Marvel: Tomorrow MAX (Chapter 10)
Title: Marvel: Tomorrow MAX
Chapter 10: End, Start, Climax
Author: V5_Vendetta
Fandom: Marvel Universe
Disclaimer: Crapsack future mine, general universe template Marvel's
Principal Characters: Audrey Hopkins/Arachne (OC), Karin Kusanagi/Fearless (OC), Troy Castro (OC), Peter Parker/Spider-Man, Laura Kinney/X-23, Cuayin (OC)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The end is the beginning is the end.
“Breathe . . .” Ravenclaw gently whispered. “Breathe . . . breathe . . . into me.”
Arachne exhaled, and Ravenclaw breathed in Arachne’s exhalation. The dark-haired woman exhaled, and Arachne breathed in her exhalation. They continued on like this, inhaling each other’s breath and exhaling into each other’s mouths. As they did so, they touched hands, their fingers splayed open. Their eyes were closed, but they did not need them open; they were communicating on a higher level than merely their physical senses. Their dual spirits, the human and the animal, were in congress, the raven embracing the spider and the raven’s avatar embracing the spider’s avatar.
“Now . . . awaken,” Ravenclaw whispered.
Arachne’s eyes opened, and she found herself in an almost-intimate embrace with Ravenclaw, which prompted a slight blush from her. “Hey.”
“How do you feel?” Ravenclaw asked, completely not fazed by her closeness to Arachne.
“I feel . . . better,” Arachne replied. “It’s not like I’ve got this warm, fuzzy feeling inside me, it’s more like this feeling of serenity.”
“Good. That is what is supposed to happen.”
“Did it require all this . . . closeness?”
Ravenclaw snickered quietly. “Do you dislike physical contact with other human beings?”
“No, it’s just . . . I’m used to being this close with my girlfriend,” Arachne
admitted. “When I had one, that is.”
“What happened to her?”
“We parted company on kind of a bad note. I’ve been meaning to find her so I can apologize for everything.”
“Do you still love her?” Ravenclaw inquired gently.
“Yes. I love her.”
“Then have courage, and you will be reunited with her soon.” Ravenclaw stood up, while holding Arachne against her gently. “Now it is time to see just how synchronized you and your animal spirit are.” She took several steps back from Arachne, and withdrew a long, metallic black feather. “My bones are hollow, my muscle is steel. I glide the air without a sound, through my feathers the wind I feel. Hold fast, talons of black. Nails of night, engraved on my back.” She turned her back to Arachne at that moment and lowered the top of her dress enough to expose a raven carving on her back. “Ravenclaw.”
The feather glowed brightly as she held it, and a bright flash overcame Arachne’s vision, forcing her to close her eyes. When she dared open them again, Ravenclaw was in her imposing, vaguely birdlike black armor, her sword extended. “Come,” she challenged in her unnaturally deep voice.
“Yes,” Arachne answered, willing her costume to resume its default form.
“What do you think?” Wolverine asked Wirework, having been observing the two young women.
“I think she’s good,” Wirework replied. “Not good enough, but still quite good.” She gave a sidelong look at Wolverine. “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?” Wolverine asked curtly.
“Getting attached to a lost young girl in need of guidance and starved for love,” Wirework replied. “It is your type, after all.”
“Nah, his type’s hot redheads and cute Asian chicks,” Deadpool piped up.
“Wade . . .” Wirework groaned.
“It’s not like I’m telling you something you don’t know already,” Deadpool remarked. “Or something that the readers don’t know already.”
“Again with that nonsense?”
“You gotta admit, it’s fun being inside a comic book, or even some punk kid’s badly written fan novel.”
“This ain’t a comic book, Wade. A comic book wouldn’t be as sick, twisted, and wrong as our lives have been,” Wolverine grunted.
“What comics have you been reading?” Deadpool asked, his tone sarcastic.
White Tiger and Patriot joined Wolverine, Deadpool, and Wirework in observing the fight between Arachne and Ravenclaw. “I didn’t know you were teaching her kickboxing,” Patriot remarked.
“It wasn’t me teaching her,” Wolverine denied.
“Spiders have eight limbs,” Deadpool piped up. “Muay Thai is called ‘The Art of the Eight Limbs.’ Do the math.”
“Wow, you sounded smart for a second or two there,” Wirework sniped.
“Yeah, babe, I have my moments,” Deadpool answered. “I’m a lunatic savant.”
“You have the ‘lunatic’ part correct,” White Tiger mused darkly. “As for the ‘savant’ part, that remains to be seen.”
“I’ve been around longer than you, kid,” Deadpool retorted. “I’ve had time to get smart.”
“Were you this talkative or this infuriating when you were younger?” White Tiger wondered aloud.
“Depends on your definition of ‘younger,’” Deadpool replied in an odd tone that mixed “airhead” with “Zen.” “Do you mean as I was at some point earlier in this century, or do you mean when I was closer to your age?”
“You are a frustrating man, Wade Wilson,” White Tiger declared.
“That’s what all the babes tell me,” Deadpool answered. “Yeah . . . still wish I’d settled down that Theresa girl, she was hot . . . and pretty nice, too. Not like some people.”
Wirework gave Deadpool a sidelong glare. “Is that supposed to mean something?”
“Yeah, you’re f#$%& mean,” Deadpool retorted childishly.
“I have half a mind to -”
Deadpool interrupted, “Only half? You’re no better than me, then!”
“That would be flattery,” Wirework growled, “and I am not in the mood to flatter you.”
“Batter me, then?” Deadpool guffawed. “Come on! You know you want to!”
“Battering you has lost its thrill.”
“Lost its thrill? You’re bored with me already? But what about that incredible night we had while Logie-bear was counseling Cutie Spidey?”
“‘Cutie Spidey’?” Patriot cut in.
“Yeah. She’s like Spidey, only she has boobs and a really cute face,” Deadpool explained. “And now that I’ve explained the joke, it’s no longer funny. And now I have to kill you.”
“Kill me nothing,” Patriot retorted, raising her shield in challenge.
“Wade . . .” Wolverine growled.
“Yeah, yeah, I know, James Logan Patch Howlett,” Deadpool groaned. “No killing of teammates. I can kill the enemy if I find it necessary, but I can’t go player killer. Bad me, thinking it.”
“You’re more like a griefer,” Patriot observed.
“Huh, that’s rich,” Deadpool retorted. “Real frickin’ rich coming from ‘Politically Correct Barbie Cap Doll.’”
“Do you want me to throw this shield through your head?” Patriot asked. “Because you’re asking for it.”
“I’m begging for it, doll! Who’s gonna give it to me?”
“Deadpool, quit antagonizing Patriot; she has a pointy shield that can make you go dead for at least a few minutes. Patriot, don’t listen to Deadpool. I know he has a very compelling voice, but really . . . what good will it do you?” Wirework cut in, just as she grabbed Deadpool with her tendrils and started dragging him away.
“Help, help! She’s gonna rape me!” Deadpool shouted.
“For a guy who’s about to get raped, you’re taking it very well despite all your hollering,” Wolverine remarked.
“And how would you know?”
“Because you don’t stink of the kind of fear someone would be giving off if they really were about to get raped.”
“Oh. Good point.” And that was the last anyone heard of Deadpool and Wirework, for a while.
Back in New York City, Karin Kusanagi dragged herself into Midtown High School, slumping into her seat in homeroom. “Hello, Ms. Kusanagi,” the teacher greeted amiably. “Burned the midnight oil again?”
“Something like that,” Karin answered dully.
“Well, your end of term assignment is almost due, so I hope you’re putting the final touches on it,” the teacher said to the class. “Or, if you haven’t started yet, that you will start immediately. You still have a week at most, so hurry up and finish.”
As the teacher continued on, Karin sank into her own thoughts. Last night hadn’t ended with the torching of the former Parker residence, just the opposite in fact. Her mind drifted back to the memory of that night, the night that she had sold what was left of her innocence. If there was anything Karin had prided herself on, it had been her loyalty, but now she had not even that. Oh, well, it would be another thing for her to flagellate herself for when all was said and done.
She unconsciously rubbed her lips, those lips that had been touched by electric kisses. The memory was burned indelibly onto the insides of her eyelids, the memory of Scorpion kissing her, so ethereal and yet realer than anything she had ever felt. If she had been in her right mind, she would have pushed Scorpion away, but the lack of nonviolent physical contact for so long and the loneliness that accompanied that lack had driven her half mad. That was the only way she could justify letting Scorpion do what she had done with her.
Her name is Camille, a treacherous part of her brain whispered. It’s the name she uses most, if not her real name. Just like Karin is the name you use most, but is not your real name.
It had felt good . . . so damn good to be in someone’s arms again, to be touched, to be caressed, to be kissed, to feel not alone for once. But morning had come, and she had remembered who she was, who she was supposed to be, and who really owned her heart. When she’d gotten home, she’d wrecked her war closet, throwing batons to the ground, knocking her suits into the walls, and kicking her masks as though there were actual faces behind them. It had been all she could do not to collapse in a crying fit, and even that had left her too drained to do just about anything else.
When lunch came, Karin didn’t even bother eating. She was neither hungry nor thirsty. The hollowness she felt was not going to be filled by food or drink or sex or violence; she was aware enough to know that. The only thing that could fill that hollowness in her soul was . . . was out of her reach, maybe forever. She didn’t have time to let despair consume her, because Troy had suddenly plopped down in the seat across from her.
“Hey, Tsurugi,” he greeted.
“Hi, Troy,” Karin answered dully.
“We need to talk.”
“About?”
“The shared focus of our affections. I believe you call her . . .” His voice dropped so low, only her hearing could register it. “Arachne.”
Karin snapped alert. “How do you know about that?”
“Amazing the things you learn after stepping in extraterrestrial goop.”
“A symbiote? You have one, too?”
“Yeah. Unfortunately, I don’t have a cool name like ‘Venom’ or ‘Carnage’ or ‘Toxin.’” Troy’s tone sounded amused more than anything else. “Or even ‘Fearless.’”
“What do you want with me?”
“I want Audrey back. You do, too. We’re going to work together and get her back.”
“Are you serious?” Karin leaned in. “Do you even know where to begin looking?”
“As long as I have something to start with, I’m a very good tracker,” Troy replied. “Or at least, the Other is. And you have no choice. You’re self-destructing without her.”
“What do you know?”
“More than you think. So what do you say?”
“You don’t sound like you’re lying. But symbiotes are talented at body manipulation.”
Troy smiled, completely without irony. “You’ll just have to trust me.”
“Fine, but I even so much as sniff a double-cross and you burn.”
“Fair.”
In the NYX cell’s headquarters, Peter Parker endlessly reviewed the footage of Cuayin’s strikes. No, he wasn’t doing this as a means of formulating a strategy should Cuayin arrive on the coast looking for a fight. It was entirely personal for him; he was looking at the girl - no, young woman - who was called Callisto. The girl moved and fought with an uncanny agility and grace akin to his abilities, and even displayed more explicitly spiderlike techniques - wall-crawling and web-spinning - not to mention the spider symbol she bore on her chest. Aside from those things, something about her made his heart ache, like a ghost of a memory that cried for him to recognize her.
“Who are you?” he whispered.
“You don’t sleep?” X-23’s voice asked.
“Do you?” Peter retorted lowly.
“Point taken,” X-23 conceded. “You see a ghost in this girl, don’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“What does that ghost look like? Is it the ghost of what might have been, if you had not chosen to reveal yourself?”
“The ghost of something I once had a chance to have, and now something I will never ever have.”
X-23 was silent for only a minute, but that minute felt like a century. “Do you remember when we first met?”
“Yeah. Was wondering how Wolverine’s genes spawned you.”
“And I wondered why you talked so much and seemed to never take anything seriously. I . . . kind of liked that about you.”
“Those were the days,” Peter murmured ruefully.
“And now look at us.”
“Can’t worry about that now. Not with so much at stake.”
“Get some sleep,” X-23 grunted before departing.
That night, Karin and Troy were out on the streets - or technically above the streets. Karin leaped from rooftop to rooftop, using the energy grapples in her lances to swing where she could not leap, while Troy swung from building to building. Both were in costume, Karin wearing what resembled a black leather-and-mesh suit with red-highlighted black protective armor for her joints and Troy wearing a metallic navy suit with a bright red spiderlike symbol on his chest and a spiderlike red frame around the black eyes of his mask. The two made a strange pair, but they were in it for one purpose and one purpose alone, to find Audrey and bring her back to them.
“Is she anywhere in the city?” Karin asked.
“No . . .” Troy replied. “She’s much farther away. I can still feel her, but barely.”
“Why are you helping me with this?”
“I love her. You love her. We both need her. Ergo, I’m helping you.”
“Wow, did you rehearse that?” Karin quipped mordantly.
Troy let out a low “hmph,” which Karin merely took in stride. “Unless you have a way of getting us to her faster than this . . .”
“I do. Bodyslide.”
“Bodyslide?”
“Yeah. If I can lock onto Audrey’s biometric signal, I might be able to transport us to where she is.”
“That sounds good.” Troy looked at the clock tower where Karin operated as the leader of the Knights. “Is this it?”
“Yeah, although it’s kind of abandoned,” Karin replied.
“Abandoned? Why?”
“Let’s just say . . . after Audrey left, it became less worthwhile for us to stick together. We’ve mostly gone our separate ways.”
“That sucks,” Troy commented, swinging up onto the tower’s balcony. Karin landed beside him. “Is anyone still here?”
“Nightshade and Artemis. That’s about it.”
The two went inside, heading for the central hub of the Knights’ base. Passing through the lounge area, they were spotted by Nightshade, who teleported over for a greeting. “Hey! Bringing boys here now, Fearless Leader?”
“Yeah,” Karin replied. “He’s a friend. Say hi to . . .” She looked at Troy questioningly, also hoping that he’d managed to come up with a somewhat clever name for himself.
“Trance,” Troy replied.
“Trance, huh?” Nightshade remarked. “Nice one. You here to help find Spider-Lady?”
“Yeah,” Trance affirmed.
“Where’s Artemis?” Karin inquired.
“Taking out her frustrations on Tsukikishi in the gym area,” Nightshade answered.
“How, exactly?” Karin asked.
Judging by how Nightshade’s temperature rose and her breathing became somewhat faster and shallower, Karin had her answer. “Never mind. Come on, Trance.”
Karin took Trance to the base computer. “Engage search for biometric signature designated ‘Arachne.’”
“Search engaged,” the computer answered.
“How long do you think this is going to take?” Trance wondered.
“Considering that we have to go through roughly 500 million people in this country alone, I’d say not very long,” Karin replied.
Before Trance could say anything more, the computer piped up with, “Search concluded. Biometric signature ‘Arachne’ unable to be located due to presence concealment technology.”
“Where is the source of the concealment technology?” Karin asked.
“Location of camouflage: Denver, Colorado,” the computer answered. “Warning: Due to presence concealment, it is impossible to pinpoint the specific location of biometric signature ‘Arachne.’ Physical search will be necessary to locate Arachne.”
“That’s fine,” Karin said. “You’ve helped out plenty, anyway.” She turned to Trance.
“Are we going to try this bodyslide thing of yours?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied. “Bodyslide by two.”
When dawn broke, the dam of peace burst and war flooded the streets. In New York City, the Avengers suddenly found their base invaded by twenty “wardrones” resembling green-and-silver versions of the armor last worn by the original Iron Man accompanied by five women, the leader being Callisto. Beside her was a Peruvian woman dressed in form-fitting black with phosphorescent lightning highlights, a Latverian girl garbed in metallic silver, a Filipino woman whose costume consisted of bandages wrapped around her body almost to the point of mummification, and a Haitian girl with metal braces around her forearms and calves.
“Who are you?” Captain America asked.
“Your world’s redeemers,” Callisto replied.
In Denver, Thunderbolts Mountain was torn open by an invisible force, soon revealed to be Cuayin with four women and twenty “wardrones” accompanying her. Three of those women were the shadow user Atieno, the light wielder Lesedi, and the “star-heart” shaper Nthanda. The fourth was younger, not long ago having outgrown pubescence, her features disguised by a strange black cloak.
“Damn it!” Gyrich swore. He was going to have the heads of everyone in security for this; something like this should never have slipped through their defenses.
“Hello, Niles Jason Gyrich,” Cuayin greeted coldly. “Hard at work carrying on the hateful legacy of your parents, hmm?”
“You’re the reason people like my parents existed,” Gyrich answered. “Self-styled gods thinking they don’t have to respect the laws that we ordinary humans abide by.”
“We don’t have to. Not when those laws were born out of the intent to keep the less enfranchised members of society, most particularly women, ‘in their place.’”
“Just like an American to think his laws were meant for anything other than repressing people who don’t look like him or share his anatomy,” Nthanda sneered.
While this tête-à-tête was happening, the wardrones were swarming into the base, mowing down Sentinels and Guardsmen with cold precision. At that moment, the Thunderbolts were triggered into acting via the neural implants that kept them relatively disciplined. They fought bravely against the wardrones, but the ones relying on elemental powers - namely Yukionna and Flashfire - were sorely outclassed, as the drones simply powered through their attacks and subdued them with inhuman strength. In fact, similar to Sentinels, they had countermeasures programmed for various super-powers, as Yukionna discovered when she was “sweated” into unconsciousness and Flashfire was doused with oxygen-eating chemicals, preventing him from using his powers.
The Beetle found that his own armor, although considerably powerful, was no match for the superior firepower and durability of the wardrones. When he attempted to use the armor’s microwave emitters to blast the wardrones, they simply powered through his fire and beat him into submission. As for Venom, her artificial symbiote might have made her considerably tougher and faster than she’d been with the cloned symbiote she originally wore, but the wardrone she was fighting proved even stronger. It demonstrated that in a simple punch through her symbiotic armor, which penetrated her more vulnerable flesh and was followed up by an energy pulse that internally electrocuted her.
V6 was the only one who seemed to at least be able to evade the wardrones without taking much damage, and Jaeger’s Nanosentinel makeup rendered him almost impossible to kill. Unfortunately for him, his luck ended when Cuayin dashed in front of him, a blur even to his bullet-timed senses, and used her hand like a knife, stabbing him in the stomach.
In California, the team known as Force Works was attacked by a small swarm of wardrones. Of course, when the wardrones were lethal weapons mechanized into human shape, even a “small” swarm was not something to be taken lightly. As such, Force Works was taking the invasion absolutely seriously, and doing their utmost to prevent any innocent deaths.
The team consisted of five members in all. The leader was Lady Liberty, the daughter of erstwhile super-soldier Jingo. The second-in-command was Steel Spider, a man in silver-and-navy armor akin to the Scarlet Spiders’. Their tech genius was Jupiter, whose ability to store and release electromagnetic radiation came in handy when dealing with electronics. Their “muscle” was She-Bomb, a woman who had been given the same gamma radiation treatment as the original Abomination and even resembled the Abomination, albeit much more pleasant to look at. Their stealth operative was called Whizzer, so named because the only evidence of his presence when using his speed powers was a breezy sound.
With their extraordinary abilities, regardless of source, Force Works fought mightily against the wardrones. Lady Liberty used her photonic shield to damage the wardrones, if not outright destroy them, while the Steel Spider used the extendable legs to outright stab the wardrones in their optics. Jupiter generated an electromagnetic pulse to disable the wardrones, but their insulation simply meant that he knocked out power to half the city. Fortunately, Steel Spider’s armor was also insulated from electromagnetic pulses.
“It wasn’t a bad idea in theory,” Steel Spider mumbled to Jupiter.
“Just don’t try that again unless you’re sure it’ll work,” She-Bomb added, while punching through a wardrone’s head.
“Just where did these guys come from?” Lady Liberty asked.
A lightning bolt suddenly struck the ground where Force Works was fighting, materializing into a woman seemingly made out of blue energy with lightning-like edges. “Hello,” she greeted.
“We’re screwed,” Whizzer muttered.
Chapter 10: End, Start, Climax
Author: V5_Vendetta
Fandom: Marvel Universe
Disclaimer: Crapsack future mine, general universe template Marvel's
Principal Characters: Audrey Hopkins/Arachne (OC), Karin Kusanagi/Fearless (OC), Troy Castro (OC), Peter Parker/Spider-Man, Laura Kinney/X-23, Cuayin (OC)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The end is the beginning is the end.
“Breathe . . .” Ravenclaw gently whispered. “Breathe . . . breathe . . . into me.”
Arachne exhaled, and Ravenclaw breathed in Arachne’s exhalation. The dark-haired woman exhaled, and Arachne breathed in her exhalation. They continued on like this, inhaling each other’s breath and exhaling into each other’s mouths. As they did so, they touched hands, their fingers splayed open. Their eyes were closed, but they did not need them open; they were communicating on a higher level than merely their physical senses. Their dual spirits, the human and the animal, were in congress, the raven embracing the spider and the raven’s avatar embracing the spider’s avatar.
“Now . . . awaken,” Ravenclaw whispered.
Arachne’s eyes opened, and she found herself in an almost-intimate embrace with Ravenclaw, which prompted a slight blush from her. “Hey.”
“How do you feel?” Ravenclaw asked, completely not fazed by her closeness to Arachne.
“I feel . . . better,” Arachne replied. “It’s not like I’ve got this warm, fuzzy feeling inside me, it’s more like this feeling of serenity.”
“Good. That is what is supposed to happen.”
“Did it require all this . . . closeness?”
Ravenclaw snickered quietly. “Do you dislike physical contact with other human beings?”
“No, it’s just . . . I’m used to being this close with my girlfriend,” Arachne
admitted. “When I had one, that is.”
“What happened to her?”
“We parted company on kind of a bad note. I’ve been meaning to find her so I can apologize for everything.”
“Do you still love her?” Ravenclaw inquired gently.
“Yes. I love her.”
“Then have courage, and you will be reunited with her soon.” Ravenclaw stood up, while holding Arachne against her gently. “Now it is time to see just how synchronized you and your animal spirit are.” She took several steps back from Arachne, and withdrew a long, metallic black feather. “My bones are hollow, my muscle is steel. I glide the air without a sound, through my feathers the wind I feel. Hold fast, talons of black. Nails of night, engraved on my back.” She turned her back to Arachne at that moment and lowered the top of her dress enough to expose a raven carving on her back. “Ravenclaw.”
The feather glowed brightly as she held it, and a bright flash overcame Arachne’s vision, forcing her to close her eyes. When she dared open them again, Ravenclaw was in her imposing, vaguely birdlike black armor, her sword extended. “Come,” she challenged in her unnaturally deep voice.
“Yes,” Arachne answered, willing her costume to resume its default form.
“What do you think?” Wolverine asked Wirework, having been observing the two young women.
“I think she’s good,” Wirework replied. “Not good enough, but still quite good.” She gave a sidelong look at Wolverine. “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?” Wolverine asked curtly.
“Getting attached to a lost young girl in need of guidance and starved for love,” Wirework replied. “It is your type, after all.”
“Nah, his type’s hot redheads and cute Asian chicks,” Deadpool piped up.
“Wade . . .” Wirework groaned.
“It’s not like I’m telling you something you don’t know already,” Deadpool remarked. “Or something that the readers don’t know already.”
“Again with that nonsense?”
“You gotta admit, it’s fun being inside a comic book, or even some punk kid’s badly written fan novel.”
“This ain’t a comic book, Wade. A comic book wouldn’t be as sick, twisted, and wrong as our lives have been,” Wolverine grunted.
“What comics have you been reading?” Deadpool asked, his tone sarcastic.
White Tiger and Patriot joined Wolverine, Deadpool, and Wirework in observing the fight between Arachne and Ravenclaw. “I didn’t know you were teaching her kickboxing,” Patriot remarked.
“It wasn’t me teaching her,” Wolverine denied.
“Spiders have eight limbs,” Deadpool piped up. “Muay Thai is called ‘The Art of the Eight Limbs.’ Do the math.”
“Wow, you sounded smart for a second or two there,” Wirework sniped.
“Yeah, babe, I have my moments,” Deadpool answered. “I’m a lunatic savant.”
“You have the ‘lunatic’ part correct,” White Tiger mused darkly. “As for the ‘savant’ part, that remains to be seen.”
“I’ve been around longer than you, kid,” Deadpool retorted. “I’ve had time to get smart.”
“Were you this talkative or this infuriating when you were younger?” White Tiger wondered aloud.
“Depends on your definition of ‘younger,’” Deadpool replied in an odd tone that mixed “airhead” with “Zen.” “Do you mean as I was at some point earlier in this century, or do you mean when I was closer to your age?”
“You are a frustrating man, Wade Wilson,” White Tiger declared.
“That’s what all the babes tell me,” Deadpool answered. “Yeah . . . still wish I’d settled down that Theresa girl, she was hot . . . and pretty nice, too. Not like some people.”
Wirework gave Deadpool a sidelong glare. “Is that supposed to mean something?”
“Yeah, you’re f#$%& mean,” Deadpool retorted childishly.
“I have half a mind to -”
Deadpool interrupted, “Only half? You’re no better than me, then!”
“That would be flattery,” Wirework growled, “and I am not in the mood to flatter you.”
“Batter me, then?” Deadpool guffawed. “Come on! You know you want to!”
“Battering you has lost its thrill.”
“Lost its thrill? You’re bored with me already? But what about that incredible night we had while Logie-bear was counseling Cutie Spidey?”
“‘Cutie Spidey’?” Patriot cut in.
“Yeah. She’s like Spidey, only she has boobs and a really cute face,” Deadpool explained. “And now that I’ve explained the joke, it’s no longer funny. And now I have to kill you.”
“Kill me nothing,” Patriot retorted, raising her shield in challenge.
“Wade . . .” Wolverine growled.
“Yeah, yeah, I know, James Logan Patch Howlett,” Deadpool groaned. “No killing of teammates. I can kill the enemy if I find it necessary, but I can’t go player killer. Bad me, thinking it.”
“You’re more like a griefer,” Patriot observed.
“Huh, that’s rich,” Deadpool retorted. “Real frickin’ rich coming from ‘Politically Correct Barbie Cap Doll.’”
“Do you want me to throw this shield through your head?” Patriot asked. “Because you’re asking for it.”
“I’m begging for it, doll! Who’s gonna give it to me?”
“Deadpool, quit antagonizing Patriot; she has a pointy shield that can make you go dead for at least a few minutes. Patriot, don’t listen to Deadpool. I know he has a very compelling voice, but really . . . what good will it do you?” Wirework cut in, just as she grabbed Deadpool with her tendrils and started dragging him away.
“Help, help! She’s gonna rape me!” Deadpool shouted.
“For a guy who’s about to get raped, you’re taking it very well despite all your hollering,” Wolverine remarked.
“And how would you know?”
“Because you don’t stink of the kind of fear someone would be giving off if they really were about to get raped.”
“Oh. Good point.” And that was the last anyone heard of Deadpool and Wirework, for a while.
Back in New York City, Karin Kusanagi dragged herself into Midtown High School, slumping into her seat in homeroom. “Hello, Ms. Kusanagi,” the teacher greeted amiably. “Burned the midnight oil again?”
“Something like that,” Karin answered dully.
“Well, your end of term assignment is almost due, so I hope you’re putting the final touches on it,” the teacher said to the class. “Or, if you haven’t started yet, that you will start immediately. You still have a week at most, so hurry up and finish.”
As the teacher continued on, Karin sank into her own thoughts. Last night hadn’t ended with the torching of the former Parker residence, just the opposite in fact. Her mind drifted back to the memory of that night, the night that she had sold what was left of her innocence. If there was anything Karin had prided herself on, it had been her loyalty, but now she had not even that. Oh, well, it would be another thing for her to flagellate herself for when all was said and done.
She unconsciously rubbed her lips, those lips that had been touched by electric kisses. The memory was burned indelibly onto the insides of her eyelids, the memory of Scorpion kissing her, so ethereal and yet realer than anything she had ever felt. If she had been in her right mind, she would have pushed Scorpion away, but the lack of nonviolent physical contact for so long and the loneliness that accompanied that lack had driven her half mad. That was the only way she could justify letting Scorpion do what she had done with her.
Her name is Camille, a treacherous part of her brain whispered. It’s the name she uses most, if not her real name. Just like Karin is the name you use most, but is not your real name.
It had felt good . . . so damn good to be in someone’s arms again, to be touched, to be caressed, to be kissed, to feel not alone for once. But morning had come, and she had remembered who she was, who she was supposed to be, and who really owned her heart. When she’d gotten home, she’d wrecked her war closet, throwing batons to the ground, knocking her suits into the walls, and kicking her masks as though there were actual faces behind them. It had been all she could do not to collapse in a crying fit, and even that had left her too drained to do just about anything else.
When lunch came, Karin didn’t even bother eating. She was neither hungry nor thirsty. The hollowness she felt was not going to be filled by food or drink or sex or violence; she was aware enough to know that. The only thing that could fill that hollowness in her soul was . . . was out of her reach, maybe forever. She didn’t have time to let despair consume her, because Troy had suddenly plopped down in the seat across from her.
“Hey, Tsurugi,” he greeted.
“Hi, Troy,” Karin answered dully.
“We need to talk.”
“About?”
“The shared focus of our affections. I believe you call her . . .” His voice dropped so low, only her hearing could register it. “Arachne.”
Karin snapped alert. “How do you know about that?”
“Amazing the things you learn after stepping in extraterrestrial goop.”
“A symbiote? You have one, too?”
“Yeah. Unfortunately, I don’t have a cool name like ‘Venom’ or ‘Carnage’ or ‘Toxin.’” Troy’s tone sounded amused more than anything else. “Or even ‘Fearless.’”
“What do you want with me?”
“I want Audrey back. You do, too. We’re going to work together and get her back.”
“Are you serious?” Karin leaned in. “Do you even know where to begin looking?”
“As long as I have something to start with, I’m a very good tracker,” Troy replied. “Or at least, the Other is. And you have no choice. You’re self-destructing without her.”
“What do you know?”
“More than you think. So what do you say?”
“You don’t sound like you’re lying. But symbiotes are talented at body manipulation.”
Troy smiled, completely without irony. “You’ll just have to trust me.”
“Fine, but I even so much as sniff a double-cross and you burn.”
“Fair.”
In the NYX cell’s headquarters, Peter Parker endlessly reviewed the footage of Cuayin’s strikes. No, he wasn’t doing this as a means of formulating a strategy should Cuayin arrive on the coast looking for a fight. It was entirely personal for him; he was looking at the girl - no, young woman - who was called Callisto. The girl moved and fought with an uncanny agility and grace akin to his abilities, and even displayed more explicitly spiderlike techniques - wall-crawling and web-spinning - not to mention the spider symbol she bore on her chest. Aside from those things, something about her made his heart ache, like a ghost of a memory that cried for him to recognize her.
“Who are you?” he whispered.
“You don’t sleep?” X-23’s voice asked.
“Do you?” Peter retorted lowly.
“Point taken,” X-23 conceded. “You see a ghost in this girl, don’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“What does that ghost look like? Is it the ghost of what might have been, if you had not chosen to reveal yourself?”
“The ghost of something I once had a chance to have, and now something I will never ever have.”
X-23 was silent for only a minute, but that minute felt like a century. “Do you remember when we first met?”
“Yeah. Was wondering how Wolverine’s genes spawned you.”
“And I wondered why you talked so much and seemed to never take anything seriously. I . . . kind of liked that about you.”
“Those were the days,” Peter murmured ruefully.
“And now look at us.”
“Can’t worry about that now. Not with so much at stake.”
“Get some sleep,” X-23 grunted before departing.
That night, Karin and Troy were out on the streets - or technically above the streets. Karin leaped from rooftop to rooftop, using the energy grapples in her lances to swing where she could not leap, while Troy swung from building to building. Both were in costume, Karin wearing what resembled a black leather-and-mesh suit with red-highlighted black protective armor for her joints and Troy wearing a metallic navy suit with a bright red spiderlike symbol on his chest and a spiderlike red frame around the black eyes of his mask. The two made a strange pair, but they were in it for one purpose and one purpose alone, to find Audrey and bring her back to them.
“Is she anywhere in the city?” Karin asked.
“No . . .” Troy replied. “She’s much farther away. I can still feel her, but barely.”
“Why are you helping me with this?”
“I love her. You love her. We both need her. Ergo, I’m helping you.”
“Wow, did you rehearse that?” Karin quipped mordantly.
Troy let out a low “hmph,” which Karin merely took in stride. “Unless you have a way of getting us to her faster than this . . .”
“I do. Bodyslide.”
“Bodyslide?”
“Yeah. If I can lock onto Audrey’s biometric signal, I might be able to transport us to where she is.”
“That sounds good.” Troy looked at the clock tower where Karin operated as the leader of the Knights. “Is this it?”
“Yeah, although it’s kind of abandoned,” Karin replied.
“Abandoned? Why?”
“Let’s just say . . . after Audrey left, it became less worthwhile for us to stick together. We’ve mostly gone our separate ways.”
“That sucks,” Troy commented, swinging up onto the tower’s balcony. Karin landed beside him. “Is anyone still here?”
“Nightshade and Artemis. That’s about it.”
The two went inside, heading for the central hub of the Knights’ base. Passing through the lounge area, they were spotted by Nightshade, who teleported over for a greeting. “Hey! Bringing boys here now, Fearless Leader?”
“Yeah,” Karin replied. “He’s a friend. Say hi to . . .” She looked at Troy questioningly, also hoping that he’d managed to come up with a somewhat clever name for himself.
“Trance,” Troy replied.
“Trance, huh?” Nightshade remarked. “Nice one. You here to help find Spider-Lady?”
“Yeah,” Trance affirmed.
“Where’s Artemis?” Karin inquired.
“Taking out her frustrations on Tsukikishi in the gym area,” Nightshade answered.
“How, exactly?” Karin asked.
Judging by how Nightshade’s temperature rose and her breathing became somewhat faster and shallower, Karin had her answer. “Never mind. Come on, Trance.”
Karin took Trance to the base computer. “Engage search for biometric signature designated ‘Arachne.’”
“Search engaged,” the computer answered.
“How long do you think this is going to take?” Trance wondered.
“Considering that we have to go through roughly 500 million people in this country alone, I’d say not very long,” Karin replied.
Before Trance could say anything more, the computer piped up with, “Search concluded. Biometric signature ‘Arachne’ unable to be located due to presence concealment technology.”
“Where is the source of the concealment technology?” Karin asked.
“Location of camouflage: Denver, Colorado,” the computer answered. “Warning: Due to presence concealment, it is impossible to pinpoint the specific location of biometric signature ‘Arachne.’ Physical search will be necessary to locate Arachne.”
“That’s fine,” Karin said. “You’ve helped out plenty, anyway.” She turned to Trance.
“Are we going to try this bodyslide thing of yours?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied. “Bodyslide by two.”
When dawn broke, the dam of peace burst and war flooded the streets. In New York City, the Avengers suddenly found their base invaded by twenty “wardrones” resembling green-and-silver versions of the armor last worn by the original Iron Man accompanied by five women, the leader being Callisto. Beside her was a Peruvian woman dressed in form-fitting black with phosphorescent lightning highlights, a Latverian girl garbed in metallic silver, a Filipino woman whose costume consisted of bandages wrapped around her body almost to the point of mummification, and a Haitian girl with metal braces around her forearms and calves.
“Who are you?” Captain America asked.
“Your world’s redeemers,” Callisto replied.
In Denver, Thunderbolts Mountain was torn open by an invisible force, soon revealed to be Cuayin with four women and twenty “wardrones” accompanying her. Three of those women were the shadow user Atieno, the light wielder Lesedi, and the “star-heart” shaper Nthanda. The fourth was younger, not long ago having outgrown pubescence, her features disguised by a strange black cloak.
“Damn it!” Gyrich swore. He was going to have the heads of everyone in security for this; something like this should never have slipped through their defenses.
“Hello, Niles Jason Gyrich,” Cuayin greeted coldly. “Hard at work carrying on the hateful legacy of your parents, hmm?”
“You’re the reason people like my parents existed,” Gyrich answered. “Self-styled gods thinking they don’t have to respect the laws that we ordinary humans abide by.”
“We don’t have to. Not when those laws were born out of the intent to keep the less enfranchised members of society, most particularly women, ‘in their place.’”
“Just like an American to think his laws were meant for anything other than repressing people who don’t look like him or share his anatomy,” Nthanda sneered.
While this tête-à-tête was happening, the wardrones were swarming into the base, mowing down Sentinels and Guardsmen with cold precision. At that moment, the Thunderbolts were triggered into acting via the neural implants that kept them relatively disciplined. They fought bravely against the wardrones, but the ones relying on elemental powers - namely Yukionna and Flashfire - were sorely outclassed, as the drones simply powered through their attacks and subdued them with inhuman strength. In fact, similar to Sentinels, they had countermeasures programmed for various super-powers, as Yukionna discovered when she was “sweated” into unconsciousness and Flashfire was doused with oxygen-eating chemicals, preventing him from using his powers.
The Beetle found that his own armor, although considerably powerful, was no match for the superior firepower and durability of the wardrones. When he attempted to use the armor’s microwave emitters to blast the wardrones, they simply powered through his fire and beat him into submission. As for Venom, her artificial symbiote might have made her considerably tougher and faster than she’d been with the cloned symbiote she originally wore, but the wardrone she was fighting proved even stronger. It demonstrated that in a simple punch through her symbiotic armor, which penetrated her more vulnerable flesh and was followed up by an energy pulse that internally electrocuted her.
V6 was the only one who seemed to at least be able to evade the wardrones without taking much damage, and Jaeger’s Nanosentinel makeup rendered him almost impossible to kill. Unfortunately for him, his luck ended when Cuayin dashed in front of him, a blur even to his bullet-timed senses, and used her hand like a knife, stabbing him in the stomach.
In California, the team known as Force Works was attacked by a small swarm of wardrones. Of course, when the wardrones were lethal weapons mechanized into human shape, even a “small” swarm was not something to be taken lightly. As such, Force Works was taking the invasion absolutely seriously, and doing their utmost to prevent any innocent deaths.
The team consisted of five members in all. The leader was Lady Liberty, the daughter of erstwhile super-soldier Jingo. The second-in-command was Steel Spider, a man in silver-and-navy armor akin to the Scarlet Spiders’. Their tech genius was Jupiter, whose ability to store and release electromagnetic radiation came in handy when dealing with electronics. Their “muscle” was She-Bomb, a woman who had been given the same gamma radiation treatment as the original Abomination and even resembled the Abomination, albeit much more pleasant to look at. Their stealth operative was called Whizzer, so named because the only evidence of his presence when using his speed powers was a breezy sound.
With their extraordinary abilities, regardless of source, Force Works fought mightily against the wardrones. Lady Liberty used her photonic shield to damage the wardrones, if not outright destroy them, while the Steel Spider used the extendable legs to outright stab the wardrones in their optics. Jupiter generated an electromagnetic pulse to disable the wardrones, but their insulation simply meant that he knocked out power to half the city. Fortunately, Steel Spider’s armor was also insulated from electromagnetic pulses.
“It wasn’t a bad idea in theory,” Steel Spider mumbled to Jupiter.
“Just don’t try that again unless you’re sure it’ll work,” She-Bomb added, while punching through a wardrone’s head.
“Just where did these guys come from?” Lady Liberty asked.
A lightning bolt suddenly struck the ground where Force Works was fighting, materializing into a woman seemingly made out of blue energy with lightning-like edges. “Hello,” she greeted.
“We’re screwed,” Whizzer muttered.