Post by Drake on Jan 1, 2014 20:36:49 GMT -5
A/N: Events in this issue take place during Avengers “Broken.” There will be (incredibly) minor spoilers for that story. It’s nothing that hasn’t been mentioned in an interview. Also, please note a scene in this issue will carry over into “Broken.” Thank you.
Miles awoke with a shudder, jerking upright. It took him a second for his vision to adjust to the light, just enough time for him to be seen.
“You’re awake. Thank God.”
New voice. No spider sense. No threat. Miles swiveled around to look at the speaker. It was a tall, muscular black man. He wore spandex. Gray spandex. Miles leaped off the table towards the Prowler. Whatever his spider sense was telling him, it was wrong. This man was a threat.
The Prowler grabbed Miles before he could reach him and pinned him to the ground.
“Calm down, Miles, I’m not going to hurt you,” Prowler assured.
“How the hell am I supposed to believe that?” Miles choked out.
“Miles, he’s telling the truth.” Miles looked up. Peter Parker stood over him, wearing a lab coat. He was flanked by another man: tall, blonde. Miles recognized him; he was Bill Connors. Miles relaxed against Prowler’s hold. Prowler did the same.
Miles massaged his throat as Connors spoke up, “It appears he’s in good shape.”
Peter looked at the other scientist incredulously, “You think?”
“Where am I?” All of the men in the room looked down towards Miles. He met Peter’s gaze. “Well?”
Peter took a deep breath before explaining, “We’re in Prowler’s base inside a warehouse in the Bronx. It’s not exactly the cleanest place, but it’s safe. We’re safe.” Peter reassured, before holding his hand out to Miles. The young hero took it and allowed Peter to pull him up.
Miles leaned against the table he’d been laying on, “So, how long have I been out?”
No one responded. Prowler looked at Peter, “We need to give it to him straight.”
“What?” Miles demanded, “Tell me.”
Peter sighed and massaged his temple, “Miles…you’ve been unconscious for a week.”
“No…” Miles muttered, realization dawning on him, “My mom…does she…”
“You stormed out of the house. I’m sorry, Miles, I used it as an excuse to fake your running away,” Peter exclaimed. Bill frowned. Prowler just stared emotionlessly at Miles.
“You talked to her?” Miles exclaimed.
“No, I manipulated the News…people. Money can do a lot,” Peter, ashamed, wouldn’t meet Miles’ gaze.
“Son of a bitch!” Miles swiveled around and slammed his fists onto the table. His costume was undamaged but Miles could feel his skin splintering open under it. Miles tried to calm himself. This was his problem before. He’d almost killed someone when he’d gotten angry earlier. Deep breaths, he silently repeated to himself.
Miles began, “Green Goblin…is he…?”
“Out there? Yeah,” Prowler spoke up this time. Still, Bill stayed quiet. “We got worse problems though. Goblin told you about Scorpion?”
Miles turned back around and met Prowler’s gaze. Something about him seemed familiar. “Yeah? He’s in town?”
“Oh yeah. And he brought serious shit with him. New York’s underworld’s at war,” Prowler explained, crossing his arms.
“Damn…” Miles sat back on the table.
“That isn’t the worst of it,” Peter started.
Bill finished, “Gargan brought a drug with him…a super drug. The Mexican Government classified it as la hormona de crecimiento mutante.”
“Mutant Growth Hormone,” Miles spoke up, remembering the Spanish his mother had taught him.
“Kids on the street call it Banshee,” Bill agreed, “It gives them super powers temporarily. It’s dangerous, highly addictive, and it’s spreading quickly.”
Miles understood the situation. He forced himself to remain calm. Shit was going down, nothing he was ever prepared for. Then again, Kang and the Masters of Evil hadn’t exactly been on his bucket list. He could do this, but he needed help.
“Where are the Avengers?” Miles asked.
“No idea. They’ve been unresponsive for the past few days,” Bill admitted.
“The Fantastic Four’s out in space,” Peter continued.
“You’re not alone though,” Prowler assured, “Some guy calling himself Daredevil in the east side is taking out the Kingpin’s forces. Black Spider—I think you’ve heard of her—has been helping out. And of course there’s the kids…the kids shooting Banshee.”
“They’re trying to be heroes?” Miles exclaimed.
“You can’t talk, Miles,” Peter admitted.
“But I’m not shooting up with a volatile drug!” Miles argued.
“Yeah, well, that isn’t stopping any of ‘em. One kid almost got himself killed last night. Called himself Patriot. This has to stop, Miles,” Prowler said.
His own name being used caused Miles’ attention to draw suddenly and steadily to Prowler and Bill Connors. Why had Peter allowed them to discover his identity? Moreover, who was the Prowler?
“Who are you?” Miles demanded, glaring at the Prowler.
“Miles…” Peter tried to interrupt.
“No, it’s fine, Dr. Parker,” Prowler began, “The kid should know. Maybe then he’d actually trust me.” Peter looked reluctant, but he ceded the decision to Prowler. The vigilante glanced at Bill. The scientist nodded.
Prowler took a deep breath and began, meeting Miles’ icy gaze, “Miles, I am a friend, I promise. My name is Hobie Brown…”
“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” Miles asked.
“No,” Prowler admitted, “But this might. Hobie Brown isn’t my real name. I had it changed, but originally…originally I was known as Carl Rose.”
If Miles was holding something, he would’ve surely dropped it. His jaw practically fell to the floor. Carl Rose…the guy his father had told him about…the hero…
“You’re…?”
“I know that probably makes you resent me,” Carl looked away, ashen-faced, “Your father told you about me, I’m sure. I…I failed as a hero…I failed as a brother, but after that day I went through an awakening. I met some people, including Bill here, and…I became the Prowler, Hobie Brown. Carl Rose died that day with my brother. Now, I’m the face of Demaryus’ vengeance.” The sadness in Prowler’s face was replaced by anger, “I am the fear hidden in criminal’s hearts, and I will not stop until that…infection is destroyed and our world is cured.”
“Oh my God…you were at the ParkerCorp bombing,” Miles realized.
Prowler tried a smile, but couldn’t manage it, “That was me saving Bill. I tried to come back, help you, but everything was over by then. I…I’ve been doing more than that though. I’ve been watching over you, making sure you and your parents were safe.”
Anger arose in Miles. He kept it in check, “But my Dad…”
“I failed Jefferson,” Prowler turned away from Miles, “I’m sorry, Miles. I failed again.”
Peter and Bill stood there awkwardly as Miles just glared at Prowler. The vigilante stood with his back to the young hero, unable to meet his gaze.
“I swear to you, Miles…I swear, I will help you avenge your father’s death,” Prowler still wouldn’t look Miles in the eyes. He walked away. Miles’ gaze fell down to the floor. Tears threatened to overwhelm his vision. Peter approached him and patted him on the back.
This time, however, Miles wasn’t going to lose to his emotions. He had work to do. His mother and his uncle had to wait. Now…now there was a Goblin to find and a city to save. Miles was Spider-Man, and it was his job to push past his limits and save everybody.
Miles pushed himself off the table, “Where’s my mask?”
“Miles…” Peter begged.
Bill picked up the mask off of a table and threw it to Miles.
“Thanks,” Miles said.
“No problem,” Bill replied, stern-faced.
“Miles, wait. You need to know about Harry…he isn’t a threat you can face alone,” Peter started.
“I know,” Miles walked away from his mentor, shoulders hunched, mask gripped tightly in his hand, “I’m going to see a few friends about that.”
Before Peter could say another word, Miles threw on his mask and catapulted himself out of the warehouse.
Miles had a job to do. He was Spider-Man. He had to save everybody.
…
Spider-Man swung over a crowd of reporters, cameramen and just about everybody you can imagine from social media and the News, and landed nimbly on the lawn of Avengers Mansion.
“Hey, it’s Spider-Man!”
“Why’s that criminal allowed in there and we aren’t?”
“Yo, freak, you going to join your loser buddies?”
Spider-Man ignored the comments. Now was not the time. He approached the front door of the Mansion and knocked.
“Go away. We’re not doing any interviews!” Spider-Man recognized as the slurred, apparently drunken voice of Tony Stark.
“Did someone order a pizza?” Spider-Man quipped.
“I told you,” Tony threw the door open, “Oh, Spider-Man…”
Spider-Man looked the man over. He still was well dressed and he appeared decent enough, but his bloodshot eyes gave it away. The guy was wasted. What the hell was wrong with him?
“Can I speak to Captain America?” Spider-Man walked past Tony, trying to avoid speaking to the drunk billionaire.
“Yes, you can,” The star spangled Avenger stood at the top of the stairs in his new sleek costume, his mask pulled back like a hood, “Tony, go ahead and rest in your room. I can handle this.”
Tony just nodded, and stumbled through a back hallway.
“What happened to him? Mixed up water with vodka?” Spider-Man joked. It seemed lost on the Captain, whose expression was grim.
“Ever since Kang…Tony’s had trouble. More so recently. Things aren’t good among the team,” Captain America admitted, “Although you should know that. It’s inescapable.”
Spider-Man was curious about what Captain America was talking about, so he pushed on, “Let’s pretend like I don’t have any clue what you’re talking about. What’s up?”
Cap raised an eyebrow, but he went with it, “The bombing? The fire last night? The Ultimates? You…”
“Right, no, I know. Just teasing you,” Spider-Man faked a laugh…badly.
“You understand,” Captain America motioned to a chair. Spider-Man declined. “You’ve had plenty of bad publicity recently.”
“You don’t actually believe any of it, do you?” Spider-Man threw out.
Cap almost laughed. Almost. He shook his head, “No, I know you, Spider-Man. You’re a fine young man. I’m sure your parents are proud of you.”
Spider-Man looked away, thinking only of his dad and his hatred of superheroes, “Yeah…they’re enthusiastic, all right.”
“So you have told them?” Captain America inquired.
Spider-Man ignored the question, “You guys wouldn’t happen to be able to help me, y’know, fix the city? Stop the drugs and all that?”
Captain America’s expression returned to its stony, sullen tendency, “We’re doing everything we can, Spider-Man, but I’m afraid we can’t help you directly.”
“Party pooper,” Spider-Man emotionlessly said.
“Is that all?” Captain America questioned. It was, but…no, no it wasn’t. Miles had decided to step up. Now it was the Avengers’ turn.
“Cap, I don’t know what’s wrong, what crap you guys are dealing with, but deal with it. Don’t let this team fall apart. Set a better example for kids,” Spider-Man actually chuckled a bit at that last part, “And just…just keep fighting. People need you.”
And so Miles finally came to that very conclusion about himself. He left the building without a word, unusual for the talkative teen wonder. The quiet wasn’t to last. Miles had work to do. People needed him.
“Where to first?” Spider-Man asked over the comm link.
“This one…I think you’re going to want to hit it first,” Peter began, and then finished with a single chosen statement that would ruin Miles’ day…
“Scorpion’s forces are raiding Midtown High.”
All Star Spider-Man #11
Spider War Part 1: Death Is Not The End
By Drake
Spider War Part 1: Death Is Not The End
By Drake
Miles awoke with a shudder, jerking upright. It took him a second for his vision to adjust to the light, just enough time for him to be seen.
“You’re awake. Thank God.”
New voice. No spider sense. No threat. Miles swiveled around to look at the speaker. It was a tall, muscular black man. He wore spandex. Gray spandex. Miles leaped off the table towards the Prowler. Whatever his spider sense was telling him, it was wrong. This man was a threat.
The Prowler grabbed Miles before he could reach him and pinned him to the ground.
“Calm down, Miles, I’m not going to hurt you,” Prowler assured.
“How the hell am I supposed to believe that?” Miles choked out.
“Miles, he’s telling the truth.” Miles looked up. Peter Parker stood over him, wearing a lab coat. He was flanked by another man: tall, blonde. Miles recognized him; he was Bill Connors. Miles relaxed against Prowler’s hold. Prowler did the same.
Miles massaged his throat as Connors spoke up, “It appears he’s in good shape.”
Peter looked at the other scientist incredulously, “You think?”
“Where am I?” All of the men in the room looked down towards Miles. He met Peter’s gaze. “Well?”
Peter took a deep breath before explaining, “We’re in Prowler’s base inside a warehouse in the Bronx. It’s not exactly the cleanest place, but it’s safe. We’re safe.” Peter reassured, before holding his hand out to Miles. The young hero took it and allowed Peter to pull him up.
Miles leaned against the table he’d been laying on, “So, how long have I been out?”
No one responded. Prowler looked at Peter, “We need to give it to him straight.”
“What?” Miles demanded, “Tell me.”
Peter sighed and massaged his temple, “Miles…you’ve been unconscious for a week.”
“No…” Miles muttered, realization dawning on him, “My mom…does she…”
“You stormed out of the house. I’m sorry, Miles, I used it as an excuse to fake your running away,” Peter exclaimed. Bill frowned. Prowler just stared emotionlessly at Miles.
“You talked to her?” Miles exclaimed.
“No, I manipulated the News…people. Money can do a lot,” Peter, ashamed, wouldn’t meet Miles’ gaze.
“Son of a bitch!” Miles swiveled around and slammed his fists onto the table. His costume was undamaged but Miles could feel his skin splintering open under it. Miles tried to calm himself. This was his problem before. He’d almost killed someone when he’d gotten angry earlier. Deep breaths, he silently repeated to himself.
Miles began, “Green Goblin…is he…?”
“Out there? Yeah,” Prowler spoke up this time. Still, Bill stayed quiet. “We got worse problems though. Goblin told you about Scorpion?”
Miles turned back around and met Prowler’s gaze. Something about him seemed familiar. “Yeah? He’s in town?”
“Oh yeah. And he brought serious shit with him. New York’s underworld’s at war,” Prowler explained, crossing his arms.
“Damn…” Miles sat back on the table.
“That isn’t the worst of it,” Peter started.
Bill finished, “Gargan brought a drug with him…a super drug. The Mexican Government classified it as la hormona de crecimiento mutante.”
“Mutant Growth Hormone,” Miles spoke up, remembering the Spanish his mother had taught him.
“Kids on the street call it Banshee,” Bill agreed, “It gives them super powers temporarily. It’s dangerous, highly addictive, and it’s spreading quickly.”
Miles understood the situation. He forced himself to remain calm. Shit was going down, nothing he was ever prepared for. Then again, Kang and the Masters of Evil hadn’t exactly been on his bucket list. He could do this, but he needed help.
“Where are the Avengers?” Miles asked.
“No idea. They’ve been unresponsive for the past few days,” Bill admitted.
“The Fantastic Four’s out in space,” Peter continued.
“You’re not alone though,” Prowler assured, “Some guy calling himself Daredevil in the east side is taking out the Kingpin’s forces. Black Spider—I think you’ve heard of her—has been helping out. And of course there’s the kids…the kids shooting Banshee.”
“They’re trying to be heroes?” Miles exclaimed.
“You can’t talk, Miles,” Peter admitted.
“But I’m not shooting up with a volatile drug!” Miles argued.
“Yeah, well, that isn’t stopping any of ‘em. One kid almost got himself killed last night. Called himself Patriot. This has to stop, Miles,” Prowler said.
His own name being used caused Miles’ attention to draw suddenly and steadily to Prowler and Bill Connors. Why had Peter allowed them to discover his identity? Moreover, who was the Prowler?
“Who are you?” Miles demanded, glaring at the Prowler.
“Miles…” Peter tried to interrupt.
“No, it’s fine, Dr. Parker,” Prowler began, “The kid should know. Maybe then he’d actually trust me.” Peter looked reluctant, but he ceded the decision to Prowler. The vigilante glanced at Bill. The scientist nodded.
Prowler took a deep breath and began, meeting Miles’ icy gaze, “Miles, I am a friend, I promise. My name is Hobie Brown…”
“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” Miles asked.
“No,” Prowler admitted, “But this might. Hobie Brown isn’t my real name. I had it changed, but originally…originally I was known as Carl Rose.”
If Miles was holding something, he would’ve surely dropped it. His jaw practically fell to the floor. Carl Rose…the guy his father had told him about…the hero…
“You’re…?”
“I know that probably makes you resent me,” Carl looked away, ashen-faced, “Your father told you about me, I’m sure. I…I failed as a hero…I failed as a brother, but after that day I went through an awakening. I met some people, including Bill here, and…I became the Prowler, Hobie Brown. Carl Rose died that day with my brother. Now, I’m the face of Demaryus’ vengeance.” The sadness in Prowler’s face was replaced by anger, “I am the fear hidden in criminal’s hearts, and I will not stop until that…infection is destroyed and our world is cured.”
“Oh my God…you were at the ParkerCorp bombing,” Miles realized.
Prowler tried a smile, but couldn’t manage it, “That was me saving Bill. I tried to come back, help you, but everything was over by then. I…I’ve been doing more than that though. I’ve been watching over you, making sure you and your parents were safe.”
Anger arose in Miles. He kept it in check, “But my Dad…”
“I failed Jefferson,” Prowler turned away from Miles, “I’m sorry, Miles. I failed again.”
Peter and Bill stood there awkwardly as Miles just glared at Prowler. The vigilante stood with his back to the young hero, unable to meet his gaze.
“I swear to you, Miles…I swear, I will help you avenge your father’s death,” Prowler still wouldn’t look Miles in the eyes. He walked away. Miles’ gaze fell down to the floor. Tears threatened to overwhelm his vision. Peter approached him and patted him on the back.
This time, however, Miles wasn’t going to lose to his emotions. He had work to do. His mother and his uncle had to wait. Now…now there was a Goblin to find and a city to save. Miles was Spider-Man, and it was his job to push past his limits and save everybody.
Miles pushed himself off the table, “Where’s my mask?”
“Miles…” Peter begged.
Bill picked up the mask off of a table and threw it to Miles.
“Thanks,” Miles said.
“No problem,” Bill replied, stern-faced.
“Miles, wait. You need to know about Harry…he isn’t a threat you can face alone,” Peter started.
“I know,” Miles walked away from his mentor, shoulders hunched, mask gripped tightly in his hand, “I’m going to see a few friends about that.”
Before Peter could say another word, Miles threw on his mask and catapulted himself out of the warehouse.
Miles had a job to do. He was Spider-Man. He had to save everybody.
…
Spider-Man swung over a crowd of reporters, cameramen and just about everybody you can imagine from social media and the News, and landed nimbly on the lawn of Avengers Mansion.
“Hey, it’s Spider-Man!”
“Why’s that criminal allowed in there and we aren’t?”
“Yo, freak, you going to join your loser buddies?”
Spider-Man ignored the comments. Now was not the time. He approached the front door of the Mansion and knocked.
“Go away. We’re not doing any interviews!” Spider-Man recognized as the slurred, apparently drunken voice of Tony Stark.
“Did someone order a pizza?” Spider-Man quipped.
“I told you,” Tony threw the door open, “Oh, Spider-Man…”
Spider-Man looked the man over. He still was well dressed and he appeared decent enough, but his bloodshot eyes gave it away. The guy was wasted. What the hell was wrong with him?
“Can I speak to Captain America?” Spider-Man walked past Tony, trying to avoid speaking to the drunk billionaire.
“Yes, you can,” The star spangled Avenger stood at the top of the stairs in his new sleek costume, his mask pulled back like a hood, “Tony, go ahead and rest in your room. I can handle this.”
Tony just nodded, and stumbled through a back hallway.
“What happened to him? Mixed up water with vodka?” Spider-Man joked. It seemed lost on the Captain, whose expression was grim.
“Ever since Kang…Tony’s had trouble. More so recently. Things aren’t good among the team,” Captain America admitted, “Although you should know that. It’s inescapable.”
Spider-Man was curious about what Captain America was talking about, so he pushed on, “Let’s pretend like I don’t have any clue what you’re talking about. What’s up?”
Cap raised an eyebrow, but he went with it, “The bombing? The fire last night? The Ultimates? You…”
“Right, no, I know. Just teasing you,” Spider-Man faked a laugh…badly.
“You understand,” Captain America motioned to a chair. Spider-Man declined. “You’ve had plenty of bad publicity recently.”
“You don’t actually believe any of it, do you?” Spider-Man threw out.
Cap almost laughed. Almost. He shook his head, “No, I know you, Spider-Man. You’re a fine young man. I’m sure your parents are proud of you.”
Spider-Man looked away, thinking only of his dad and his hatred of superheroes, “Yeah…they’re enthusiastic, all right.”
“So you have told them?” Captain America inquired.
Spider-Man ignored the question, “You guys wouldn’t happen to be able to help me, y’know, fix the city? Stop the drugs and all that?”
Captain America’s expression returned to its stony, sullen tendency, “We’re doing everything we can, Spider-Man, but I’m afraid we can’t help you directly.”
“Party pooper,” Spider-Man emotionlessly said.
“Is that all?” Captain America questioned. It was, but…no, no it wasn’t. Miles had decided to step up. Now it was the Avengers’ turn.
“Cap, I don’t know what’s wrong, what crap you guys are dealing with, but deal with it. Don’t let this team fall apart. Set a better example for kids,” Spider-Man actually chuckled a bit at that last part, “And just…just keep fighting. People need you.”
And so Miles finally came to that very conclusion about himself. He left the building without a word, unusual for the talkative teen wonder. The quiet wasn’t to last. Miles had work to do. People needed him.
“Where to first?” Spider-Man asked over the comm link.
“This one…I think you’re going to want to hit it first,” Peter began, and then finished with a single chosen statement that would ruin Miles’ day…
“Scorpion’s forces are raiding Midtown High.”