and Reed regarding the Company in their early days as a ceremonial death mask of Victor’s late father, the unfeeling face made of cold and lifeless metal.
I won’t put my trust in them, but if I am to direct them to do a surgery, I must do so during the state of anesthesia when my thoughts would be pretty much suspended in place…unless…no, that’s too much of a risk already without considering the critical shock I would surely be experiencing. She weighed her options with her frantic mind…
‘I think these powers are here for a reason,’ Peter’s encouragement given to her brother entered her mind, and even the vague recollection of his voice gave her a mental boost. She closed her eyes and stretched her hands forward, concentrated against the constant whir of the machines in the chamber. ‘Let it out,’ His words continued to ring inside her mind as Susan felt a rush of power at her fingertips, a wave of goosebumps traveled across the entirety of her skin from the prolonged suppression like usual. Embracing the unexplainable nature of her powers, Susan surged forth the construct in her mind, ‘Visualize it.’ She did so by miniaturizing the construct inward into herself, mindful not to solidify its outer shell in consideration of its intricate properties. She felt a slight jolt of electricity running through herself as the force field contacted her muscles and fat underneath the skin, passing with precision through the chaotic map of her vascular system until the sonar showed a ring of glowing outline caused by the manipulation of electromagnetism that was the base of hers and Jonathan’s powers. ‘Control it.’ Like the man himself ushering her on with his ever-encouraging words, Susan took a deep breath and hardened her invisible construct after spreading its edges around the approximate location where the invasive parasite took residence and cocooning it inside her force field.
She felt a series of sharp, numbing pains shoot around inside her chest cavity as the force field slotted itself, by her command and precision, to the atomic gap between her internals and the parasite, cutting it off from its source of sustenance. Gritting her teeth with a muffled grunt, Susan strengthened the integrity of the construct and started compressing it through sheer will, crushing the parasite slowly into a drawn-out painful demise.
‘The will to do it is the most important thing,’ Peter’s voice ringing inside her head and Susan followed it like a gospel, crushing the parasite into an ever-smaller sphere until finally, the sonar showed no sign of the foreign invasive organism as its existence has been compressed so tightly into a solid ball no bigger than a pellet. With a reinforced will, Susan reshaped the tiny but condensed force field coating the pellet and elongating it into a sharp needle before forcing it out of her chest cavity with a pained grunt, using all of her mental capability to avoid damaging any internal organs in the way. The needle finally made its way out through the valley between her modest breast, and a trail of crimson followed it out of the millimeter-wide hole she’d made within herself, the condensed material made up of a super-compressed organism sinks hastily to the bottom with a satisfying clink.
In the throes of relief and triumph, Susan accidentally gasped and inhaled the sodium chloride solution inside the tube, choking herself from the rapid detoxication made possible by her domineering radiated cells neutralizing the mutagenic agent at a rapid rate.
Alarms started going off from the monitoring system reading her vitals.
“What is that?” Mary inquired curiously about the frantic alarm while Victor quickly got up from his seat and sprinted away, leaving the confused Dame at the table.
It took him nearly a minute to navigate the pathways into the secret chamber and he opened the shutter door with haste to find Susan clawing at her throat inside the tube, looking at him with panic and fear, eyes reddened and bulging.
With glances, Victor cast his eyes to the monitors and found an odd sight showing the disappearance of the parasite within her. With quick thinking, he commanded the computer to siphon the solutions out of the tube in rapid succession and Susan weakly clawed up the shear surface to access the increasing space steadily being filled with fresh air. A loud gasp in desperation for air reached his ears and Victor quickly forewent the procedure to forcing the swing sealing lid open with telekinesis, prying it off its hinges, and flung the slab of metal frame encasing a pane of thick reinforced composite material into the wall behind him with a loud crash. The fair-haired bio-chemist stumbled out through the opening while heaving in the air as if going to hyperventilate. He zoomed in and lessened her fall with his waiting arms and let her soak back pressing into his chest as he held her firm.
Tearing the intricate cloak off his back, he draped the weighted blanket around her to counter the chill air inside this sanitized chamber as Susan instinctively clutched it as if her life depended on it.
“You are a miracle, Susan.” Victor sincerely stated and a smile graced his lips as he looked at the pale face of the woman who was submerged inside the water for longer than any human ever did regaining its lovely shade of life.
The woman gets into a coughing fit and blinking her eyes irritatingly at the burning sensation. “I—”
“Save your strength,” he cooed and parted the damp hair off her face, revealing the façade haunting his dreams.
Just then, the Dame stumbled upon the scene with an audible gasp “Susan!”
When she saw her mother coming into focus, a hint of rage dashed across her face before she recomposed herself and averted her eyes to look at Victor, pleading, “Get me…out of here.” The underlying meaning of her plea registered within him, and the monarch nodded.
He gathered the covered and wrapped body of hers into his arms, light as a feather, and proceeded to stride past Mary Storm out into the corridor leading to the main building.
“Victor?! Where are you taking my daughter?!” the Dame started taking a step after them, but a Doom bot appeared from its station in the wall to block her path. “What is the meaning of this?”
“I suggest you wait in the main hall until Sire deemed it appropriate to address you, Lady Storm.” The synthetic voice rang out, demandingly, as its eyes glowed dimly in the shadows. The Dame tutted and had to comply as the bot led her into a different part of the Doomstadt.
Susan, in her moment of weakness, decided to purchase support around the back of the monarch’s neck while the side of her head nestled tiredly in the crook of his neck as he carried her with steady steps into one of the guest chambers lining the long building. He kept on until they reached the Selene suite at the end of the hallway as two Doom bots stood guard and promptly opened the doors for their master and his esteemed guest.
Victor trekked the short distance until he reached the bedside and set Susan down before pushing the cover away, allowing the woman to weakly get herself under the warmth. He softly smoothed the stray hair that plastered to her forehead away with a solemn smile, “Take some rest.”
“I’m sorry…about the cloak…” the golden-haired woman whispered tiredly, gripping the cloak as if to unwrap it before his hand stopped her from doing so.
“Nonsense, Susan. I have servants and attendants that can take care of it once you feel better,” Victor smiled at her and felt a weight lifted off his heart at the softened expression gracing her face. His palm rested against her pale face as his thumb caressed her pronounced cheekbone due to the onset stage of malnourishment caused by the parasite’s distress response. “Rest. I will have the maidens bring you a change of clothes and breakfast tomorrow,” he said with finality and smiled softly again at the little nod of her head and a sigh leaving her nose.
“Thank you…Victor…” she slurred out before drifting off to the realm of dreams, breathing in the dry air.
He sits with her until late into the early morning before retreating himself to his chamber.
- - -
Manhattan
A ring of her phone roused Janice up from her sleep, eliciting a frustrated groan from within before she angrily accept the call with a slurry huff “Who the fuck called me?!”
“…Janice…” the tone of voice and the special way her name was pronounced chase the cloud of sleep off her head as the Beetle sits up straight like being electrocuted with a cattle rod.
“Daddy?!” she blurted out, almost choking “I’m sorry for—”
“I’ll let it slide, this time,” Tombstone coldly informed her without a noticeable change in his tone, “I need you in Manhattan,”
And that was all she needed to be here at the end of Willis Avenue Bridge before turning right into Harlem. It took her almost as long as the drive from New Rochelle through the cramped road lined with cars and tents of the people who got hit by the aftermath of the flood the hardest. Global Relief Union, or GRU’s personnel and vehicles filled the walkways on both sides with volunteers and authorities working together in tandem.
Finally, she reached the unappealing warehouse on foot after parking her car four city blocks away out of precaution, the guards at the front quickly recognized her and promptly signaled the inner doorman with a specific pattern of knocking. Janice walked past them inside the warehouse, silently greeting the doorman with a nod, and proceeded into the inner hallway leading through an open space where a dozen of her father’s henchmen lounging about playing board games or sharing a drink between themselves. At the end of the hallway exists a T-intersection with the wooden door bared of any label at the center opposite her while the duo of rooms on either side have scribbles describing the purposes of their existence. A rappel of knocks drumming onto the hard surface of the left-side door revealed a grunt of acknowledgment from inside, and Janice promptly twisted the bar knob to get inside.
“You took your time,” Alonzo Lincoln greeted her coldly, his eyes never left the pile of documents on the desk as he leaned forward a little to study them behind a pair of glasses. “Any stalkers?”
“None,” Janice smilingly replied, then took a seat on the couch to the right, crossing her legs while leaning back into the cushioned foam. “How are you doing, Daddy?” as she breathed in the air, a lingering mingled scent of iron and gunpowder irritates her nostrils.
“Could be better,” Tombstone replied, finishing up the current plan he’d reviewed multiple times prior and stashed the optics into his vest’s breast pocket. “Kincaid told me you ran into some…obstacles?”
“Kate Bishop was with the Princess; I couldn’t risk involving an Avenger’s death.” The assassin with wild and untamed curls of black locks reasoned as best she could, sincerely and precisely as preferred.
“Hmm…I understand.” Alonzo got up from his chair and approached the couch, taking a rectangular bottle of single malt from the iced bucket as his daughter promptly took two tumblers in her hands, offering them to him while Tombstone twisted the cap open. “However, I think I have another job that requires your…talents more than that here.”
“Oh?” she sits up straighter, feeling the weight of the couch shift as her father sits near, their glasses nursed in their hands as his sharp and demanding eyes bore into hers.
“Simple job, an extermination of pests, if you will.” He explained vaguely, enjoying the veiled nature of the conversation “There’s a warehouse in Hell’s Kitchen that belonged to me until recently a little Spider decided to crawl in and mess with some decorations.” He then took out a folded paper and handed it to her.
Janice confusedly took the parchment and carefully unfolded it to reveal a jagged sketch of a masked vigilante, similar to Spider-Man but not at the same time. “Another one?” her father nodded at the question with a grunt.
“It might as well be the same one that botched your job in Boston,” He retorted with a clear disappointment. He looked at her, expectantly, without a hint of affection she sought after.
“…I’ll get it done, Daddy,” Janice announced with a confident smirk, hindered a little by the lack of encouragement.
- - -
Peter detached from his web in a downward arch before latching his sticky feet and palms on the side of a borrowed GRU truck Nathan Goldstein allowed them to be used as a transport for the incubating tank housing the altered body of Hammerhead towards the Baxter Building. A thud from the other side of the truck averted his attention and he met with Gwen in her white spider suit taking a similar landing as his with albeit less grace and confidence in her powers. “Oops!” she exclaimed against the rushing wind, clawing her fingers in an attempt to purchase a more secure grip on the metal hull.
“Don’t panic!” he yelled encouragingly “Focus!”
Gwen, under her white mask and magenta-rimmed eyes, nodded frantically and eventually relaxed her hands. “Okay!” her unsure tone elicited a snicker out of him.
“Relax, Gw—” he cleared his throat with a startle, “Spider-Woman. The adhesion force is more than enough to keep us in place.”
“You sure?” she inquired loudly, mindful to compensate for the fleeting stream of wind that might deafen their voices.
“I once stuck to a spacecraft reaching escape velocity from Earth’s gravitational pull,” he retorted with a little smug, “So, yeah. I’m pretty sure.” He decided to demonstrate further by sticking to the truck with only one hand, effectively doing a handstand. “See?”
With that visual affirmation, Gwen gradually relaxed her muscles until the strain was almost gone and she was still firmly attached to the metal hull. “…okay.” She let out the breath unknowingly being held and looked up to see her boyfriend repositioned to sit casually on the flat plane of the cargo, offering her a hand. Gwen took it with a lighter mind and felt herself being pulled towards the vigilante in red and black, playing a vivid contrast to her color scheme.
“Better?” he asked coyly, the outline of a smirk shown under his red mask.
“I guess,” Gwen replied with less nervousness, sitting down beside him and looking ahead in the direction that the truck was heading. “You do this often?”
“Escort mission?”
She only nods.
“Only when there were enhanced criminals involved, but not sitting on top of the truck like this.” He craned his neck and cast his eyes to the surrounding buildings, pointing for her like a tour guide “Usually I’ll just swing along at a distance, so if something happens, I can jump right in.”
“Now I see why at first the police weren’t your fan,” Gwen smirked as she addressed him. “You trail alongside them as they are doing their jobs, jumping in when bad situations happen. Not only do they have to do more paperwork because of your involvement, but the public image also went to hell when they had to rely on your interventions to get the job done.”
“That’s…yeah, I guess.” He slumped playfully and Gwen chuckled heartily before nudging his shoulder with the side of her head as she rocked from side to side. “But it worked out in the end, right?”
“After Damage Control offered to cover collateral damages, sure.”
“Yeah, Rhodey came in clutch with that one,” Peter replied with a sigh. He felt a hand firmly planted on his back, caressing a soothing pattern into his skin through the Adaptive Fabric, dawning a sense of appreciation inside his chest.
“So, what’s the plan, Spider-Man?” Gwen started after a short recollection of his solemn mind.
“Usually if there would be an ambush, the attack should be from the front for non-sensitive equipment or cash,” he reasoned with his experiences with a concerning tone “But, assuming whoever there will be knows of the type of transport inside the cargo, they might be from around the back, trying to stop the truck without totaling it or risk damaging the merchandise.” As he elaborated, he looked at the receding scenery behind the moving truck. “You get the front; I’ll watch our flank.”
Knowing better than to challenge him regarding something she’s more inexperienced in, Gwen complied as she crawled towards the helm, trying to spread the unnatural spatial awareness that is the most abstract aspect in her arsenal for any hidden threat in the scenery. Soon, a caravan of engine whirs reached her ears along with a stir of Spider-Sense and Gwen snapped her eyes toward the general direction with disbelief and confusion “Now?!”
“Shoulda guessed…” Peter grunted annoyingly at the incoming flock of OSCORP’s weaponized drones, dubbed lovingly as the Sparrows regarding the avian species’ preferable palates including spiders. He quickly activated the comms inside his mask “Mind if I play with the birds a bit?”
“Be my guest!” with her confirmation, Spider-Man jumped into the air before reeling himself into the leading drone with a powerful slingshot kick that destroyed it in one strike. Gwen watched on as Peter nimbly maneuvered himself around the drones with a couple of webbing shots and superhuman agility, taking each down with decisive strikes until the truck turned a corner and only the sound of a small explosion could be heard with her enhanced ears.
The ride would be relatively uneventful for her since the collaboration between OSCORP and Thunderbolts doesn’t expand from their mutual goal of apprehending Spider-Man…if not for the sharp scream of Spider-Sense coming from her right and instinct dictated the Spider-Woman to get out of the hyper-velocity sharpened rod of steel zooming in to where she was mere instance ago, embedding into the composite material with its force. Gwen quickly whipped her face toward the direction before Spider-Sense blared again and forced her to get out of the trajectory with instinctive contortion, yet lacking more refinement one of the rods managed to graze her outer right thigh, drawing blood. Then she saw it.
The familiar glowing angular eyes and the violet exoskeleton gained speed and lessened the distance between them. Two outstretched arms aiming at her in general with gauntlets.
The Beetle had, somehow, followed her and Aña from Boston.
With a lapse in her focus, Gwen almost didn’t evade another railgun-propelled rod aimed at her center of mass. Spider-Woman pirouetted out of the trajectory with a quick snap of her wrist aiming the front of a Web-Shooter locked onto the speeding Beetle before completing the circuit with her middle and ring finger firmly pressed onto the trigger, sending a stream of synthetic webbing as retaliation; feeling a slight taut sensation, Gwen quickly grabbed the webbing within her fist and pulled with superhuman strength to deviate the Beetle’s trajectory to the side.
Janice tutted annoyingly as she was about to clash with the metallic hull of the truck before managing to tuck herself into a ball in the hope of letting the paddings and composite materials take the bulk of the impact, and also trigger the automated folding mechanism of her wings. A loud thud sounded from where she was slammed into before another ‘thwip’ came and a taut line of webbing connected to her jetpack before a pull was established and she was yanked away again.
Gwen, capitalizing on her superior strength, uses the weight of the Beetle at the end of her webbing like a kettlebell and swings the exo-suited assassin around, gaining more momentum with each revolution before releasing her grip to propelling the Beetle into the building at the side. “Spider-Man?! The convoy’s being ambushed!” Gwen yelled into the comms, trusting Edith to deliver her message to the more experienced vigilante who was occupied with the relentless drones.
“A little bit occupied here, Spider-Woman—Oh, I know you!” Peter’s voice grunted through the comms, and a huff made its way through before he added “Keep them off the convoy as long as you can!”
Gwen huffed in annoyance after her eyes fell upon the speeding form of the Beetle tailing the truck again, she quickly rushed to the front and knocked on the driver’s window before it rolled down “Can we go any faster?”
“Not possible, ma’am; the load was too heavy.” The driver answered with his eyes never once left the road.
“Damnit…” Gwen cursed under her breath and maneuvered her body out of the fired bolt onto the roof, lowering herself into a crawl to minimize the available targets. “Guess I’m doing this!” Gwen pounced into the air with a planned corkscrew to follow the warnings of the Spider-Sense, evading the valley of bolts that can shatter bones as one already did to Officer Morello of BPD. Following her intuitions, Spider-Woman aimed and shot a line of webbing at a streetlight nearby to create a pivot before delivering a heavy double kick into the rushing Beetle’s helmet, missing the center by an inch but connected firmly, nonetheless. Using the face of her enemy as a springboard, Gwen pushed with both feet and introduced a gap between them before latching another web line on the truck, reeling herself in to stay with it.
Spider-Sense blared again as Gwen dodged to her left before a tackle came from behind, and blindsided her unnatural awareness using a feint attack. The Beetle quickly established their superior techniques in hand-to-hand combat as several punches, kicks, and elbows connected to the superhuman’s ribs and sides kneading her like a dough. Gwen gritted through the substantial amount of pain ramming into her body from the lapse of Spider-Sense caused by the surprise, but eventually, she could somewhat follow the attacks and deliver a series of decent counters utilizing her superior brute force against the mechanical enhancements of the assassin. Both women exchanged blows and counters for a moment before the Beetle decided to sneak in some close-range projectile with her twin railguns. Several spiked bolts shot high and low, grazing and missing the superhuman in their struggle on top of the moving truck.
Gwen strained herself almost to the limit trying to incorporate every Judo and Jiu-Jitsu move she’d ever learned under NYPD and Yuri Watanabe’s tutelages to try and keep up with the trained fighter opposite her, culminating injuries, albeit shallow and inconsequential, over time. The only advantage she had was the Spider-Sense, but that requires more attunement on her part to be as fluid as her boyfriend. Utilizing her stronger and more resilient muscles, Gwen decided to change her tactic to tank whatever she could while looking for a slip-up or opening that the Beetle might be unknowingly presenting during their scuffle.
A fist came from her left, so she instinctively evaded to the right just to be clocked squarely in her jaw by a blindsiding uppercut following the feint jab. Losing her balance, Gwen got tackled and flipped with an impressive Taekwondo throw into the metallic roof of the cargo, knocking the wind off her lungs. Spider-Sense screams deafeningly in her brain, and she manages to keep her face from being caved with a piercing bolt that goes through the hull into the space inside of the cargo. Spider-Woman wraps her legs around the Beetle and pulls her closer before shooting a spray of webbing into the assassin’s face with her free hand gripping the protruding antenna firmly, and delivers a strong push kick dead at the assassin’s stomach, knocking them back and down on one knee.
While the Beetle clawed at the webbing to tear them off, Gwen rushed in with superhuman dexterity made possible by the level of Adrenaline circulating her system to flip overhead and land behind the assassin in one smooth transition before delivering a spinning roundhouse kick at the side of their head, sending the Beetle stumbled to the edge of the cargo’s roof.
Before falling over, Janice desperately sprung claws out of her gloves to find a purchase on the cargo, pulling herself up again before shooting another bolt at the superhuman who managed to piss her off thoroughly. She continued to rain all of her remaining bolts at the woman before gaining a closer distance than before, capitalizing on the apparent fact that the white spider was lacking in martial arts. She jabbed to distract the superhuman before discreetly activating the taser surface on the knuckles and diving in to focus her barrage on boxing and MMA.
Jabs. Hooks. Straights. Feints and Uppercuts.
Everything had been squeezed out and some were successful at connecting with the inexperienced vigilante, a moment later it seemed like the assassin might be gaining an upper hand as the Spider started getting slower in responses and subconsciously making a retreat rather than pushing for a win.
Cakewalk. Janice thought with a sadistic grin as she intensified her assaults, mindful of the last pair of bolts chambered inside of her gauntlets.
Gwen gritted her teeth through the relentless attacks she has been on the receiving end of, guarding more than trying to retaliate out of instinctual uncertainty in her ability to do so. She was never a fighter of any pedigree; she only knew the basics but never participated in a death match against someone who was, clearly, determined to kill her like this. The strikes felt more painful as the number of hits culminated until she stumbled over a ridge of the cargo onto her back.
“Pathetic.” The Beetle jeered with disdain and smug before aiming the barrel of railguns at the superhuman’s chest, mindful not to miss the killing shot. A sense of danger tugged at the back of her mind, but Janice was a little bit too late to address it as a powerful kick connected to the side of her head, almost dislocating her vertebrae as she plummeted off the roof and crashed into the wall of a building there.
In her slowed perception, Gwen saw Peter land in a crouch where the Beetle previously was with his lenses narrowed dangerously into thin slots, betraying his mood. He shot himself off the truck with twin web lines and slammed his knees into the Beetle so hard it dented and cratered the wall behind the assassin. He webbed the slumping exoskeleton-wearing criminal up inside it with the rest of his web fluid before depositing a small device on top of it, then he shot a web with the other Web-Shooter that still housed some synthetic webbing to land gracefully on the roof. He rushed toward her as she was getting herself up, her heart racing inside her chest, rattling around like a caged animal.
“Gwen?!” he gathered her face between his hands, glaring worriedly to gauge if she was responsive or not “Gwen, talk to me.”
“That was too close,” She uttered with a raspy voice, groaning a little from the bruises on her ribcage courtesy of the murderous beatdown she’d received recently. “Ouch…that motherfucker was not playing around.”
Peter let out a sigh of relief before resting his forehead against hers, breathing in the air surrounding Spider-Woman with a slight quivering. “You alright?”
“I think my ribs are cracked,” She hissed between winces of pain as she tried to move, “Ooh…that was a nasty beatdown.”
“Stay still, okay?” Peter touched the side of his mask, “Edith.” He simply commanded and the AI who is well-attuned to his commands did a bio-scan immediately. “Several hairlines on the fourth, fifth, seventh, eighth, and eleventh ribs.”
“Great…” she cooed at the sharp jolt of pain shooting up with the bumps on the road that the truck went over.
“They will heal in about an hour, don’t worry.” He encouraged her as best he could.
“How in the hell did you do it every night?” Gwen meekly winced, opting to just lie down on her back.
“Mostly I just had to,” he replied with a little chuckle, then his Spider-Sense went off again as the whirs of another flock of Sparrow drones turned a corner, pursuing him “If only I get a nickel for every weaponized drone that I’m taking out…” he frustratingly grunted and looking down at his female counterpart with apologetic eyes “You’re gonna be okay, Babe?”
“Yeah…I’m fine. Just gotta…lie down a bit.” She gave him a thumbs up and Peter leaped in the air again and started attacking the led drone with a devastating uppercut that tore his fist straight through the composite hull, destroying the inner electronics.
Spider-Man reeled himself into the second drone using his remaining webbing as a slingshot before kicking the hunk of composite parts away to the side, hurling it into the streetlight pole at an accelerated speed, folding the drone in half. He palmed his hand on the third to execute a scissor kick to the fourth and the fifth before crushing the hull under his overwhelming grip force. Throwing the third into the sixth drone like he was Captain America, Peter used the chance to pop out the emptied cartridge from his Web-Shooter but had to contort his way out of the ramming seventh drone, taking a nosedive down towards the streets before abruptly disrupting own momentum with a shot of a web line to arched to the side into a pendulum, sending himself higher over the flock where he twisted and sprouted the Symbiote tentacles armed with jagged sword-like tips and pierced the remaining drones with deadly precision without covering his iconic suit in a layer of abyssal shadow.
Peter latched one tentacle to the truck before it made a turn and pulled himself into the moving vehicle with his prehensile appendage. “How long do you reckon until they send another flock for me?” the tentacles receded as he walked toward Gwen without addressing the Eldrich-like alien organism living in symbiosis within his body.
“With your luck? Five minutes top.” Gwen extended her hand for him to pull her up, and his hand naturally snaked to rest at the valley of her waist, firmly keeping her against his side. “I think I’ll take you up on that deep-tissue massage, Pete…” Gwen said with a groan, feeling like a battered Piñata,
“Fu…ck!” Janice groaned painfully at the ache all over her body just from a single strike lovingly given to her by the male Spider, if not for the paddings and armors provided by the Beetle suit, she might have already been dead or permanently paralyzed by now. “Yep! That’s broken ribs…shit!” She tried to move but found the webbing too resilient and elastic to pull apart with her limited movement. Looking to the side, she saw the Arachnid swing high into the air above the flock of drones before spurting four black tentacles out of his back, lancing the remaining drones like shish kebabs. “What the fuck…” she exclaimed in bewilderment. Seeing the truck turning a corner, Janice wrestled with difficulty to activate the comms around the collar of her chest armor. Not long after that, a black van pulled up and quickly cut her down from the trap before speeding away from the incoming sirens of NYPD.
- - -
Doomstadt
Susan fluttered open her eyes to the ray of sunshine filtering in from the window casting its warmth at her face. Looking around the room she found a couple of handmaidens, surely sent by Victor, standing quietly at the doors awaiting her awakening. The sore and aches dissipated overnight, thankfully, and the comfortable warmth of Victor’s cloak had deepened her sleep.
Feeling well-rested, Susan sat up and stretched against the chill air circulating the suite before beckoning the maidens to do what they’d been instructed. They helped her get out of the compression suit and in a warm bath, then she’d requested a little trim of her long hair until her golden mane rested just shy of her elbow. Next was the breakfast, and Victor had never been stingy with the quality ingredients and exquisite tastes as she filled her growling stomach with some of the menus she'd never even seen or tasted before despite the mind-boggling extravagance practiced by her mother in her childhood. Being led to a partitioned alcove, Susan decided to let the maidens pamper and stuffed her inside an intricately white flowery dress with a blue bodice gilded with golden threads into a symbol of the Von Doom family crest.
She’s much preferring a simple shirt paired with a pair of trousers, but alas decided to indulge the monarch’s theatric tendency a little as he’d awoken her from an eternal slumber.
A collection of jewelry crafted from silver and gemstones has been offered for her to choose from, ranging from earrings to headdresses. Susan sighed and picked a necklace depicting a star weaved inside a basket of silvery vines, mainly to blend the gauze covering the exit wound of the condensed parasite on her chest away from passing glances.
As she seated and let one of the two dress her hair, she proposed a question “Can I borrow your mobile?” the handmaiden showed a little surprise on her face but then smiled apologetically into the mirror.
“Apologies, Milady, but we do not have them.”
“Oh. That’s unfortunate.” The biochemist grumbled to herself; she wanted to contact Peter or Gwen as soon as possible. She felt a light tug on her hair when the maiden was finishing up the last braid and decoration, then they retreated with a low bow towards the doors.
“Susan!” a voice calling her name came from the side, and it took every ounce of will inside herself not to flinch at it.
I’ll give you hell for this, brother… she mulled and reluctantly turned towards the source to be met with the woman she had thought she would never have to lay eyes upon ever again. “…Mother.” The title said with such a distance that the Dame approaching her shows displeasure on her aged face.
“Come now, Susan,” Mary Storm exclaimed, keeping a smile on while closing the distance between herself and her estranged and runaway daughter “Is that a way to show your gratitude?”
“I believe I’ve shown you plenty in my youth,” Susan dismissively answered and was about to continue on her path toward the garden when her mother’s hand wrapped tightly around her arm, keeping her in place. “…Let go of me.”
“It pains me to see how low your brother has dragged you to his level.” Mary Storm hissed with seething venom, tightening her grip. “My precious little girl…” she attempted to coerce her daughter similar to when she was just an impressionable girl again, but found an invisible barrier preventing her hand from touching the side of Susan’s face, and a moment later her fingers were forced to release its grip by a growing force field expanding out of her daughter.
“Don’t you dare,” One of the four mutated demanded calmly while she was maintaining the force field with an iron will “Jonathan is a better family than you’ll ever be. Do not insult him!” Susan glared at her mother with a never-before-seen ferocity and a hint of hatred. She caged her mother inside a prison of invisible construct before taking off towards her destination, ignoring the muffled shouts and calls from behind with red-rimmed eyes and a threat of brimming tears.
She reached a room where one of the maidens informed her about, supposedly Victor’s study. Susan dared a rap of knocks before waiting for any acknowledgment inside, and soon the doors swung open by two robots gripping the handles, revealing the monarch standing over his desk and fashioning a look of deep focus, unaware of her presence as of now. She coughed audibly to gain his attention, and the frown on his face dissipated masterfully after their eyes were met.
“I see you’ve been up and about,” Victor greeted her warmly and motioned her to the side table as he rounded the desk to approach the same area. “You look quite stunning, Susan.” He complimented her breathlessly before taking her hand and holding it until she was seated comfortably on the cushioned couch, then he took a seat next to her, separated by a foot of gap between them.
“Thank you,” Susan replied with a tired smile, taking a deep breath before addressing the monarch “I would like to say that I am grateful, and if there’s anything I can do to repay the debt—”
“Nonsense,” Doom cut her off with a lighthearted chuckle, waving his hand dismissively. “Although, you might be inclined to know that I am aiming to celebrate your recovery in the next three nights with a gala, if you don’t mind, of course.”
“It’s a bit much,” she teased, “but I would like to attend.” Susan smiled at him and saw joy painted across his face.
“Excellent.” He commented, then a mischievous grin tugged at his lips, “and you can repay me by honoring me with a dance when the time comes. What do you say?”
She’s not stupid.
She knows that although she’d made it clear to the public at large that she’s in a relationship with a Peter Parker already, Victor von Doom will always try to pursue her when he sees fit.
For him, the answer to come might sound like a spark of hope.
But to her, it is just a friendly gesture aiming to show the gratitude she felt for his dedication to saving her from an unknown fate.
“Of course, Victor. I’d be glad to,” she said with a reserved smile, hoping he would not read too much into things.
A hopeless endeavor, one might say.
“…Does her presence here irritate you in any way?” he inquired, implying to the Dame. “If so, merely say the word, and I will have her escorted to the Little Palace at once.”
Susan huffed a stunted chortle, looking at the monarch with a hint of sadness “…I see you’ve had the chance to get to know her better?”
“Unfortunately,” he replied with a smirk. “So?”
“…It’s…fine, she can stay.” the golden-haired woman replied with a resigned hum “She might throw a tantrum otherwise.”
“As you wish.” Victor nodded, sitting in silence and enjoying the side profile of Susan as she cast her blue eyes outward to the distance scenery outside the confined of the Doomstadt and his study.
Her round and expressive eyes, a pair of sapphire stars hidden partially underneath a veil of thick and long eyelashes, harboring deep-seated sadness and pain.
Her nose was the embodiment of perfection, shapely and sporting just the right amount of curvature to it.
Her lips, full and inviting, are often painted with caring and warm smiles that can brighten even the darkest corner of the world, beckoning those who gaze upon them to seek the sweetness within. A sweetness that he craved and longed for, almost to the point that self-control felt like a restraint crafted by the gods themselves to keep his hunger caged.
The teasers and glimpses she had bestowed upon his soul back when a certain Peter Parker was not in the picture left him with a burning desire that he’d never thought possible.
He must have her.
But Susan was not a mere tramp he could take without a care in the world.
She deserves utmost respect, and he will not violate the trust established between them throughout years of acquaintanceship. It will be too harrowing a price to pay for a gratifying satisfaction.
He must earn her love.
In any way he can.
“Victor…” Susan started, slowly turning to look at him, and Victor felt like an eternity was lost in those sapphire blues. “I was wondering if you could somehow let me borrow a mobile?” the question came with a plea.
“A phone shall be brought to your quarter shortly. Please wait.” A Doom bot informed her and closed the doors, leaving Susan inside the suite alone.
She quickly shed the bodice with a sigh of relief before taking a seat near the window, overlooking the bustling town outside of the castle’s walls. Thin smoke rises from the chimneys of numerous households, carrying the smell of life through the air. She was captivated in a trance, so much so that she didn’t register a rustling sound as someone clad in black dropped softly from the ceiling.
It was not until the faceless figure leaned on the windowsill near her that Susan noticed the stranger with a startle, almost hurling a barrier at the person out of instinct if not for that sultry giggle at the expense of her embarrassment.
“Wish I had a camera with me,” the woman under a faceless mask lightheartedly commented before hopping to sit on the windowsill, dangling her legs leisurely. “Enjoying yourself?”
“…Black Cat?” Susan inquired, confused and curious as to why the infamous thief, who seemed to be at the receiving end of her boyfriend’s bias when it comes to criminals in his vigilantism, is here of all places “What are you doing here?”
“Will you believe me if I say that I was boring?” Felicia retorted with a smirk and pulled the mask off her face, revealing the tight bundle of her platinum hair and a bared face devoid of any makeup to be smeared by the compressing fabric “Breaking into and trolling around inside von Doom’s house sounds like fun, and some of the decorations look mighty profitable, too.” Felicia then averted her eyes at the stunned blonde before showing a mischievous smirk “What about you? Already fed up with Spider?”
Susan furrowed her brows irritatingly as her eyes narrowed dangerously, glaring dagger at the teasing feline before her. “Wouldn’t you like that to be true, Miss Hardy?”
Felicia only chuckled amusedly at the animosity shown, waving the defensive bite off before, “I’m not judging! I mean, the guy’s a king!” she gestured towards their surroundings, pointing and motioning for the lavish decorations lining the suite’s interior. “Somebody can live like a queen here!”
“That somebody would not be me!” Susan exclaimed heatedly, furiously, and defensively. “I do not seek wealth and monetary satisfaction, Miss Hardy. That might be an unearthly concept for you, I fear.”
Wow. She’s pissed. Felicia mused internally with a surviving smirk. What is it with you, Spider? The platinum-blonde proposed a question, partly to herself. “Whatever you say,” she raised a conceding gesture before looking out the window as well, confusing the blonde further. It took Felicia another minute before she continued speaking, “You trust Doom to keep his words?”
“What?”
“About giving you a phone?”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
“Really?” Felicia looked at Susan with ridicule “You are telling me that someone like Victor von Doom would waste a substantial amount of his treasury on you out of the kindness of his heart?”
“He might have a different idea about the extent of our companionship, true, but it does not mean I am compelled to reciprocate the feelings he harbored for me.” Susan firmly retorted chin jutted high and eyes sharp with determination, allowing the Black Cat to challenge her again.
Daring anyone to doubt her devotion. Daring anyone to question the resilience of her love.
Eventually, Felicia saw the unbreakable resolve behind those eyes and relented, signaling a defeat with a little chuckle. “Alright, alright. Message received.” Then, Black Cat produced a device from behind like a magician's sleight of hand, presenting it to the confused woman, “A satphone, just in case.”
Susan took the device in hand with unsure movement, curious about the Cat Burglar’s intention. She carefully inspected the phone with occasional glances at the platinum-blonde until the question could not be tamed anymore: “Why?”
“For information,” Felicia blatantly replied, playing a grin upon her exquisitely beautiful face “I want to know what Doom is planning. Some kind of gathering? Where his generals and ranking officers might be attending?” Black Cat followed with a set of leading questions, urging the biochemist to play along.
“Why the sudden interest?” Susan hesitantly countered, looking at the woman before her with apprehensive eyes.
“Family matters.” Felicia allowed that much.
“…So, it’s true,” Susan said after a moment of recollection, “You are related to the Symkarian royalty.” She thought back to the revelation she’d read from her boyfriend’s text almost a lifetime ago.
“What’s left of it.” Felicia shrugged. “The only Sablinova left is my half-sister, and we need every advantage we can get our hands on to keep my mother’s home out of Doom’s grasp.”
The silence stretched for a while, with Susan weighing the satellite phone in her hand and Felicia sitting in anticipation, waiting for an answer.
“…He’s planning a gala.” Finally, Susan breathed out the information and averted her eyes to the town below again.
“What’s the occasion?” Felicia, intrigued and elated, shifted a little in her seat to lean closer. Then, she saw the other girlfriend of Spider-Man turning to mirror her stare, harboring a tiny smirk on her lips with a quirked eyebrow. “…Oh! Damn! Talk about a grand gesture!” the comment finally managed to elicit a short laugh out of the blonde. “When?”
“In three days.”
“Hmm…” Felicia hums, contemplating, “It might be a bit tight, but I think I can manage.” Then, Black Cat flipped over the windowsill to crouch against the outer wall, looking at the blonde with a smirk again “Just a little favor; If you call him, tell him to land in Caransebeș. I’ll take care of the rest.” Without giving the blonde time to stop her, Felicia leaped backward into an arch before shooting her hook to the nearby rampart and swinging away.
Susan watched as the lithe frame of Black Cat disappeared from her sight and contemplated the choices that she had made earlier with a sigh. Quickly, after a minute of recollection, she punched in the number and waited.
Ring…
Ring…
Ring…
Her heart started racing, thinking Peter might not pick it up due to the unfamiliar contact.
Her breathing hitched at the slight click sound, signifying an acceptance. Then… “Hello?”
She took in a deep, ragged breath, feeling a grip on her heart.
“Um, hello? Who’s this?” His voice sounded out groggily with a hint of playfulness, “Look, I already have an insurance plan. I don’t have a car to get its warranty extended or something. So, if you agree to try and come up with something new, just call me again in an hour, okay?”
“…Peter?” She whispered with a quivering voice. The other end goes silent almost immediately after a sharp inhalation of air that can be heard; she can almost feel the disbelief laced within it. “Peter? It’s me, darling.” Susan squeezed out with a single joyful tear running down the side of her face.
“…Sue?” her name rolling off of his tongue was the final push, and Susan started sobbing quietly in tremendous relief. “Sue?! Susan?!” there’s a commotion on his end, almost like he tripped over something.
“Yes. I’m here,” she replied, tearily with a smile, biting her lower lip to stifle a whimper “I’m here, Peter.”
“Where?! Wait, more importantly, are you okay?” he grunted and sounded like he was untangling himself from whatever it was he knocked over “Are you hurt? Is the parasite still inside? Are there any concerning physical changes? Is—”
“Slow down, love,” Susan couldn’t help but giggle along his ramble, deeply touched. “I’m fine, and the parasite has been dealt with.” She took a deep and refreshing breath, feeling a renewed hope entering her chest. “As to where I am in Latveria.”
“Latveria? Isn’t that...”
“Do not get any funny ideas,” she reprimanded him playfully, sensing the direction his racing mind might take him. “Victor helped me regain my consciousness, and I am his guest, but nothing more.” She firmly addressed, demanding.
“Alright.” His answer came a bit hesitant, but Susan let it slide, “I’m gonna book a flight to Latveria now,”
“Wait,” she stopped him and heard his hum of curiosity before speaking, “Caransebeș.”
“Caran—what now?”
“Caransebeș; it’s an airport. Felicia Hardy asked me to inform you that you should head there instead.” A mumble came, likely him talking to his AI assistant.
“That’s almost three hours away from Latveria.” He commented with utter confusion.
“She sounds…adamant for you to follow her instructions,” Susan added, her brows drawn.
“Huh. Maybe she just wanna get some dates in?”
“Peter Park—” she lowly hissed, practically hearing a playful smirk gracing his lips.
“I know, I know. Just kidding around.” He playfully replied, his voice also lightened as if a mountain had been lifted “Imma look for a flight to Romania as soon as possible.”
“You go do that, Mister Parker.” She giggled softly, teasing him with the tone she adopted earlier when he interned with the company. “…I miss you.” She quietly prayed into the sunlit breeze.
“You have no idea…” he whispered to the intimacy between them. “I love you, Sue.”
“Me too,” she smiled warmly into an empty spot, imagining him standing there.
“You loved yourself too?” he joked, finding the stress washed off his mind little by little.
“I will hang up right now.” She retorted, grinning joyously.
“Please don’t,” he cackles and pleas, “Can you hold a little? I’m gonna get Gwen.”
“You are in Boston?”
“Nope. The Baxter.” He replied simply before another round of shuffle and ruffle entered the connection.
“What is she doing at the Baxter—” Susan grunted as a screeching scream entered her ear, and the phone got fried in her hand. Soon, an explosion sounded from nearby, followed by commotions and shouts, orders being barked, and confusion filled the air.
Susan quickly throws the satphone out the window as the latches on the doors creak, just before the monarch marches inside, looking alarmed and concerned, casting his worried eyes her way. “Susan, are you harmed in any way?” he approached her quickly, his eyes roaming her for any injuries.
“No, Victor. I’m fine,” she replied, brows furrowed curiously “What happened?”
“An attack. From the Symkarian rebels.” He said breathlessly, checking her for injuries all over again for the second time. “They took out the communication center.”
“Oh, that’s horrible!” Susan gasped, concerns lining her features “Anybody get hurt?”
“Possibly the soldiers stationed there and the technicians,” Victor growled, a flow of rage coursing through his entire being. His fists clenched tightly, shaking from wrath. “I apologize for barging in like this, but I have to make sure you are safe.”
“I understand, Victor,” Susan replied with an understanding nod. Nevertheless, Doom apologized again for failing to provide her with a functioning phone, as every communication device in Latveria was now rendered useless. In her mind, she thought back to the seed of mistrust planted carefully by Felicia Hardy regarding the lengths that Victor von Doom might go to prevent her from contacting the outside world.