Variant Strain

- - -

Cletus had taken the lead as they'd walked. Some of the tunnels they'd had to pass through following Jessica's enthusiastic phantom weren't wide enough to allow them to walk other than single file.

Every so often they would pass clumps of drones hurrying past them through the tunnels. Busy with whatever tasks they might have had. Most simply clambered up the wall to let Peter and his group past without stopping.

The ghostly Jessica didn't seem to notice or acknowledge that Peter, Cletus and Donna were three different people. Although, strictly speaking, Peter wasn't absolutely certain if that was true.

He was certain the "Donna" with him was nothing at all like the original Donna had been before he'd consumed her. This one was an amalgamation of many different minds and put together by his own mind to serve some sort of function. Same for Cletus. In no way was the smirking redhead striding with Peter the same vicious serial killer that had been turned into a Tracker.

So they were... what then?

Emulations, Connors whispered. Each of those bodies is as much Peter Parker as... well, I am.

But you aren't, Peter thought back.

Aren't I? Am I actually what's left of Kurt Connors, or am I your own voice filtered through the bits of his memory that you retained from consuming him?

"This is getting existential." Peter murmured aloud.

"You mean booooooring," Cletus caroled.

The knowledge you can't handle, I deal with. I'm a coping mechanism. Nothing more. A simulated Connors to speak for the knowledge you have that you can't deal with directly. When the time comes, I'll simply stop speaking because you won't need me. Same goes for Cletus. Same goes for Cain.

But how sure are we you can't be a person in your own right? Peter asked thoughtfully.

I'm sure there's a better venue for arguing the nature of personality and identity than down here, Cain muttered back.

They were walking around in an undeground cavern beneath Manhattan that by all rights shouldn't have existed anymore. Peter knew from Hank Pym's memories that the particular tunnels they were in should have collapsed when Gentek Tower had.

They were already out of the rough stone tunnels and were now in the more regular cement corridors beneath where the tower had been. Schematics flitting through Peter's mind's eye showed him exactly where the hidden explosives in those halls were and if he concentrated, he could even smell where the C-4 was embedded.

So... someone prevented Gentek Tower's complete collapse. He suspected that had contributed to Jessica's continued survival.

"Not for much longer, kiddo," Cletus replied, then laughed.

"Why are you so happy?" Peter asked after a moment, unable to keep the irritation from his voice.

"Breathing!" Cletus declared, throwing both hands up into the air. "Gosh-darned breathing! You don't know what you're missing out til you've had to share lungs with a bunch of other people."

Donna rolled her eyes dismissively.

Peter frowned slightly. "The Hydra smell doesn't bother you at all?"

Cletus shook his head, "Nope. And I know what you're talking about cause I remember what that stuff smells like. Over here, it just smells kinda musty."

Donna shook her head, "I don't smell it either."

Connors offered. They don't sense Hydra directly. We didn't build it in.

It's not necessary for them, Cain rumbled. If need be this body's senses can do it for them.

"So, hold on... I'm doing the Hydra sensing for everyone?" Peter's frown deepened. "And I can't turn that off?"

I'm doing the sensing. Cain responded flatly, but there was a note of creeping horror in his voice as he added, Do you want us to get caught off guard?

Peter sighed.

Cletus laughed at that as they turned a corner. He kept laughing as he side-stepped around the silently floating drone in the center of the corridor. Donna also just ducked under it without acknowledging it, but Peter stopped dead in his tracks.

Donna and Cletus both stopped as well, then turned to glance back at him.

"What's the matter?" Donna asked curiously.

"Uh... you guys don't see that?" Peter asked slowly, pointing at the floating drone. The glowing red lines on its matte black surface washing both their faces out and making them look like they were covered in bright red blood.

"See what?" Cletus frowned.

Cain made a half-growled inquisitive noise then said, Hold on. Cross-sharing sense impressions.

To Peter's eyes, it almost seemed like it had faded out of view. A sort of not-quite-there optical illusion of something being seen only by a single eye... or in this case a single pair of eyes out of a total of six.

Donna took a step back from the drone as though seeing it for the first time. "When did--?"

Cletus swore luridly and also stepped away.

"For that matter, why am I not smelling it?" Peter frowned at the drone and took a deeper whiff.

He caught the scent the second time around. That greasy, disgusting, ozone-tainted carrion-rot of whatever variant Oscorp was using for Hydra. It was faint at first, but the more he concentrated the clearer it became.

"Did that thing hide its scent?" Peter asked, staring at the half-visible drone.

"More'n that. It was invisible to us." Cletus growled.

Donna nodded, half-reaching out with her gun-arm to poke at the drone. The bone blade made a soft, dull clank on contact with the plastic material covering the drone. It dipped away from the contact, but then resumed its spot.

Cain made a few more thoughtful noises. That's... interesting.

"What is?" Peter murmured aloud.

Connors spoke up, Cain handles our expanded senses. All the additional sensory data that would overwhelm a normal 'human' mind are filtered through him.

I don't like that you had to add quote marks to that. Peter thought back.

"So are we saying this is Cain's fault?" Cletus chuckled.

The Beck we consumed, Connors explained dryly, When it was incorporated into our sensorium it gave us a stronger connection to Jessica. Strong enough to directly speak and see her at a distance.

Peter caught on. Or he already knew since Connors knew but had now consciously acknowledged the idea. What he 'knew' had become a much more confusing concept given how compartmentalized his mind was.

"Jessica's specific viral strain is affected by what Oscorp's using." He said aloud. "Their strain of the virus makes infected with Jessica's strain... what? Ignore them?"

Something like that. Cain graveled. They'd sort of know it was there, but then ignore it. Any drones walking through here would probably walk around it without even noticing they'd done it... if they thought at all.

"Given what we figured out about Colonel's Jameson's plans and having the outbreak in Manhattan..." Peter said slowly. "Anyone else think it's awfully convenient Oscorp's got a version of the virus that seems tailored to make Jessica's infected ignore them?"

"About as convenient as Oscorp security taking charge of Gentek tower's remains instead of the Thunderbolts," Donna sniffed.

Peter hummed thoughtfully. "Not even the Thunderbolts have something like this."

Connors murmured, There's nothing in Gentek's files about anything even remotely like this.

"None of which gets us any faster to Jessie." Cletus said dismissively. "I know y'all are all fired up about figurin' this stuff out, but all I want to do is strangle that lil minx with her own entrails and get on with our damn lives."

"This could be important," Peter replied with a frown.

"No. What's important is I've got my own body again," Cletus leered, "And I am just itchin' to get out of these tunnels and somewhere that serves a big 'ole bloody rare steak and some cold beer. And maybe a gentleman's club while I'm at it."

"Pig." Donna glowered.

Peter caught a stronger whiff of the ozone stench and glanced up at the drone.

I think whatever effect the Oscorp strain's got is still affecting us more than we realize, Connors murmrued.

Peter frowned and looked at the floating drone, finally managing to focus on it as he realized what was wrong.

The tiny reflection of the overhead lights on a few spots on the front of the drone's casing, just a bit below the little antenna stubs .

"We can see it now, right?" Cletus said dismissively, "It ain't like its got weapons or anything like that?"

Reflections off of lenses.

Peter lashed out, his eyes and the spider-shaped organ on his back flaring red as he took a step forward and smashed his fist hard into the floating drone. It was hurled back fifty feet by the blow, smashing into the far end of the corridor where the next bend was.

The shattered metal and plastic of the drone bled bright, glowing red as the chamber that contained the vulture head cracked somewhere deep within the broken drone. The fluid pooled just for a moment before flash-evaporating into a cloud of terrible bitter-ozone stench

"What the hell, kid?!" Cletus asked sharply.

"Cameras!" Peter snapped. "That thing has cameras. The Oscorp security guy called them eyes in the sky, remember?"

"Oh."

Donna nodded, "Then we need to get out of here. If we've been spotted--"

They all stopped as they all clearly heard the sounds of footsteps from the far end of the hallway, past the corner where the smashed drone lay. The acrid, bitter, ozone-tainted reek sharpened. Thickened. It seemed to cling to everything, making it difficult to pick out any other scents, but Peter got it. Nylon, laced with bright, shiny metals. Gunpowder and gun oil.

Closing.

Incoming. Cain called out unnecessarily.

The first distinctive chatter of machine gun fire was the next clue that it was probably too late to duck back into the last bend in the corridor.

Four men in the distinctive Oscorp security uniforms rounded the far end of the corridor, one of them pausing just long enough to kick the stinking wreckage of the drone out of their way. All four had machine rifles in their arms spraying down the hallway intending to catch all three of them.

They were too far from the bend as bullets filled the air. Not enough time to get to cover, too many to dodge. Peter could feel his shirt reflexively thicken to a kevlar strength overlay, but there was a distinct sting as the bullets nevertheless punched into his torso.

Armor piercing rounds. Cain agreed.

Cletus had been closest and had taken a handful of rounds across his chest, stitching crazed, bloody patterns across his coat. He seemed confused at the damage, blinking owlishly at his wounds.

There wasn't time for thought. Reflex took over. Cletus ran full tilt into the fusilade of bullets. He left a bloody trail from his open wounds, his enhanced speed sending him blurring down the corridor, bouncing off the walls and ceiling.

Against that many bullets, even that much speed couldn't help.

His roar of defiance turned into a wet gurgle as a bullet took him in the throat just eight feet shy of the end of the corridor. He managed to stagger a few more steps before another bullet slammed into his eye, exploding out the back of his head.

He fell, twitching into a growing red pool of his blood.

The momentary distraction of Cletus' charge bought Peter and Donna the time they needed. Peter's right arm shifted even as they tried to get back behind the corner they'd just passed. Cletus was down before they're reached it, but it had still been just barely enough for Peter's arm to assume its shield form.

The bullets they were using had enough punch to get through the pseudo-kevlar on their clothes/skin, but the shield was a different story. Peter could feel bullets embedding into the tough pseudo-fiber glass material as he held position behind it. Donna had leaped over his head, ducking down behind the protection of the shield as well.

Just around the edge of the shield, Peter could see where Cletus had fallen. The rear half of his head was a bloody ruin, sporting a hole he could fit a fist into.

Peter was half expecting to see tendrils whipping up around the edges of the wound to begin stitching it shut. The fact that the damaged areas seemed to be falling apart into red and black threads like viral matting told him that the damage was more than that body could take.

He supposed morbidly, that he should have been glad that he couldn't see out those eyes anymore.

Peter would have been more worried about what had happened to Cletus if it weren't for the fact that Cletus's voice had gone into a near incoherent torrent of profanity the moment his body had fallen.

With Cletus down and Peter and Donna seemingly pinned behind their shield, the shots switched from full auto to short bursts and single shots, alternating between the Oscorp security men.

I wasn't done with that body! Cletus whined.

"Priorities." Donna snapped back. She tried to lean her head around the shield, but had to hurriedly pull it back as a bullet narrowly creased her forehead.

She was wincing even as the thin thread of blood was wicked away by tendrils closing the wound.

That just ain't fair. Cletus growled.

"Worse luck. They're good shots." Donna muttered, sticking her gun arm around the shield to take an unaimed shot, hoping to catch one of the Oscorp security men with it. Peter barely caught a glimpse of a hole at the end of the corridor, nowhere near where the security men were clumped together.

"It was too much to hope that they'd be from the Imperial Stormtrooper Marksmanship Academy." Peter quipped nervously as more bullets slammed into the shield. "Shouldn't they have run out of bullets by now?"

There's more of them coming up around the corner. Once the guys up front run dry, they're switching. Gives them time to reload while keeping us pinned down. Cain graveled. Now that Peter paid better attention he could pick out several distinct scents despite the overwhelming stench of the Oscorp-tainted Hydra.

Donna stuck her gun arm around the shield once more and took another shot. This one was closer to one of the cluster of Oscorp security men, but still missed. In return, one of their bullets smashed into her bone-armored shoulder, embedding in the material.

"Really good shots." Donna concluded. "If I can't get a good look, I can't get a shot off."

And If you stick your pretty little head out to look, they're going to shoot it clean off. Cletus complainted mournfully, Just like they did mine.

"For a supposed bad-ass serial killer, you whine an awful lot." Donna said distractedly.

You want a piece of this, honey-buns? Cletus growled.

"Falling apart from just a single little hole in your head. Peter managed to walk his off. Even Connors was wandering around with a huge one for a whole night before he fell apart," Donna pressed snarkily.

What happens in Oz stays in Oz. Connor replied primly. Also, that was just all just a dream.

Cletus snorted, Like he said. Ain't no way that counts.

"If you say so. I'm not the one who was beaten to death and eaten by a skinny sixteen year old." Donna added.

Cletus sputtered.

Harsh. Cain murmured.

Unironically Connors muttered to her, Focus.

Donna looked thoughtful for a moment even as more bullets whined around them, then blushed slightly. "I think I need to get used to having my own body again. Apparently Cletus annoys me. A lot."

"Can you get them if you can actually see them?" Peter, who had ignored the conversation to think, had suddenly asked.

Donna leveled him with an insulted expression.

Take that as a yes. Cain replied.

Peter nodded. "Make sure I do this right." He said softly, uncertain to whom he was actually speaking. He closed his eyes, feeling his body shift in almost familiar ways, then feeling the shifting as tendrils began to unfold and blur in the center of the shield.

Then his eyes opened.

In the center of the shield, a half dozen pairs of glowing red eyes had opened, arranged in a rough circle.

There was a wave of disorientation and confusion as Peter struggled to process the view from the new eyes, as well as his own and Donna's, but it didn't last long. He and Donna now had a clear view to the end of the hall.

"Got it." Donna called out, reaching only her gun arm around the shield as their senses merged.

There was a muffled thump as her gun arm sent another bone spike shooting down the corridor.

And once again, missed the Oscorp security men and slammed into the remnants of the wrecked drone, kicking up a glowing red spray of Pym Particle fluid.

I thought you could hit 'em once you could see 'em! Cletus jeered.

"Look, wise guy, you think it's easy trying to shoot at something using someone else's eyes you're welcome to try!" She growled back, then sent another shot down the hall.

Now that Peter could actually see the process up close, it was actually fascinating to watch the bone spikes near her "elbow" squeeze into the flesh of her gun arm even as the red glow ran down from her shoulder, only visible through the minute gaps in the bone-armor.

This time one of the Oscorp security men was slammed back suddenly. His gun wrecked and his arm pinned to the wall at the elbow.

All the shooting stopped for a moment as the security men seemed to take this in. Disconcertingly, the injured man didn't make a sound either. Just seemed to gaze curiously down at his ruined arm. The protruding spike of hard bone emerging from the joint. The lower part of his arm dangling uselessly.

Peter inhaled sharply and with the break in the man's uniform, he could make out the Hydra stench even more strongly. It was the Oscorp modified scent. Their uniforms only barely containing the bitter reek that poured out of the relatively small tear.

Not in hazmat gear to protect them from infection. It's to contain theirs. He realized.

Connors voiced the thought that had occurred to Peter. They're not people. They're conditioned infected.

Hey, we didn't get none of that fancy gear when we were conditioned. Just hoodies and collars. Cletus complainted.

"We wouldn't have been clear headed enough to know what to do with guns if we had them," Donna remined him and took another shot. It only narrowly missed as the Oscorp security men dove back for cover around the corner.

Hands poked around the corner, holding their guns and spraying bullets blindly down the corridor. More to keep them pinned than to cause any real damage, but now the shots weren't specifically targeting them the moment anything stuck out of the edge of the shield.

"Less talking," Peter muttered, reshaping his free arm into its whip-blade form. "More fighting."

Donna flashed a brief grin as all the bone-spikes in her arm retracted into her flesh and crimson light began to leak from the seams in her armor. He could feel her begin drawing on their shared bio-mass reserve and knew what it would do.

With the Oscorp security men taking cover, Peter was free to aim the blade end of his whip arm around the shield and send it down the corridor.

The bone blade, with the bulbous red veined forearm backing it up for a not-inconsiderable weight reappeared embedded deeply inside the chest of the already pinned Oscorp infected.

Donna put her normal hand on Peter's shoulder, her fingers splayed and splitting into tendrils even as his own flesh also opened up welcomingly, weaving with her tendrils and holding her hand in place.

Peter twitched the muscles in his left shoulder and they blurred.

He had pulled them both to the end of the corridor, his feet slamming into place on either side of the pinned and squirming infected security man, in a move reminiscent of what Connors had done to him not too long ago.

That had also pulled them around the corner, getting them past the cover the Oscorp security men had been using.

At a glance Peter took in that there were around nine men there. The ones furthest away hadn't quite caught on to what was happening yet, but those close by had reacted with impressive speed.

They raised their guns and were shooting at them once more. Peter winced as he felt the first few bullets slam home in his chest and thigh, rocking him back slightly before he could get the shield back into place. Painful, but he could already feel his body repair itself.

He would have been more impressed by their incredible reflexes and quick response to being surprised, if they hadn't been shooting at him.

The one closest to him had even managed to react to his bringing the shield up with a sudden, vicious kick that had pushed him back half a step with its force. Well, that answered the question of whether or not they could hold their own in close combat. Peter was in no mood to have to fight them all hand to hand.

Not that this was the plan by any stretch.

He could feel Donna shifting against his back, her one hand still half-merged into his back. She got her feet planted on the floor, even as his were still on the wall and whipped her gun arm towards the security men.

Peter could feel the numbers dance in his mind's eye as angles and lines of trajectory overlayed themselves on his vision for just a moment.

They had reacted with exceptional presence of mind to Peter and Donna's sudden appearance. That didn't change the fact that they no longer had any cover and the hallway was just simply too narrow and too crowded for them to dodge properly.

The closest security man was already moving once more to try and move Peter's shield out of the way. Not much. Just enough to give his companions a clearer shot at him.

Definitely needed to take care of that.

Peter cried out as he felt a sudden sharp, stabbing pain from Donna's arm, racing up practically all the way to her shoulder, followed by a sudden greedy pull at his biomass reserves. In that moment, the arm flared red as a significant portion of mass was burned away, followed by an immense, muffled thump of suddenly displaced air as a dozen bone spikes suddenly exploded out of the barrel of her gun arm, accompanied by an expanding cloud of bone shrapnel.

The closest security man, the one who'd tried to wrestle Peter's shield out of the way was ripped apart into almost nothing. The bone spikes and shrapnel cut down those right behind him, tearing through them and sending the spikes through unimpeded.

Shards of razor sharp bone ripped through kevlar armor and flesh with equal ease, before embedding deeply into the concrete walls, floor and ceiling.

Peter felt more than really smelled the wash of acrid ozone-ladened carrion stink from the now dead and dying security men. The blast from Donna's arm had torn their armored outfits wide open, exposing them to the open air. He noted almost idly the spongy, pale flesh looking almost half-melted and tumorous that had been underneath the uniforms.

Their mouths had a tracker's needle teeth, from what he could make out in his brief glimpse, but he couldn't help but note all the wires and tubes inserted into the bodies, tracing strange lines across their skin that were embedded deeply enough to make him realize that these men had been infected and in these uniforms for years.

He could also see splints and metal sections holding their arms and legs into human shapes. Like a pale-fleshed humanoid bonsai, forcing the limbs straight, making them maintain growth in 'human' forms rather than all the stranger forms infections could twist a limb into.

Other than the one Peter had pinned to the wall, the only ones still moving were two or three near the rear of the group.

They were the only ones who were even still in large enough chunks to have survived and even they didn't look like they would last much longer. One was squirming feebly after having lost its head, but was otherwise completely unharmed. The other had lost its leg at the hip and was bleeding out of a dozen other wounds. Peter did note one who was little more than a head, half a torso and an arm that seemed to be trying to crawl away.

Hoo-wee. I want me one of those, Cletus whistled.

Cain murmured, More coming.

Peter nodded as he sensed the approaching Oscorp security. Gunpowder, kevlar and tainted Hydra. At least a dozen. Probably more. The stomping footsteps were closing in at a dead run.

"Can you do that again?" Peter asked, but suspected he already knew the answer.

"Out of ammo." Donna replied, looking breathless. She twitched up her shoulder to show her gun arm. Peter could feel the massive ache stretching along the entire arm, like an over-worked muscle that she could barely lift. All the bone spikes were gone, the barrel was warped and the bone armor running up the entire length of it was cracked and deformed. "And I broke my arm with that trick."

"That chewed through a bunch of our reserves too." Peter said, allowing his shield arm to shift back to normal.

Donna glanced up the hallway where the security men would be appearing any moment, then said, "We're not here for this."

She's got a point, Cletus grumbled. I'm always up for senseless violence, but we get pinned down in a prolonged firefight with these boys we ain't gettin' to Jessie any sooner.

"It is very strange having you agree with me." Donna murmured. "We should go. We can make it around the corner before they get here. Take a different route. We can double back after the search passes us by."

This place is a maze and we can't be sure which of Pym's blueprints still apply, given that half of the tunnels have collapsed and the ones dug into the bedrock aren't on those plans, Connors pointed out carefully. The only way we even know where we're going is with Jessica leading us, and she hasn't shown up since we got into this fight.

Cain rumbled, If we're going, we need to go now. They'll be able to see us any moment now.

Peter glanced down at the corpses, then at the still twitching security man he had run through with his blade arm. They didn't have time to fight their way through Oscorp Security and they certainly didn't have time to play hide and seek with them.

Every second they wasted was another second for Jessica to get impatient and bored and possibly decide she wanted to play a new game.

Hey, if you've got a better ideas, now's the time, Cletus replied sarcastically.

"Cain, the camera feeds from their uniforms..." Peter said aloud. "You still don't have access to them?"

Frequency isolated, but no. The encryption's rough.

Got enough info to jam them for a little bit? Peter thought back

Only if they're close by, Cain replied, And not for very long. Not a lot of juice.

"We just need the ones that can see us right now jammed." Peter said and allowed the bulbous forearm of his blade-arm still pinning the security man to the wall to split into feeding tendrils. "We really don't have the time to waste."

Cletus made a vaguely disgusted noise. You aren't seriously--

I don't think this is a good-- Cain had begun to say, but just a half a second too late.

Peter grit his teeth as his tendrils worked into the body of the trapped Oscorp security man. A shuddering wave ran up his tendrils as they went to work, tearing apart and absorbing the body. With the wave came burning pain, as though his veins were suddenly full of gasoline that had been set on fire. With every beat of his heart he could feel the pain pulsing up higher and higher.

-- you know your crimes Comrade Petkus, a recounting of them in front of your family is a little thing. After all, they deserve to know why you are all being sent away."

"Please... please! They don't deserve to--

He bit down on the agonized scream that was working its way out of his mouth, even as the pain reached his shoulder and and worked its way down his spine. His tendrils had found the infectee's brain fast. Faster than they should have.

Neural tissue distributed throughout the body. Enhances reflex response. Claws. Facial tumors. This is an original strain of Smerdyakov, Connors murmured distantly, But with something extra.

--old man with wire framed glasses, helping to pull him back to his feet. "You need to work faster. Work harder. You will never earn enough food if the overseers think you are slacking off, Josef."

He had to bite back a snarl. The old man did not desrve it, "They will do what they wish, Anton. I only--

Peter gasped. Whatever the Oscorp's Hydra was... his own body did not like it at all.

-- until such time as you have proved you are a good worker, Comrade, da?" Cold. The guard's voice was so cold even as it spoke with mock geniality. Everything here was cold. He could no longer feel his toes--

The pain continued to spread to every nerve, searing through the organizational structures Pym had placed within his mind.

-- have time for your games, Vassily, I need to get to my station."

"Not today. You were volunteered, Comrade. The uchenyy have a use for you after all, are you not a lucky son of a dog? You leave with today's flight to Ostrov Vozrozhdeniya."

Instead of slipping apart neatly into his mind, the new Hydra was sending the man's memories searing into him. Not neatly. Not cleanly.

-- not like he will remember any of this afterwards."

"It still seems cruel to not use any anesthesia."

"Bah. You are too soft, Topolov. Once we are done, he won't even know his name, much less that we didn't take any pains to make him comfortable. Now just hold those electrodes--

It almost felt like how Cletus's memories had first come to him. A shattered mind, but one in big, clear chunks. Jagged, shattered pieces that were sort of fit together in an approximation of usefulness.

Stand here. Hold the gun.

Stand here. Hold the gun.

Stand here. Lower the gun.

PAIN.

HOLD IT. BRING IT UP. HOLD IT PROPERLY.

Stand here. Hold the gun.

Peter slumped against the wall, he could feel the pain receding slowly. His head was still a jumbled mess, with Cletus cussing up a storm, but there was a distinctive thread of Russian invective mixed in with all the rest of his complaints. Peter could distinctly feel the flesh near his elbow closing gingerly around the embedded bone-spike in the wall.

-- the bottle of vodka sloshed noisily as he walked past their ranks. They were at parade rest. This should have been an inspection, but he was not doing an inspection.The man was barely four feet tall and at least a quarter of that was the man's head. It was a grotesque, oversized mass of spongy tumors layered atop his skull.

He whirled on them, misshapen face a mask of anger and misery. "Moscow," He scoffed, taking a swig from the bottle in his hand, "Those short-sighted fools. You were supposed to be the elite. My sons. My brothers. My Novyy Soldyat."

Another swig.

"And now what are you? Glorified prison guards. An afterthought. You should have been Mother Russia's greatest warriors. Now they sell you and all your brothers and sisters and cousins to the Americans as playthings."

He emptied the bottle and allowed it to drop to the floor, where it shattered. "Not even the conviction to just kill us. At least dead we would serve Mother Russia still, da? We would keep her safe."

He made a noise of disgust and spat out, "Instead they would sell us to the Imperialists. All of us. Even me."

He snarled defiantly. "Well... that will not happen, will it, my sons? My brothers? I will not be given over to the Americans." He knelt and picked up the neck of the broken vodka bottle and held it out to the light.

"Not I."

Peter was glad that even though the majority of his mind was busy dealing with its new... components... there was some other small part of him still keeping hold of his body and continuing to do with it was supposed to.

-- tell yuh-you there was going to be some duh-dis-discomfort, but then awkwardly r-r-r-remember that you've all had your ability to feel pain taken away." The man tittered nervously even as he slapped the helmet visor with a twitching hand.

"Why are you even talking to them? It's not like they understand English." A voice sniped, its speaker just out of his line of sight.

"I-i-it m-muh-makes me feel b-b-b-- relaxed, Colonel J-jameson." Miles Warren replied, smiling toothily and shakily at the man with a graying brush cut and thick moustache that had entered the field of view. The man wore the bright, hazmat yellow jacket of the Thunderbolts.

Colonel Jameson snorted. "All of this batch are innoculated?"

"G-go-good t-to go, Co-Colon-Colonel."

"Then let's get you back to HQ. Last thing we need is more questions from Pym."

Every part of him ached. The burning sensations were gone, but every inch of him positively throbbed in time to the beating of his own heart.

He held himself perfectly still. His body positioned exactly as he'd wanted it to be. Slumped against the wall, bone spike pinning his arm painlessly to the wall.

Just as planned.

Clearly, his own voice drawled sarcastically at him, We didn't think this all the way through.

And it ain't my fault this time, Cletus chimed in.

He now had the Oscorp security uniform on, with its face enclosing helmet keeping his expression hidden. As well as hiding the fact that he wasn't quite a corpse from the new arrivals.

His mind had finally cleared just in time to see a small group of Oscorp security men, sweeping through the bodies. All cut from the same cloth, he realized. All products of Russia's Weapon Plus program, but then... modified.

Whatever that innoculation was, Peter thought quietly, That's probably what's making them invisible to Jessica's strain.

Cletus added, And made 'em taste like crap.

Some sort of hostile Hydra counteragent. Strain similar to Hydra we're already familiar with, but designed specifically to attack and disrupt Jessica's particular strain of Hydra Gamma. Connors murmured, We've assimilated it now. It shouldn't affect us anymore.

The lead security man had a hand to the side of his head, a radio blaring into his ear. Cain whispered into his mind, overlaying the Russian orders with a translation, They're being directed to search the area. They think they're looking for two infected. Orders are shoot to kill.

As we're kind of stuck playing possum here, Donna said carefully, I just want to make sure you're okay, Peter.

What? Why are you asking this now? Peter replied in confusion.

The Soldyat we just consumed. His own voice drawled.

Josef. Peter thought harshly. His name was Josef Petkus. What they did to him was supposed to erase his mind. Brainwash him to an obedient robot... a perfect soldier. Well, he was obedient alright, but apparently more of him survived, lurking in the back of his own mind, than anyone could possibly have known.

And...? Donna asked slowly.

You want to know if I'm okay with the fact that we just ate the guy and slaughtered the rest of his squad, because they got in my-- our-- way.

Because it was easier, his voice drawled back. Because it was more convenient to just kill them. That we consciously chose to kill them because they were just infected, so they didn't count. Well, right up until Josef's brain told us otherwise.

Peter formed his thoughts slowly. Deliberately. What they did to those men was... inhuman. Monstrous. Those men should have died years ago. I can't imagine its any better for the skinned and decapitated Vultures they used in those aerial drones. There's memories of worse experiments done to other infected.

And? Donna prodded

What do you expect me to say? Peter thought back harshly.

Y'know, she's just makin' sure you ain't gonna wuss out and start throwin' up and goin' on a hunger strike again, Cletus interjected.

They were better off dead, Peter raged silently. I know that. Logically. I was fighting for my survival. I'm trying to keep the rest of the city and maybe the world from turning out like Forest Hills did. I'd be lying if I said I don't feel any guilt over what just happened.

Wonder if we'd feel the same if they'd been just perfectly normal humans, instead of infected, his voice drawled slyly. Would we feel any worse about it if they'd just been regular guys just doing their job instead of brain-washed, decades old ex-Russian Super Soldiers? How're we going to handle just straight up killing normal people, I wonder?

Peter fought down the urge to growl aloud. This wasn't the time. He could have an attack of conscience and deal with his guilt and fears after everything was done. He couldn't afford the luxury of falling apart right now.

Certainly not while in the process of pretending to be a corpse to avoid having to fight ex-Russian Super Soldiers that had apparently been sold to US Corporate.

He supposed he should thank Pym for reorganizing his mind. It was almost trivially simple to repack his impending nervous breakdown and shove all of that into the back of his mind to keep it out of the way.

At least... until he would inevitably have to bring it back up to actually deal with it.

Where'd Donna's new bod go? Cletus asked suddenly, shifting his thoughts away sharply from those thoughts.

I merged it back into Peter's body. We didn't need it out if we were going to hide anyway.

Cletus groaned, Aww. If you didn't want it, I coulda found a use for it.

No one wants to think about you in a woman's body, Cletus, Donna replied mildly.

I think about it quite often, Cletus declared proudly.

Anyway, I broke it. And all those hormones were... awkward. She gave the mental equivalent of a shrug.

Guys, can we keep this down? Peter grumbled back, somewhat glad for Cletus' distraction, but wishing he could concentrate on simply pretending to be another corpse.

Ain't like they can overhear us. Cletus chuckled as the search party of Oscorp security swept past.

Give it a minute, then they should be far enough that we can keep going, Cain cut in.

It surprised him how easy it was to hold perfectly still. He also really didn't want to think too deeply on why he was fairly certain his heart wasn't beating. He was also fairly sure he wasn't breathing either. Peter would have been tempted to call it the longest minute, but it had been a busy week.

The last Oscorp security man rounded the far corner and Peter straightened up, jerking his arm roughly from the wall to dislodge the bone-spike. He took a deep breath and could actually feel a shudder run through his body as his heart beat restarted.

There you are! Jessica's frantic voice suddenly exclaimed.

He felt the vague sensation of hands on his chest, seemingly roaming, up to either side of his neck, then down to his sides, giving the impression of someone trying to prove to herself that the other person is real. You disappeared! You just disappeared! What happened?! Why did you leave me! You were supposed to come see me!

"Uh... I was on my way to see you--" Peter began to explain awkwardly, all too aware of the phantom sensations on his skin even as he tried to keep his voice low inside the helment.

You were there, then you were gone! She complained. He could feel a pair of hands firmly grasping his, tugging at him, pulling him down the hall that was still littered with pieces of the Oscorp Security men's corpses.

Peter allowed himself to be pulled onwards, the Oscorp security uniform making his progress simpler. Past more aerial drones where they floated serenely.

More groups of Jessica's drones trooped onwards, pursuing whatever goals she had set them on.

At least, no other roving security teams showed up, Peter thought to himself even as he was led by the hand through what once was a parking garage, but was now entirely gummed up with the viral matting. It was a more recent vintage. There were cars caught up in the material. Some of the fleshy material from the building's explosive collapse had grown inward and spread through the area. He could see a few empty spots where some vehicles had been removed, leaving bare concrete surrounded by inches thick flesh.

Probably where the mobile hive vehicles came from, Connors pointed out.

Peter nodded agreement at the thought. In one emptied spot, he could see what looked like a command post embedded within the vaguely pulsating flesh. A carefully pruned away area, where what appeared to be a trailer truck had been pulled into. There was a clear path, free of the material leading up and out towards a parking ramp that Peter imagined led up to the surface.

There were a dozen Oscorp security men keeping watch around the area and four aerial drones floating nearby. There was a low set of concrete barriers surrounding the truck, which had the Oscorp logo emblazoned prominently on it. Machine gun emplacements were set up at the corners of the barrier, each manned by the security men. All of them reeked of Oscorp's innoculation. The acrid tang of anti-Hydra making them stand out even more against the older charnel scent of the Gentek Building.

None of the Oscorp security men gave him a second glance.

Jessica's phantom never acknowledged them.

This is so surreal. He thought to himself.

I like how it looks, Jessica replied back cheerfully, answering his thought.

Peter glanced sharply at the half-seen phantom and wondered just how far that communication could go.

The viral matting thickened beneath their feet as she led him practically within a few yards of the Oscorp command post towards where one would expect stairs would be in a parking garage.

I'm right through here, Jessica said finally, her half-seen form gesturing to a pair of double doors with a sign that read "Sub-Basement 5", her voice warm and enthusiastic.

Funny, Cain murmured.

You saw it too? Cletus replied back.

Peter wondered what they were talking about and wondered further if Jessica could hear them. Well, it seemed she could, but never seemed to consider the voices in his head separate from him.

Cain explained, The machine gun emplacements. They aren't set up to cover anything coming out of the door.

Then why--? Peter began to ask in his head, but Cletus cut him off.

They're aimin' at anyone coming towards those doors, Cletus pointed out.

They aren't there to contain what's inside,Peter realized, They're defenses.

Not responding to those thoughts at all, Jessica's phantom hands ran up his arm once more. He could feel her seem to take his arm and press against him. It'll be so good to finally see you again. That voice was so full of warmth and promise.

Cletus's voice rose up in Peter's suddenly dry throat with a reply. "Lookin' forward to it, darlin'."

Peter's fingers flexed for just a moment, before they blurred and lengthened into claws.

He stepped through the doors.


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