Post by Drake on Sept 30, 2015 22:05:07 GMT -5
#12: The Other Part 2
Black and White
By Drake
…
“I’m sorry; try again. I thought you said there was a breakout at Dead End,” Norman eerily calmly responded. His tone may have spoke a thousand words, but his posture spoke even volumes more. Hand tightened into fists, sweat beading down his neck, and his dark eyes glaring out at the skyline, Norman Osborn shivered with rage and paranoia. He began to speak to him. Norman bit back the cool voice’s words as he listened to the woman on the other side of the line.
“Yes, um, you heard correctly, sir. Three prisoners were freed by, er, three convicts,” the SHIELD agent bumbled.
”Incompetent lout,” the voice enticed Norman.
“Unidentified convicts,” Norman spat.
“Yes, sir.”
”They’ll blame you. You said the tech worked, but lo and behold—a failure. Show them, Norman. Show them you’re not a failure. Show them they are,” the voice seduced.
“I will handle the matter,” Norman stated.
“Sir?”
“Spider-Man will identify and capture the prisoners and their…cohorts,” Norman clarified, before hanging up without another word.
Norman looked forward, not at the gorgeous view before him, but his enraged reflection in the glass. Then, slowly, at the cackling ghoul that emerged behind him. The green-scaled demon, Norman’s equal in height and only slightly larger in build, lithely put its hands on his shoulders and leaned in to whisper in his ear.
”Pathetic, Norman. When I said you should deal with them yourself, I meant—“
“Quiet,” Norman growled, drawing a smirk from the goblin.
Norman turned to look over his shoulder, only to discover nobody was there. Unsurprising. The Goblin wasn’t real. Yet, Norman couldn’t imagine something so odd. He wasn’t crazy. Not a chance in hell of that.
”See ya soon…” the voice cackled, fading like a breeze.
Norman shivered, took a deep breath, and steeled himself. He looked back at his reflection in the glass. A thin, cold, cruel face stared back at him. His face.
He was alone.
…
Spider-Man landed nimbly on a traffic light pole, drawing the gaze of pedestrians around him. He reluctantly ignored their cries of surprise and support to speak into his communicator.
“Whoa whoa whoa, slow down there, buddy,” Spider-Man said. “Habla más lentamente.”
“Keep swinging,” Blackie ordered.
“Sir, yes, sir, general Drago, sir,” Spidey teased, leaping away and firing a webline.
“As I said, boss came down here—“
“I can hear him over the line,” Spider-Man mused.
“—And explained to me that there was a breakout at one of SHIELD’s OsCorp prisons. Good news is only three prisoners escaped. Bad news is their saviors could not be ID’d.”
“Wait, what now?” Spider-Man exclaimed.
“The ‘hit or miss’ news is that the crazy Spider-chick you’re going after is one of the escapees—Carla LaMuerto,” Blackie added, ignoring Spidey’s question.
“So Spider-Woman didn’t go bad?”
“Nope.”
“Small miracles,” Spider-Man muttered thankfully.
“Uh…right, a miracle,” Blackie stammered. “Yeah, Pete, you should know. This girl’s got a symbiotic suit that gives her her spider powers.”
“Okay. Creepy, but okay.”
“And so her power levels are a level or two above yours,” Blackie finished.
“Less okay.” Spider-Man grimaced. “How exactly did SHIELD catch her last time?”
“That’s classified.”
“Ha ha. For real, though,” Spidey replied.
“I wasn’t lying,” Blackie admitted. “All I was told was they essentially had to beat her to a pulp to capture her. They couldn’t identify any notable weaknesses.”
“Fan-freaking-tastic,” Spider-Man muttered as burning cars and fleeing civilians came into view. Then, of course, he saw the villain. Clad in a skintight black suit patterned with a white spider over her face, Carla LaMuerto ran down the street, destroying everything in her path. White gloves and white lenses offset the mostly dark costume.
Spider-Man continued, “Hey, wish me luck. Papa Spidey’s up to bat.”
“Did you really just call yourself—?” Blackie began incredulously.
“Don’t make me say it twice,” Spider-Man retorted.
“I know I shouldn’t talk. ‘Blackie’ is weird as hell, but there’s a story behind it. ‘Papa Spider,’ however—”
“COWABUNGA!!” Spider-Man dive kicked—or rather attempted to dive kick—the rampaging black costumed villainess before him, signaling Blackie to quiet down.
Carla LaMuerto reacted to Spider-Man’s attack before he had even gotten close, lashing out at and grabbing his ankle. She threw him into a fire hydrant, setting off a massive geyser of water.
“Guess that answers the ‘spider-sense’ question,” Spider-Man muttered weakly, pushing himself onto his feet.
“I was wondering when you’d show up,” LaMuerto cooed.
“Yeah, blowing up parts of NYC is like pretty much screaming ‘come kick my ass, superheroes!’” Spider-Man remarked. He leaped into action, firing a ball of webbing at the villain. LaMuerto simply sidestepped the glob. Spidey frowned.
“Your tone…you do not know me?” LaMuerto wondered.
Spider-Man’s frown only deepened, although the girl couldn’t notice. Both of their masks hid their faces, and with them their expressions. However, while the villain practically wore her emotions on her sleeve, Spider-Man hid his with a light tone and quick quips.
“You’re not one of those Kik creepers, are you? I tell you guys every time—I just wanted to talk!” Spider-Man joked. He blasted a few more volleys of webbing, picking up speed as he ran towards LaMuerto. The villain dodged every one with ease.
“Can’t you feel the connection between us?” LaMuerto asked, still only walking towards Spider-Man.
“Sorry, but I don’t think of you that way. Can we just stay—” The webbed wonder rolled down onto his hands and used them to flip up into a kick. Much to his surprise, LaMuerto caught him yet again. “—Enemies? ...Son of a—“
LaMuerto slammed Spider-Man into the ground, causing the street to rupture. However, she didn’t stop there. She flipped the webbed wonder over and began to choke him out.
“Spider-Man, we are mortal enemies, the greatest of rivals. I am The Other’s chosen warrior, and you—you are The Spider beneath my boot!”
“I take it back. Can we—ggk—be friends?” Spider-Man managed.
“COWABUNGA!!”
Spider-Woman swung down in all her glory, kicking LaMuerto off of Spider-Man and into a car. She offered her hand to Spidey, but thought better of it, taking it back much to her fellow hero’s dismay.
“I totally already made that reference,” Spider-Man said confrontationally as he stood up and massaged his throat. “And why the hell didn’t she see that coming?”
“I guess I’m just faster than you,” Spider-Woman retorted, crossing her arms. “And who cares?”
Spider-Man mirrored her position, turning away, the two now essentially back to back. “Your Mom cares.”
“Pathetic. You’re pathetic,” Spider-Woman said.
“God! What is it with you recently?”
“Me? What’s with you?? Working for goddamn—“
Both Spider-heroes turned their attention to the black shadow soaring towards them. Their lenses simultaneously widened in shock, the two still mirroring each other in almost every way.
“Move,” Spider-Man tried to push Spider-Woman out of the way. However, the other hero had the same idea, and the two ended up knocking each other to the ground, barely managing to avoid a pitch black laser blast—one that originated from LaMuerto’s eyes.
The villainess roared, “Leave, girl! Spider-Man and I must face our destinies! We must engage in mortal combat!!”
“I hate that game,” Spider-Man muttered.
Spider-Woman raised a certain finger into a certain position that needn’t be expounded on, shouting obscenities at LaMuerto.
“So, this is how other ‘heroes’ handle villains?”
All eyes focused in on the source of the voice, an armored man resting atop a flagpole. Scorpion chuckled, his voice echoing metallically from his suit.
“No wonder the city ends up getting blown to hell,” the secretly Hydra sponsored hero snorted.
“Oh God,” Spider-Man sighed, facepalming, “Anybody but him. …I’d even take Iron Man.”
“Who’s this asshole?” Spider-Woman wondered.
“Where the hell do you freaks keep coming from?!?!” LaMuerto cried out. “What is with this city?!?!”
“Step back, losers. Scorpion’s here to kick ass and take names,” the armored vigilante dropped to the ground between the villain and her two opponents.
“One, two…shit, there are four arachnid-themed super-people in New York. And I thought I was being original,” Spider-Man quipped.
“What?” Scorpion muttered dumbly.
“Spider-Woman,” the white-clad hero pointed to herself and then to each corresponding person, “Spider-Man. Scorpion. And, uh, her, Black Spider.”
“What’s an arachnid?” the armored vigilante said.
“Black Tarantula. ‘Spider’s already been used enough,” Spider-Man interjected.
“SHUT UP AND DIE!!” LaMuerto shouted, firing another energy blast from her eyes. She twisted her head as she did so, sending the laser in a horizontal line across the area, scorching buildings and blowing up cars while the heroes dodged the attack.
“I guess it’s that time of the month,” Scorpion said, landing calmly on the ground, his metal tail shifting around.
“Could you be any more sexist?” Spider-Woman grumbled, following suit.
“For once, guys, I’m with the bad guy. Shut! Up!” Spider-Man tried to leap away from another of LaMuerto’s attacks—a leaping kick—only for the villain to twirl around in mid-air and slam her foot into the small of his back. Spidey crashed against a building, cracking it.
However, while the villain focused her attention on killing Spider-Man, the other heroes—or, rather, hero and vigilante-villain—teamed up to take her down. Fluid tail strikes and agile leaps and kicks from the two arachnid heroes kept LaMuerto at bay. Eventually, the main man himself rejoined the fight and LaMuerto found herself easily outnumbered and unable to go on the offensive.
“Dammit! Soon, Spider, soon,” LaMuerto growled, leaping onto a building wall and web swinging away.
“Not a chance in hell you’re getting away,” Spider-Woman said, chasing after her.
However, Scorpion pushed her to the ground and took her place, leaping dozens of yards at a time after the villain following one last spiteful remark, “I got this. Go home, little girl.”
“Wait—WAIT!!” Spider-Woman cried, jumping onto her feet as Scorpion left the scene. Spider-Man stepped in front of the hero, effectively stopping her in her tracks.
“It’s not worth it. Black Tarantula’s way faster than any of us,” Spider-Man explained.
“So you just give up?!” Spider-Woman exclaimed.
“No, you fight smart. Live to win another day. Spend the time planning, not wearing yourself out,” Spider-Man retorted.
“Is that Norman Osborn talking, or are you really that stupid?” Spider-Woman spat.
“You’re actually bringing that up? I had no idea you were such a bi—“
Spider-Woman threw her hands up, “Enough! God! Enough! I have more important things to deal with than a traitorous asshole in an ugly costume.” She turned away and fired a webline at a building.
“Okay, now you’re crossing a line. No one dishes on the costume,” Spider-Man half-joked. However, he did pause to check himself over, whispering, “Osborn said the focus groups loved it…”
Spider-Woman glanced back at her one-time idol to say, “I hope for your sake the Dark Side really does have cookies.”
Then, she swung off, leaving Spider-Man to grumble to himself, “…that was probably the lamest one-liner ever.”
…
Spider-Man made sure to check not once, not twice, but three times that no one had followed him and that there were no security cameras around him before he changed out of his costume and into his civvies in a back alley between a pizza parlor and OsTower. Certainly, he could have entered the building as Spider-Man, but 1) that meant going to the trouble of avoiding his fanbase, and 2) no one would suspect meek Peter Parker wasn’t just visiting his fabulous girlfriend, Gwen Stacy, at work. Of course, if he actually encountered Gwen—the likelihood of which was slim; the building was enormous—then he might have a bit of a problem, but it was nothing improv wouldn’t solve. Alas, he wasn’t worried, so he changed beforehand, which proved to be a fatal error.
A shadowy figure poked its head over the roof, looking down at Peter as he scurried out of the alley and into OsTower.
…
Ironically enough, as Peter entered OsTower his phone rang, and he discovered none other than Gwen was calling him.
“Hello, beautiful,” Peter answered.
“Hey, Peter.” Gwen usually replied with an equally cutesy phrase. Weird. “I got held up at work. I won’t make it back to campus till late tonight.”
“Oh, okay. No worries,” Peter replied.
“I’m so sorry! I know you wanted to grab dinner and—“
“Don’t worry about it. There’s always another night,” Peter assured her.
“You’re the best.”
Peter smirked. “Don’t I know it.”
“Well, I gotta go. Duty calls. Love you. Bye.”
“Bye—“ Wait, had she just said—Peter’s thought was cut off as Gwen hung up. Before he could ponder her slip up further, a deep, authoritative voice drew his attention.
“Mr. Parker, here, now.” Norman Osborn waited outside an elevator.
A few stray eyes glanced between the two. Peter gulped. Maybe in response to his mood change, his normally black long sleeve shirt—courtesy of his transmutable supersuit—quite literally grew a hood, which he happily, but reluctantly, threw on. He didn’t have time to consider what the suit had just done. At the very least, he knew no one would notice. The shirt was fairly baggy to begin with, and black on black was hard to notice.
Peter hurried up to Norman’s side and the man ushered him inside the elevator. The red-haired man quickly entered after him. Norman swiped his ID card, and pressed the button for their headquarters.
Peter stopped the doors as they were closing in order to hold them open for two approaching scientists. Upon seeing their boss, they stopped, smiled awkwardly, and nodded at Peter.
“We’ll grab the next one.”
“Right. Sorry,” Peter apologized to both the scientists and Norman, before allowing the doors to shut.
As the elevator began to rise, Norman glared at Peter. The teen shrugged.
“I said ‘sorry,’” Peter admitted.
“Courtesy will get you nowhere, Mr. Parker,” Norman replied coolly.
“Whatever you say, Mr. Osborn,” Peter shot back.
…
Just outside the elevator, Peter’s invisible stalker crawled slowly up the shaft. However, when the elevator stopped at a floor and Peter and Norman got out, the silent creeper found they could not enter the following room. Heat sensors lined the walls, alongside DNA tests and metal detectors. The invisible being grimaced and danced back into the elevator shaft. There, they waited patiently. Soon…
…
Peter silently thanked God when he was freed from Norman’s pestering, allowed to scramble into the control room. However, he quickly rescinded that thought when he bumped into Harry, who had been crossing the room just out of view. Why didn’t his spider-sense warn him about the real problems in his life?
“Oh, sorry, Pete. Didn’t see ya there,” Harry stammered, backing up a step.
“No worries. I’m easy to miss. Small like a, well…” Peter shrugged. He didn’t need to finish the joke.
Okay, since when do I not finish my jokes? Even when they suck? Am I really that nervous around Harry? So what? He’s lied to me. I’d lied to him. Who am I to judge? …But he still knew my secret.
“Enough dilly dallying. We have important matters to discuss,” Norman stated as he marched into the room.
Peter cocked an eyebrow in amusement, his instincts kicking in, “I’m sorry. Can you repeat that?”
Norman eyed him warily. “Mr. Parker, you know full well—“
“The part about ‘dilly’ something,” Peter pushed.
Peter ignored the faint buzzing in his head, alerting him to insignificant danger, assuming it was just Osborn’s nonstop desire to kill him. So, he ended up unprepared for Blackie’s blow as the young man smacked him on the back of the head.
“Quit it, Pete. Class is in session,” Blackie ordered.
“Queue the ‘boo’ track,” Peter muttered, leaning back against a desk. He glanced around quickly, expecting one more scientist to help with the presentation, only to discover Otto Octavius was not present. “Where’s Doc Ock?”
“Otto is currently in Latveria, representing OsCorp at a…business conference,” Norman explained, faltering for a moment.
Peter frowned. “I thought Latveria’s borders were closed.”
“There are exceptions to every rule,” Norman replied.
“Not in Latveria. Doom rules the country with a—pardon the phrase—iron fist,” Peter retorted.
“Mr. Parker, with all due respect, this is not your jurisdiction—“
“You too scared to go yourself? That why you sent Otto?”
“Moving on,” Blackie interrupted before things could get worse, turning on the main monitor.
Peter offered Norman one last spiteful glance, confirming he was far from finished with the matter, before focusing on the presentation at hand. The entrepreneur himself ignored the venomous glare, turning immediately to Blackie. There was business to attend to.
Blackie pulled up three bios complete with profile pics on the monitor, allowing Peter to glance through them as he spoke.
“I’m sorry to say you know all the escapees, which obviously suggests this breakout, and this whole case in general might be about—and/or because of—you. You met Carla LaMuerto—“
“—Black Tarantula,” Peter added half-seriously, frowning as he read the files.
“Right. Black Tarantula. From the guy who calls himself ‘Spider-Man,’” Blackie sighed, shaking his head, “Anyway, SHIELD first encountered LaMuerto when she tried—and succeeded—to break through the border from Mexico. She escaped, and SHIELD only managed to catch her when she blew her cover in small town, Georgia. Had her on lockdown ever since. As far as we know, she’s got all of your powers at about twice the strength, and some wicked laser vision.”
“Hot,” Harry joked, looking at Peter for support. The brunet kept his eyes on the monitor, frowning.
“It gets worse,” Blackie added.
“Awesome,” Peter grumbled.
“LaMuerto seems to have a vendetta with you. When SHIELD dragged her in, she kept babbling about some sort of totemic connection between you two. She claimed she was the avatar of The Other, which is shamanic demon death god. It essentially represents the dark side of every human being, the primal urge to kill. She claims The Other’s mortal enemy, the avatar of The Spider, warrior god of life, is—“
“Me,” Peter interrupted.
Blackie nodded, pity in his eyes, “Right.”
“Not like I haven’t fought crazies before. Next,” Peter said, hiding his inner terror. This girl would go to any lengths to kill him. He’d never faced an enemy quite like that before.
Peter’s casual demeanor didn’t faze Blackie. Still, he continued, “Sure. Next up, Mark Raxton—“
“The Molten Man,” Peter interjected. The others stared at him with mixed confusion and disappointment. He sighed and shrugged. “I’ll admit, ‘s not my best work.”
“Raxton,” Blackie continued, “at first glance appears to be a low-rent Human Torch, unable to fly and unable to reach the same ‘supernova’ temperatures as Johnny Storm. However, as SHIELD discovered through testing, Raxton is capable of deadlifting 2 tons.” At Peter’s shocked glance, “Yes, two. His powers have evolved.”
“Talk about hot,” Peter muttered.
“Last up, Maxwell Dillon, codenamed Electro. He’s basically an electrical god,” Blackie admitted with a shrug.
“And I’ve got the scars to prove it,” Peter quipped. He stood up straight and took a confident step forward. “Alright, so we got three powerhouses running loose and an employer who’s capable enough to break in and out of a SHIELD prison without being identified. Frickin’ ay. Sounds like a Tuesday.”
“Don’t be cocky. You’re severely outmatched, Mr. Parker,” Norman stated.
“Listen, I’m feeling good. As much as I hate to say it, why don’t we call up Serval and have Scorpion work the case with me? Hell, why not ask the F4 for help?” Peter pointed out.
“I will not under any circumstances ask Roderick Kingsley and his moronic fashion company for help, nor will I stoop to the pathetic, self-righteous levels of Richards and his band of misfits just so we have an additional eight, unneeded hands to assist us in our mission. Additionally, the legal ramifications of such an action would be unspeakable. Ask your attorneys if you do not believe me,” Norman spat.
Superhero law, particularly employed superhero law, hadn’t really been hammered out yet, with so few people needing it. The hero to civilian ratio was astronomically low. Pay and trademarks only made things more complicated.
“Fine. No need to bring Murdock and Nelson in on this,” Peter said. “So, what’s the—“
Peter’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He paused to check it, much to Norman’s ire. Peter’s second boss, J. Jonah Jameson, had texted him.
BE HERE IN HALF AN HOUR OR YOU’RE FIRED.
Fun. Peter sighed and looked up.
“Duty calls,” he said.
“Mr. Parker, now is not the—“
“Respectfully, I don’t care,” Peter interrupted. Without his Bugle job, he wouldn’t have a cover for how he was paying for college and his aunt’s medical bills.
“I’ll phone in later,” Peter assured the group, who looked at one another, frustration and confusion bouncing between them.
…
“At last, the Sinister Six are united!” Toomes cawed from his decrepit throne. His pets matched his cry, causing an uproar so loud he couldn’t hear his ‘underlings’ speak.
“Six? He doesn’t even know about the black suit chick,” Max said to Jenkins.
“Toomes fancies himself the leader of the Six. He believes his Vulture Harness will help him lead us into battle,” Jenkins explained.
“SPIDER!” Macendale chirped as the avian chorus died down, drawing Toomes’ gaze.
Felicia subtly nudged him and agreed, “Jason has the right idea. Next, we kill Spider-Man.”
Toomes’ lips curled up into a yellowing grin. “Yes! Soon enough, Spider-Man will die by our hands!”
…
DING! The elevator doors slid open and Peter slipped out. However, as he did so, he bumped into a blonde he recognized all too well. Yet again, he wondered why his spider-sense didn’t warn him about the real threats in life.
“Peter…” Gwen mumbled, surprised.
“Gwen,” Peter feigned a smile, “I was just looking for you. Wanted to surprise you and all.”
Gwen eyed him doubtingly. He’d never done this before.
“Surprise,” Peter offered.
Gwen only bothered to think the situation over for another half second, before smiling toothily and pulling Peter by his collar into a tight kiss. He whole-heartedly returned it. After a few moments, the two parted lips, but continued to lean their heads against one another.
“Surprise,” Gwen quietly quipped.
At the frustrated glance of a few scientists who wanted to get to the elevator, and the amused gazes and ‘thumbs up’ of teenaged field trippers, Gwen pulled Peter aside. As they neared a clear space at the end of the open room, Peter pulled Gwen in close and tried to kiss her again, only to freeze as he leaned in. Gwen tried to finish the kiss, but Peter stepped away, frowning.
“Something wrong?” Gwen asked, worried.
“Your neck,” Peter gently pulled her shirt back a bit to further expose a sickly blue bruise arching over her lower neck and right shoulder. Gwen immediately recoiled, pulling her shirt back up. Peter eyed her, both confused and scared. “What happened?”
“Nothing. I just…tripped,” Gwen muttered, glancing away.
“On your neck?” Peter pushed.
“What? It’s not like you don’t show up totally busted up for no reason,” Gwen retorted coolly.
“That’s different. I told you I have a habit of getting mugged. And I’m a klutz,” Peter horribly failed to convince Gwen of his ‘habit.’
“Uh huh.”
“Listen, we can talk about this later. I’ve gotta get to the Bugle or JJJ’s gonna have my ass for breakfast,” Peter said, backing up. He really didn’t want to have this talk right now.
“I didn’t realize Jameson was into boys,” Gwen instinctively joked, smirking slightly.
Peter smiled. He waved at Gwen. “See ya!” And then, unable to help himself, whispered as he turned away, “I love you.”
Gwen shot back “Bye!” with a smile, but almost immediately frowned when she read his lips. Had he just said…?
Peter was long gone by the time the thought had settled in Gwen’s head. When at last it did, she looked out the door from where he’d left, and smiled.
…
As Peter ran into an alley to change into his costume, a figure slunk through the shadows after him. However, it lost him as he turned around a corner and darkness enveloped his body. Frowning, the figure looked all around for Peter’s lithe form, but couldn’t locate him. When he reemerged in his black suit, swinging away from another alley, the figure smiled and followed after him.
The two black-suited, web-swinging superhumans stayed far enough apart that the second, Carla LaMuerto herself, could stay hidden from Peter’s view. Silently, she swore she catch Peter at the proper moment, and end his life.
Soon enough, The Spider’s avatar would die. Soon enough, she would destroy her master’s losing legacy, honoring her father’s death. Soon enough, she would be a god among men.
Soon…