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| Issue #13 March 2007 |
"Dead And Gone" Written by John Bush |
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“So, you come to this neighborhood often? Me, I pass by all the time. Never stop, though,” Spider-Man quipped, leaping through a giant hole left in the glass walls of Edward J. Harper’s New York office. Eddie – apparently also known as the Chameleon – was hiding under his desk. Hiding from what, you ask? An eight-legged robotic monstrosity, previously reserved for splattering friendly neighborhood Spider-Men across downtown Manhattan. Somehow it just didn’t seem right for it to be making a b-line for someone else.
The robot turned to face the webhead, red camera-eye zooming on its new target. The Chameleon bolted from his hiding place, making for the private elevator. No use – the slayer fired a weighted net from a forward-mounted cannon. The Chameleon wasn’t going anywhere, for now.
Spider-Man fired a webline at two of the robot’s legs. Once the webbing was secured, he pulled as hard as he could, trying to topple the slayer. That plan backfired in a funny way – instead of sending the Spider-Slayer to the ground, the two legs were pulled clean off!
“Hmm… Don’t make you guys like they used to, eh?” Spidey smirked, “Guess the indirect approach won’t be necessary, then.”
Spider-Man launched himself at his foe, feet first. He caught the robot in its head, knocking it off and sending it flying out the window. The webhead hoped it wouldn’t hit someone on the sidewalk below, but, honestly, who would be walking around at this time of night?
Without its visual apparatus, the robot proved even easier to defeat. A few punches from proportional-strength-of-a-spider-strong fists tore through the slayer’s torso. It collapsed to the ground, a few exposed wires sparking furiously before dying away.
“So, Cammy – can I call you Cammi? I’ll just call you Cammi – any idea why this thing would be coming after –”
Spider-senses hit him like a runaway truck. He whipped his head around, in time to see a full-face masked blonde in a black leather bodysuit place a .45 to the Chameleon’s head. She pulled the trigger while the webline was still in mid-air.
Too late.
“Now that was uncalled for,” Spidey said, shooting a webline at the blonde assassin. She ducked, tossing a few small, silver balls over the floor. They burst on impact, releasing a thick fog. He could hear her heals click towards the elevator, but he couldn’t see or sense her. She wasn’t trying to kill him, at least. He started running in her direction, just in time to hear the elevator doors shut.
“Well, that’s just great,” Spider-Man mumbled to himself, “Guess I’ll take the webline express to the lobby and cut her off.”
*************
“Figures she’d disappear on me,” Spidey grumbled to himself. The blonde hadn’t come out of the elevator, and he hadn’t seen her leave through the front door. He had lost her. Sirens sounded behind him; the cops were on their way. Giant robot fight probably produced a few phone calls. He thwipped a webline to a nearby building – no sense getting caught up in this. Last thing he needed was Jonah linking Spider-Man to the murder of a famous movie producer.
He didn’t have any way to follow her now, though. Nothing to do now, except – wait. Before the Spider-Slayers came, the trio of baddies he fought; Shocker, Mysterio, and Rhino. They said it was only the start.
Spider-Man let himself drop to the roof of a nearby high-rise. He perched himself under a gargoyle and got down to thinking.
There was obviously a connection between the Slayers and the Chameleon. Was there a connection between them and whoever amped up the Shocker, Rhino, and Mysterio? All three villains’ powers were related to technology in some way, but that was the only connection.
“No other leads, and I never did follow-up on the three musketeers,” Spidey mused.
*************
Herman Schultz blinked his eyes open. He went to scratch his left arm, but found it restricted.
“That’s right,” he mumbled, “Still in the casts.”
The lump of plaster around each forearm itched like crazy. Now that he was aware of it, it itched even more. It was maddening. Almost as maddening as dealing with the blue-and-red clad wall-crawler standing in Herman’s doorway.
“What do you want?” the former Shocker asked sourly, “Come to gloat, or something?”
“I’ve come to lend you a hand… oops. Sorry.”
“Jerk.”
“But seriously, the blonde in the mask. Who is she?”
“What blonde?”
“You know the one. Black leather. Covers your boss’s tracks.”
“I’m not saying anything.”
“She killed the Chameleon. You think she’s not coming after you next?”
“Pssh. You’re a lousy liar, insect.”
“Arachnid,” Spider-Man said, picking up the remote for the hospital’s TV. The hero hit the power button. A news anchor’s vacant smile blinked onto the screen.
“…And in other news, the body of super-villain the Chameleon was found at the site of a battle between Spider-Man and a robot similar to those that attacked the city last week. The battle took place in the Manhattan offices of famous movie producer Edward J. Harper. No word on whether or not Harper was anywhere near the scene of the fight.”
Spider-Man hit the off button and turned back to Schultz.
“Well?” the wall-crawler asked. Schultz had turned a pale shade of white.
“She always came to us, but she set up a hideout for us, and not the one we took you to. You might find something there.”
“Where?”
*************
Spider-Man knelt on the edge of the waterfront gates. He could see the warehouse Schultz had told him to find; it was the first one inside the gate. He leapt from his perch to the roof of his target, and spotted a skylight in the center of the roof. He crept over to it, eyes searching the roof for traps, mind waiting for any little tingle of the spider-sense. Looking in the window, he saw nothing suspicious. It appeared that the warehouse had been cleaned out. He carefully undid the lock on the outside of the skylight – wait. A lock on the outside?
Too late – his spider-sense beat his skull like a drum. He backflipped through the air as a small explosive charge took out the skylight and a bit of the surrounding roof. He landed on a sturdy section of the roof.
“So much for stealth,” he said under his breath. He crept up to the hole in the roof and leapt to the ground while the dust was still settling. Perhaps he could surprise whoever may have been in there. As the dust finally cleared, the lighted portions of the room were still empty.
“It took you long enough, Peter,” a familiar female voice called from a dark corner. Her voice cut to the bone, froze his feet to the ground. It was slightly drawled, but unmistakably hers.
“Gwen…?” he asked meekly, turning around to see the blonde woman from before emerge from the darkness.
“The very same,” a sinister, raspy voice called as a short man in a robe hobbled out of the darkness behind her. He pulled the hood from his head, revealing a green, angular face.
“Jackal,” Spidey cursed, under his breath, “This was you, the whole time. That trio, the slayers, the Chameleon… it was all you?”
“Not all me, of course,” the Jackal responded, “I had a friend give me a hand with the electronics. Have you ever heard of the Machinesmith? He’s quite good, if you can meet his price. Unfortunately, when you beat his first wave, he got a little weary and skipped town on me. I tried to build a few myself, with Gwen’s help, but, well… you saw how well that worked out tonight, didn’t you?”
“That’s not Gwen. Gwen’s dead, Warren. The Green Goblin killed her –”
“You killed her! Your selfishness, your arrogance - that killed her! Your glory-hogging in the name of ‘altruism’ is what killed her! Her death is on your head! And I will make you pay for it in blood!”
“You… how dare you!” Spider-Man screamed, launching himself across the room at the robed villain. Gwen stepped in the way, taking the punch meant for her creator. The mask covering her face was knocked clean off, revealing the soft outline of her cheek, leading down to the chin. Spider-Man saw her profile and was stunned. It wasn’t Gwen, he knew that – Gwen died. But this clone – she was just so similar.
“Don’t lay a hand on her! Don't you dare do that again!” the Jackal screamed, leaping over the clone of his love at the webhead. His claws cut into Spider-Man’s flesh; tearing into Spidey’s left shoulder and right side. Spider-Man grunted at the pain, easily throwing the green-furred villain away. As he flew through the air, the Jackal’s robe fluttered off, cluttering on the floor. When the Jackal hit the ground, Spider-Man could see his sorry state. He was more skeleton than human; skin hung from bone like towels draped on the rack. How had he even found the strength to lunge as fiercely as he had?
Spider-senses went off again, as a grenade rolled into Spider-Man’s left foot. He leapt as far away as he could as it exploded behind him. He rolled back to his feet, ready to fight. He caught sight of Gwen – no, the clone – as she helped the Jackal to his feet. They retreated into the darkness. Spider-Man charged after them.
He couldn’t see anything in the dark, instead relying on his spider-senses. He heard a door slam shut; the only door into the warehouse was on the other side of the room. Spider-Man guessed there was a trap-door around the warehouse somewhere, so he took a gamble. He knelt on the ground and web-gloved his hands. They felt heavy, but at least they were protected. He raised them over his head, and beat the ground. Wood and concrete cracked, and gave way. The ground beneath him disappeared. He fell to whatever awaited him below.
*************
“Just a few more steps, Miles. We’ll get you to the computer, and you can transfer your brainwaves into another clone,” the Gwen-clone said in a soothing tone to the near-dead figure slung over his shoulder.
“Yessssss,” the Jackal said weakly, slurring his words, “A fewww morrrre feeeeettttt…”
The ceiling behind them exploded and caved in. The clone turned around, brushing the hair out of her face. Spider-Man landed in a crouch, and turned his head towards the Gwen-clone, seeing her face for the first time.
“What the hell…?” he said, repulsed. The half of her face he hadn’t seen before was disfigured, scarred; the skin looked as though it had started to melt off, but then froze in place.
“Did you think I wore a mask for fun?” she said, “I wore it because my face disturbed the master.”
She clenched her fists and assumed a defensive stance; she was ready for a fight. She coughed once, twice – then clenched her stomach and fell over. She coughed again, and blood spattered the floor in front of her.
“I’m sorry, master, I didn’t last… long… enough,” she lapsed into a fit of hacking coughs, and dropped to the floor silently.
“Gwen!” Spider-Man yelled, “What happened to her, Warren, tell me, or so help me…!”
“Deeeead,” the Jackal said from the floor, struggling for breath and still slurring his speech, “Ssssheee, issss, deeead.”
Why? How!?”
“Clonessss. Celllllular breakdownnnn. Accellerrrrrrated. Ussssed herrrrr tissssssue ssssssampllllle tooo mmmmuch. Becccccame unssssstablllllle.”
“What’s… what’s wrong with you?”
“Ssssamme problemmmmm, but morrrrre advanccccced. I’m dyiiiiing. Sssssssave mmmmeeeee, herrrrrro…”
Spider-Man made his way to the downed villain, stopping at the clone’s body along the way. Gwen. She looked just like Gwen.
“You’ve already died, Warren. Just like she did. It’s time to let you both rest.”
“Ssssselfish… basssstarddddd…”
The Jackal fell silent. His chest stopped rising and falling. His eyes glazed over.
“Speak for yourself,” Spider-Man responded quietly. A television monitor behind him flashed to life.
“Hello, intruder or intruders,” the Jackal’s voice, except much livelier, said from the screen, “If you’re seeing this message, then you’ve killed me before I could transfer my mind to another clone. You have beaten me. I do not take kindly to that. This facility will explode in fifteen seconds. I tell you this because, unless you are some sort of superhuman, it is impossible for you to escape. I regret that I am not alive to enjoy my revenge.”
The screen went blank, but Spider-Man wasn’t around to see it. He was already through the hole he had punched in the ceiling, sprinting for the warehouse door. He smashed through it with his shoulder, and leapt for the top of the gate, as the ground rumbled behind him. Torrents of fire and debris erupted from the structure behind him, bringing it crashing to the ground in a cloud of dust and fire. Spider-Man turned around from his roost on the gate, watching the fires dance around the debris. He left before the police arrived.
*************
Spider-Man returned to his apartment, drained from the night’s adventures. He crawled in though his usual window, left unlocked, as always. A quick glance around the bedroom, and he was grateful once again that he hadn’t been robbed. Leaving anything with fire escape access unlocked in New York was a bad idea, but your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man didn’t feel safe leaving a bag of clothes on the roof to change into. They might get stolen.
He pulled off his mask, and Peter Parker took a deep breath, before the cascade of tears streamed down his face. Gwen. The clone’s face, it was so similar to Gwen’s that night she – that he – when he couldn’t –
“Oh, God,” Peter whispered, burying his face in his hands, “Why does it still hurt?”
*************
Peter awoke the next morning to the ringing of his phone. The caller ID box read “Caller Unknown.” Peter picked it up.
“I’m not buying any,” he said immediately, reaching his thumb for the off button.
“Tiger!”
His thumb stopped moving. Why now? So soon after last night?
“Hey, MJ. What’s up?”
“I saw you on the TV. At Eddie’s –I guess it was actually the Chameleon’s -office.”
Peter winced.
“Someone saw that?”
“Yeah.”
“And today’s Bugle…?”
“Tore you a new one. You sound like crap. Hard fight?”
Not as hard the one that came after, he wanted to say, but he stopped himself.
“Yeah. Robots can be pretty rough.”
“Are you all right.”
“No – I mean, yeah. I just got hit on the head. I’m a little off-center today.”
“Do you want me to come over?”
“No!” he responded quickly, loudly, “I mean, no. I’ll be all right. I just need a day to heal. I don’t want you to worry.”
“Ok,” she responded slowly, suspiciously, “I just – hold on. Something’s on the news about last – ohmigod!”
“What? What’s wrong?”
“Eddie Harper, they – he – they found him in his apartment last night. They think he’s been dead for at least six months. Oh, God… that’s horrible. The Chameleon must have been replacing him for… oh, God…”
“Jeez,” Peter sighed, “MJ, I’m really sorry.”
“It’s all right,” she said, “I… guess I owe you an apology.”
“What for?”
“When I got mad at you, for, for…”
“Oh, at lunch the other day? When we met Ed – er, the Chameleon? No, forget about it. Wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t possibly have known.”
“Still…”
“Forget it. Look, MJ, I really need to get some sleep. Call me tonight, OK? Maybe we can do something later.”
“All right,” MJ said, “Later, Tiger.”
“Bye bye, MJ.”
*************
Peter woke up, feeling like dirt. He wasn’t tired, but he didn’t feel like getting out of bed. Her face was still burned into his eyes.
“Gwen,” he whispered, under his breath.
“She’s dead, from what I heard,” a gruff voice said. Peter shot up in bed. Nick Fury sat on a chair in the corner of the room.
“How did you get in?”
“Super-spy secret, bug. Sorry to hear about your old girlfriend, again. That must be rough.”
“What are you doing here?”
“We need to talk to you about last night. We couldn’t keep your connection with the Harper thing a secret, but we managed to keep you separate from the warehouse.”
“What, are you following me, or something?”
“Yeah, we have been. We needed to figure out who put the hit out on the Secretary General. Some things still don’t add up, but we have managed to figure out it was the Jackal that hired the Chameleon to do it.”
“Why?”
“That’s one of the things that doesn’t add up. Near as we can tell, the Jackal was out to get you. No reason for him to involve us in the mess, or the Secretary General, for that matter. I can see him hiring all your old bad guys, but the assassination doesn’t make any sense. You have any ideas?”
“Not really.”
“If you think of anything, let me know,” Fury stood up, and before leaving the bedroom, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for everything that happened. We wouldn’t have contacted you, but he requested that you specifically be the one to check out the lead, or else he would blow up a subway train.”
“Well, that’s good to know,” Peter said. Fury turned to leave the room, when Dum Dum Dugan blocked the doorway.
“This video came in Parker’s mail, from one M. Warren,” Dugan said gruffly, “Do yeh have a VCR, Parker?”
“Yeah,” Peter said, starting to get out of bed, “Wait, I’m not wearing pants. Can you guys give me a second?”
“Sure thing,” Fury said.
*************
“All right, I’m ready. Hit play,” Peter said, dropping onto the couch. Nick Fury nodded at Dugan from the armchair, and the burly Irishman started the tape. The Jackal’s emaciated face appeared on the screen.
“Hello, Parker. If you haven’t figured it out by now, it is I, The Jackal, who has destroyed your life.”
“Huh?” Peter said.
“It was my schemes that brought you to the office building in New Jersey, my schemes that forced you to take action to stop the assassination attempt, therefore revealing your true identity to the public!”
“This would be sad, if it weren’t so funny,” Fury laughed out loud.
“Now everyone you love will be a target. Your dear Aunt May. Your precious students. And that beautiful, perfect, harlot you took to after you killed my beloved Gwen.”
“Oh, jeez,” Fury said. Peter balled his fists.
“How could you have fallen for that vacuous, superficial whore if you truly loved Gwen Stacy? How could someone like Mary Jane Watson possibly compare to her? No – you just killed Gwen and moved on. You killed the only woman I have ever loved, and then just walked away.”
“That’s not fair,” Peter whispered angrily.
“I’ve enjoyed making your life horrible over the last few weeks, Peter. But it’s only started. I’m going to enjoy making you really suffer, Parker. I really am.”
The Jackal smiled sinisterly before the screen cut to black.
“Ach… what an idiot,” Dugan smiled, “Well, it was good t’see yeh again, boyo, but we’ve got to head out.”
Dugan headed for the front door and opened it. Fury got up from his chair and looked at Peter.
“I’m sorry about this, kid. Really. If we had known it was just this idiot, well… we wouldn’t have gotten you involved. I wish I could have kept you out of this, bug, I mean that.”
“No – it’s better this way,” Peter said, “At least this way, I know it’s over. Maybe now I can finally lay Gwen to rest.”
Fury nodded and walked out the door. Dugan smiled as he pulled the door shut behind his boss. Peter leaned back into the couch and sighed. He had to finish his lesson plan for Monday.
*****END*****
That’s it for me, folks. I’m sad to announce that this is my last issue on the title. When I came on, I was excited as hell about this assignment. But as time wore on, I kept reading the actual Marvel comics, and, well, the unthinkable happened. They burned me out on Spider-Man. Even my Spider-Man isn’t fun to think about. And, when you get down to it, the whole fanfic hobby is about having fun. I’m grateful to all the people who have read and enjoyed the issues I’ve written – this would have sucked completely without you.
-John Bush
