Post by Drake on Dec 20, 2015 23:23:56 GMT -5
#15: The Other Part 5
Dark Side
By Drake
…
“(I am lost, my lord.)”
Carla LaMuerto kneeled before her personal idol of The Other. The spider glared down at her with stone cold eyes. The voice in her head spoke with an even crueler tone.
”(Pathetic child, of course you are. You cannot comprehend The Other’s power. That is why you fail.)”
Carla tightened her hands into fists, ignoring the urge to lash out in anger. “(Then help me.)”
”(I cannot help a girl, for it’s your destiny to fail.)”
“(You said that I failed because I couldn’t understand our god’s power. Now you claim it’s because I am female. I am beginning to believe that you are not as all-knowing as I once believed,)” Carla spat.
”(Child--)”
“(No! Silence! Allow me to speak,)” Carla punched the ground, while the symbiote covered her fist so only the tile cracked. Her father’s voice remained quiet. “(For years, you ordered me to avenge your death, all while telling me time and time again that I wasn’t strong enough to finish what our ancestors had started, that I couldn’t do the very thing you desired of me. When I first saw Spider-Man on television, you told me he killed you, that he was the Spider’s avatar, that I needed to eliminate him. Spider-Man knows nothing of your death; of this I am certain. Even worse, he is not the Spider’s avatar. He has a symbiote like The Other’s, a connection to some…otherworldly force. And it is connected to mine.)”
“(Daughter, the symbiote is not yours—)”
“(QUIET! I am not yet finished!)” Carla demanded. “(Father, I’ve spent my entire life trying to be the son you wished you’d had. I listened to you, embarking on a pointless, foolish quest. I tried to be The Other’s avatar, a role you claimed was meant only for males. But listen now, Father! I am no male! I am your daughter, and perhaps I am not The Other’s avatar. In fact, I am beginning to think that our beliefs may be nothing more than myths. The symbiote…it speaks to me…through you.)”
Carla stood, allowing the symbiote to slip over her body into her costume.
“(I am not stupid, despite what you may have told me in life, and through my memories.)” Carla could feel what she had once believed to be her father’s spirit growing afraid. “(Yes, I know you have taken my memories, Symbiote, and abused them. You took my greatest fear and tried to use it against me, but now I know. I know the truth. I am no avatar of The Other because there is no demon god, not because I am too weak!! You have enlightened me through the very thing you thought you could use to control me. While I may hate my father and hate the legacy he forced upon me, I am his daughter! I am Carla LaMuerto, your chosen warrior—“
Carla let loose all her rage by pummeling the statue of The Other, and in one blow smashing it into rubble.
”(—And I reject my destiny!)”
Carla huffed in anger, her breath slowly growing steady, as the symbiote remained silent. Eventually, the quiet was too much for the woman to take.
“(What do you say?)”
”(You impress me, Carla.)”
The black-clad woman smirked. “(As I should. You should fear me…)”
”(But I should not leave.)”
“(No. While I may no longer crave the death of a mythical god and its warrior, I do still desire to regain my honor. I need you, just as you need me to satiate your bloodlust,)” Carla said.
”(I sense a ‘but’ coming on…)”
“(But realize,)” Carla began, “(That while I may not care about what or who you are, I do care about your respect. You are my weapon. Now that I know the truth, a…proper relationship will be established between us.)”
”(Whatever you want, Carla. Keep killing, and I’ll keep dealing my power.)”
“(No, Symbiote. You stay by my side, and I allow you to exist,)” Carla growled.
The symbiote remained silent for a moment, before agreeing, ”(Fine, boss. So then, who’s first?)”
Carla smirked. “(Who do you think? Spider-Man must die.)”
…
“Are you certain, Otto?” Norman paused for a moment to allow the man on the other line to speak. “Then leave! Get on my jet and leave Latveria!”
An explosion shocked Norman into silence. He quieted for a moment, before weakly offering, “Otto…?”
“No. Doom.”
“You bastard, should you touch a hair on Otto’s head, I swear you will face the full wrath of SHIELD!” Norman shouted.
”Kill him yourself. End him. You have the capability,” the Goblin cooed.
The other line went dead. Norman let loose a guttural cry and threw his phone across the room, shattering it. Practically as the phone broke, the doors to Norman’s office burst open, and in hurried Blackie Drago.
“Oh…uh…” Blackie froze, both shocked and afraid at the rage-filled sight before him. “I’m sorry to bother you, but it’s an emergency. I know the Latveria deal is falling apart, but…”
“Spit it out!!” Norman ordered, cracking.
“Black Tarantula has killed eight people in Times Square. The count’s climbing quickly,” Blackie explained.
“Don’t tell me! Tell Parker!!” Norman growled.
“I did. He’s on his way. I just thought you should know,” Blackie said, before walking out of the room and shutting the door behind him.
Norman slammed his hands on his desk, shaking it. He quite literally roared in frustration, and then proceeded to toss his desk over. As it fell, out came Norman’s broken pocket watch. He went rigid at the sight. Quickly, Norman shook himself out of his shock and picked it up. He gazed angrily at his reflection in its shiny golden sheen.
“Nobody…nobody threatens me or mine. Nobody.”
The Goblin cackled,”That’s my Norman…”
…
Inside Peter’s dorm room, Gwen, Rich, Harry, and Mary Jane sat in a circle, playing Texas Holdem and eating Chinese takeout. After amassing three of a kind and winning out the hand, MJ smiled and fist pumped.
“Face it, Tiger! I just hit the jackpot!!” the redhead cheered.
The hand’s loser, Gwen, smirked, tossing her cards into the discard pile to be reshuffled, “The game isn’t over, MJ.”
“Um…it looks pretty over,” Rich admitted. Mary Jane had about ¾ of the total chips and fortune cookies they’d used as currency. Both Rich and Gwen were almost out of the game entirely.
“That’s a loser’s mindset,” Gwen chided.
“Where’s Peter when you need him? He’d totally say otherwise. He’d say it’s ‘realistic,’” Rich retorted.
“First off, Pete is a negative nancy,” Harry began, smiling amusedly as he dealt everyone their cards.
“Grandma,” MJ playfully interjected.
“Second, he’d agree with Gwen on anything, so no, I don’t buy that,” Harry finished.
“Ooh! Whipped!” Rich grinned, raising his hand to be high-fived. Harry happily complied.
“He’s not that bad,” Gwen said, frowning.
The three others looked at her, all offering differing levels of amusement.
“Honey, it’s okay. He just sucks your dick,” MJ said.
“Speaking of,” ever the classy type, Rich said, “Have you…?”
“Oookay! I’m all in,” Gwen pushed her few remaining chips into the pile, ignoring an ante.
“That’s not an answer!” Rich pushed.
“We haven’t even put in an ante yet,” MJ said, elbowing Rich, who blushed and quieted.
“I’ve got to go, anyway,” Gwen said, “Peter’s been out forever. I’m worried about him.”
“He’s a big boy. He can handle himself,” Rich said, only to receive another elbow to the gut, “Ow! I’m just saying!”
MJ looked up at Gwen, smiling sweetly, “I’m sure he’s fine, Gwen.”
Gwen nodded, but she wasn’t so sure. “When I talked to him on the phone earlier, he seemed so upset. And he hasn’t answered my calls since.”
Harry looked around the room, thankfully noticing that no one else had recognized the rising panic in his eyes. He silently took a deep breath to calm himself, and forced a smile.
“C’mon, Gwen, this is Peter we’re talking about. He avoids trouble like the plague.”
…
“You throw like a child!” Spider-Man rolled to the side to avoid a car that Black Tarantula had chucked at him. He came up swinging, literally ripping a lightpole off the ground and using it as a bat to smack Tarantula into a building.
“Watch it, Spider-Man! That’s public property,” a police officer warned as he aimed his firearm at the villain.
“I give zero fucks. I’m saving your damn life. Speaking of, get the hell away! This is a warzone,” Spider-Man demanded.
“To protect and serve,” the officer shot back.
“Try ‘to run for their lives and to shoot at the good guys,’” Spider-Man grumbled.
A ray of heat vision silenced the webbed wonder, who got blasted into a car, which then exploded. Spidey’s symbiote cried out in pain, and the hero struggled to get back onto his feet.
“Fire…fire’s your weakness??” Spider-Man muttered, “Man up, suit!”
Her lenses smoking, Black Tarantula approached Spider-Man through a cloud of smoke. She seemed like a monster stalking her prey, and Spider-Man quickly became overcome with fear, not anger, at the sight of her.
“Ready to die?” Tarantula asked.
“Definitely not on my bucket list,” Spider-Man mumbled, stumbling back a step. He looked around. He needed to run.
’Survive, Peter!’
“I’m trying!” Spider-Man cried.
Tarantula smirked under her mask. “So yours speaks to you too?”
The villain didn’t waste time to ponder the thought—the connection between their symbiotes. Instead, she lit her eyes up like fireworks, and readied to blast Spider-Man into oblivion as the hero stared at her like a deer in headlights.
BANG!
Black Tarantula’s head jerked to the side as a bullet bounced off her mask. Two quickly followed the first, sending a wave of pain through her head. She looked at the source of the gunfire, the only police officer who had remained to fight her—the same man Spider-Man had argued with earlier.
“Stupid boy,” Black Tarantula grimaced. She reached out, and grabbed the officer with her suit. The man struggled in her grasp, but couldn’t escape. She brought him close, holding him just inches from her face. Meanwhile, Spider-Man remained frozen in fear, dread creeping over him.
’Don’t move, Peter.’
“Goodbye, child,” Tarantula whispered, before crushing the officer in her grasp.
“AAGGGHH!!!”
CRACK!
“NOOO!!!” Spider-Man shouted, finally managing to move. He leaped toward the villain as she tossed the corpse aside. However, his attack got him nowhere, and Black Tarantula simply smacked him aside.
Gasping for air, one of his ribs broken, Spider-Man forced himself onto his feet. That man died because I didn’t act. Never again! After Ben, I swore NEVER AGAIN!
’No, Peter!’
But Peter ignored the voice. He leaped for Black Tarantula again. However, this time he also latched onto two burning car doors with his webs and used one to block the villain’s inevitable strike. He then used the other to hit Tarantula across the face.
“Bastard!” Black Tarantula cried out, blasting Spider-Man back with her heat vision and knocking one of the doors out of his hand.
The hero managed to land on his feet, in this case against a wall. He immediately sprung forward again and threw the remaining car door. Black Tarantula melted it before it could reach her, but ended up burning her suit with the liquid metal. While she screamed in pain and her symbiote reacted likewise, Spider-Man caught her between his calves and twisted around, throwing her into the ground.
Black Tarantula tried to stand, but Peter snagged a burning piece of wood with a webline—ignoring the cries of his symbiote—and used it to beat her across the head, keeping her down. The wood broke into splinters, so he tossed it aside and began to pummel the woman with punches. Eventually, she managed to twist around and kick him off of her.
Spider-Man landed in a three-pronged position, and the two enemies faced off.
“Magic? Science? Whatever. Both of our suits can’t stand fire,” Spider-Man growled.
“You tell me your weakness?”
“I’m evening the playing field,” and after a moment, “I don’t think you’ll be able to catch me, anyway.”
Black Tarantula growled in frustration and fired a heat blast at him. Spider-Man flipped over it, used a webline to pull him to a building, and then fired globs of webbing at the villain with his other hand as he did so. She used her heat vision to burn the webbing, but this gave Spider-Man the time he needed to look around for the best way to beat her.
He spotted another piece of fiery metal, this time from a billboard, and he webbed it into his hands. By this point, he had to flip away to dodge Black Tarantula’s heat vision. He leaped first onto a light pole, then off it onto a car, then used a webline to pull himself to an electric billboard, which he used to spring off and over Black Tarantula. By the time the villain located him, he was right in front of her.
Spider-Man smacked Black Tarantula into the building he’d leaped off of with the chunk of metal, sending her right smack dab into a billboard that short circuited and exploded on contact. She crashed to the ground, a fiery mess of a supervillain. However, she could’ve recovered, if he hadn’t immediately sprung atop her and begun to beat her senselessly with the metal.
Black Tarantula bat at Spider-Man a few times, both with her hands and her suit, getting in decent blows, but he was too engrossed by his fury to notice. He beat at her until the metal was broken and lying at his side. He beat her until he could tell even the symbiote couldn’t protect his hands, and his knuckles began to crack. He beat her until her suit fell back to expose her broken face.
“YOU COME INTO MY CITY AND DESTROY IT! YOU KILL INNOCENT PEOPLE! YOU TRY TO RUIN MY LIFE!!” Spider-Man roared.
’Do it! Do it now!’ his symbiote said.
“YOU DON’T DESERVE TO LIVE!!” Spider-Man literally cried, tears slinking down his face underneath his mask.
“Get the hell off of her!”
Spider-Woman knocked Spider-Man aside with a swinging kick, finally ending his assault. Black Tarantula remained unmoving, weak, injured, but not quite fatally wounded.
The white-masked Spider-Woman glared at her one-time icon. “What the hell is wrong with you? She’d lost!”
“She has to die!!” Spider-Man demanded, pointing to the broken villain.
’Stop anyone who gets in your way…even Spider-Woman!’
The newcomer marched up to Spider-Man, glowering with rage. She motioned around as she walked. “See these people?” A crowd had formed on the outskirts of Times Square. Cops, firefighters, and civilians alike looked on in shock. “They look up to you! And do you know what you did??”
“You destroyed their trust!!” Spider-Woman said.
In one quick motion, Spider-Man balled his right hand into a fist and slugged Spider-Woman. The other hero stood in place for a moment, shocked. She reached up to her cheek, and then finally managed to look at Spider-Man, who just stared at her, lenses wide. Spider-Woman returned the blow in kind. Then, she webbed Spider-Man against a building, and he didn’t fight back.
“I looked up to you,” Spider-Woman said weakly, as the crowd began to move in on them. Spider-Man gazed at the ground, still standing on his own two feet.
“I looked up to you. You were my idol. My hero. I became this because of you,” Spider-Woman motioned to her suit. “And now you’re a…a monster.”
“No,” Spider-Man shook his head, choking back tears.
’Kill her!’
Shut up!
“I swear I didn’t mean to…” Spider-Man looked at Black Tarantula, and then back at Spider-Woman.
“You sold your soul to the devil, and look at what you’ve become. You’re no longer Spider-Man. Now you’re…something else,” Spider-Woman said without any anger, her voice filled with disappointment and sadness.
“What are you?” she asked.
Spider-Man cried out in frustration and tore himself from his restraints. Before Spider-Woman could react, he latched onto a building and swung off. She didn’t chase after him. In fact, she merely watched him swing off into the night as the crowd surged up to her like a wave.
…
Spider-Man didn’t swing for long. He stopped at the first gargoyle he saw, only about a block from Times Square. There, he simply sat down and stared back at the mess he’d created. Debris lay everywhere, injured and dead innocents were shuffled into emergency vehicles, and Spider-Woman struggled to escape the crowd. In the midst of it all rested Black Tarantula, broken, defeated, unmoving. She, too, was rushed off to a hospital. Suddenly, rage burned up inside Spider-Man’s chest.
’She doesn’t deserve that. She killed all those people. She killed that cop.’
Am I crazy?
’Of course not. You know I’m real.’
I’m not talking about you. I just wonder…am I crazy? I dress up in tights and play at hero when all I am is…what? A lucky nerd? An unlucky nerd? I’m not Captain America. I’m not a good guy. I’m just an angry kid who feels guilty that his uncle died because of him. I’m weak.
’But you can be strong. I’ve already made you stronger. You never could lift light poles without me. You never could do what was necessary. Now, just let me in, and you can. You will.’
Suddenly the rage and pain in Spider-Man’s chest refocused. Everything clicked for him.
No. No way. I can’t believe it. I’m supposed to be smart, and I hadn’t realized that you’re the goddamn reason why I’m losing control! You said it yourself! You changed me!
’I only awakened what was hidden deep inside you. I awakened your true self, Peter.’
“Don’t call me that!!” Peter demanded. He grasped at his mask and tried to pull it off, but it simply stretched, unbroken.
You’re the reason I had the dreams! You wanted me to kill LaMuerto! You’re a monster!!
’I’m your friend, Peter. Now. Stop. Fighting. Me.’
Peter tried to tear off the suit, but he couldn’t. The more he struggled, the tighter its grip on him became. He got so caught in the process, that he stopped focusing on his surroundings, ignoring his spider sense, and fell off the gargoyle. Tumbling through the air, Peter couldn’t care less about his mortality. He continued to try to tear the suit from his body. So, the symbiote latched out onto a building to catch him.
’Stop that, Peter. You have the power to change so much. Be responsible enough to do it. Be an adult.’ The voice sounded like Peter’s Uncle Ben now.
“You sick—“ Peter cried in frustration, ripping at the suit to no avail.
’I helped you! Healed you! Made you stronger and deadlier! A superior Spider-Man!’
“SHUT UP!” Spider-Man shouted, leaping off the wall and crashing into the sidewalk. Pedestrians screamed in shock and backed up.
Peter continued to tear at the suit, and when that didn’t work, he swung off. You’re coming off. Just wait!
’Peter, be reasonable. Be mature.’
Peter didn’t know where to go. He knew he couldn’t trust OsCorp. Norman had given him the suit. But it did become abundantly clear to the sentient symbiote that Peter was serious and determined. It began to lash out at him, trying to emotionally and physically force him down. Peter struggled to survive its attack. When it cut off his webbing, he latched onto another line. When it tried to pull him away, he threw himself into a building. Rinse and repeat.
Chaos ensued. Within minutes, he had a police chopper stalking him, and three cruisers racing after him. A trail of debris followed him. When he wouldn’t stop, bullets ricocheted off him, bruising his skin and skull.
’You’ll die, Peter! Stop! Now!’
“I. Won’t. Give. In,” Peter whispered through gritted teeth.
By this point, Peter found himself in Central Park yet again. However, this time his opponent was his own symbiotic suit. It cut off his webbing, sending him tumbling toward the ground. He tried to fire another webline, only to discover he was out on that web shooter. He crashed through trees and into the ground, effectively losing the cops under the brush, but also breaking his leg in the process.
A short distance away, music blared. Peter was surprised to discover he could see skin when he tried to pull the suit off his arm. The symbiote tried to hide its pain, but it couldn’t. The two were psychically connected.
“Sound…you can’t stand loud noises…” Peter realized. He weakly stumbled off as the sound of cruisers neared them.
Peter fired a webline at a tree, and pulled himself to it. The symbiote cut it off before he could use the line to swing around and catapult himself toward the nearby concert. So, instead, Peter hunched back against the tree, and then with a gasp of pain he pushed off his legs and threw himself at the concert.
When he broke through the brush, the police spotlight near immediately discovered him. However, he fell amidst the crowd, and the nearby music caused the symbiote to cry out.
“Dude!! Spider-Man!!”
“Holy shit balls!”
“He looks kinda messed up.”
“Get out of the way!!” Spider-Man demanded, pushing his way out of the crowd, only to leap up off his good leg onto the stage. The band saw him but continued to play. When the spotlight fell on him again, they got quiet. The suit got stronger.
“RUN!” Peter demanded.
The lead singer looked back at his band mates, who looked at him, and then they all took off running. Most of the crowd did the same, but some people stuck around to take pictures.
Spider-Man grabbed the bassist’s guitar and slammed it against the ground, drawing an awful noise from the speakers. The symbiote sobbed, and Peter pulled part of it off, exposing his face. He ignored the police’s cry for him to stand down, as the suit began to spasm over him, and he continued to beat the bass against the ground. When the instrument broke, he grabbed the mic and screamed.
’Don’t do this, Peter. We can do so much together.’
By this point, the remaining civilians had run off as the stage began to fall apart. A speaker fell over. Tiles broke off. The mic had shattered. The sound system was falling apart. The symbiote began to regain strength. With nothing left to use, Peter webbed an abandoned MLG airhorn into his hands and used it to blast the last of the symbiote off his chest.
In nothing but his underwear, Peter stumbled off backstage, keeping his face obscured from the helicopter. Then, facing away, he latched onto a speaker with a webline and tore it down. He did the same with the other one, the lights, and the rest of the stage. He piled everything he could atop the symbiote.
Spider sense! Peter rolled to the side as bullets beat against the ground. He fired a webline at the helicopter and pulled himself up onto it. Resting on its underside, he took a moment to relax as the police officers considered what to do. When the cops’ screams quieted, he leaped away, webbing himself into the brush again. They fired after him, but came nowhere close. Using the trees as cover, Peter snuck out of Central Park and away from the cops.
"Heh. I beat the suit with the power of punk rock," Peter weakly muttered.
…
Inside OsTower, Blackie watched the chaos from hacked police cams. He grimaced when the cops lost sight of Peter. That was good news, but it also meant he didn’t know what had happened to him. He had no idea why the boy had suddenly had a nervous breakdown, nor why he’d decided to terrorize a concert of all places or tear off his suit.
Of course, he also didn’t know why something thumped against the ground outside the control room. Blackie calmed himself, stood up, grabbed the in-testing taser web shooter, and quietly stepped toward the source of the noise. It could’ve just been Norman, or another of the scientists, who’d decided to stay late, or…
With one quick motion, he allowed the sliding doors to open and aimed the web shooter. However, at the sight before him, he stopped. His jaw dropped.
Peter Parker lay in a crumpled heap on the ground, bleeding and bruised.
…
Carla LaMuerto awoke in a darkened room, in pain and alone. However, nearly as soon as her eyes fluttered open, the lights flickered on. She found herself alone and suit-less in a white room with nothing but a cot and a toilet. It was like Dead End all over again, only cleaner.
Carla stood up and looked at the enormous mirror overlooking her room. It didn’t take long for her to realize it was one-way glass.
“(It’s simple, Carla.)” She recognized the voice, even with the added Spanish accent, as Black Cat’s. “(Join me or die.)”
“(So, the cell’s just for show,)” Carla joked, motioning around the room.
“(You’ve put me in a particularly bad mood, Carla. Don’t joke. Life or death? Your choice.)”
“(After I attacked and killed civilians despite your orders otherwise, you’ll really keep me on the job?)”
“(I employ a serial killer with a Halloween fetish. You tell me.)”
Carla smirked, although the action hurt. She massaged her bruised cheeks. “(So, the job, let me guess: we kill Spider-Man.)”
“(Bingo.)”
Carla looked at herself in the mirror. Her body was covered head to toe in injuries. She imagined the only reason she could see out of her swollen eyes and could walk was because the symbiote had it worked its magic, however little time it had to do so. That meant she had been arrested, and allowed time in her suit. That meant Black Cat had stolen her from the cops, which more than likely meant she had people in the force. With resources like that, well, Carla’s answer came easy, particularly as the sight of her injuries continuously caused the anger in her chest to burn hotter.
“(Let’s murder that son of a bitch.)”
…
Elsewhere, a hooded man slunk through the shadows of the police’s yet-to-be taped off crime scene in Central Park. It didn’t take long to find what he was looking for. Unnoticed by the cops, the dark-clad man found the escaping symbiote and trapped it in a metal container before it could react.
Held up to his shrouded face, the hooded man whispered to the symbiote, “My father will be happy to see you. “