They looked like a happy pair, the father walking his baby daughter in a stroller. It was a beautiful day for a walk on the street. It looked like the little girl was laughing, and her father had a smile on his face. Such a pity it had to end, thought the observer as he notched the arrow in his bow and pulled back.
*thunk* The arrow penetrated the top of the stroller with the point sticking into the side, well away from little May Parker's head. Peter Parker hadn't sensed anything until the sound of the arrow and his daughter's crying shocked him out of the happy reverie. Acting on instinct honed by years of experience Peter scanned the rooftops, instantly finding where the arrow had been fired but seeing no one.
Rapidly moving himself and baby May into the cover of an alley, Peter reached for the arrow. Black haft, feathers and point, with the only white being a note wrapped around the haft near the feathers. Peter carefully removed the arrow and unwrapped the note. It was a short message.
Get Spider-Man to the Brooklyn Bridge at dusk.
Peter Parker crumbled the note in his hand. Whoever it was, if they wanted Spider-Man they would get Spider-Man.
*thunk* The arrow penetrated the top of the stroller with the point sticking into the side, well away from little May Parker's head. Peter Parker hadn't sensed anything until the sound of the arrow and his daughter's crying shocked him out of the happy reverie. Acting on instinct honed by years of experience Peter scanned the rooftops, instantly finding where the arrow had been fired but seeing no one.
Rapidly moving himself and baby May into the cover of an alley, Peter reached for the arrow. Black haft, feathers and point, with the only white being a note wrapped around the haft near the feathers. Peter carefully removed the arrow and unwrapped the note. It was a short message.
Get Spider-Man to the Brooklyn Bridge at dusk.
Peter Parker crumbled the note in his hand. Whoever it was, if they wanted Spider-Man they would get Spider-Man.
Back to GatefoldIssue #30 by Chris Munn (plot) & Steve Crosby (script)
The Friend of My Friend is My Enemy |
The monitor beeped rhythmically, matching the Blizzard’s heartbeat precisely. It meant he was still alive. Not awake, nor even functional, only alive. He remained unmoving in the bed that Songbird sat beside, the same condition he has been in for over a week. Since the day Quantum had returned Blizzard, Boomerang and Blacklash from their mission of reprisal.
Songbird’s mind couldn’t help but flash back to that day. Blizzard had been seriously injured, suffering from wounds in both sides that had also registered signs of frostbite. The surgeons had been forced to cut away dead flesh, and when no longer numb from the cold Blizzard had been in extraordinary pain. Instead of given drugs for the pain, Blizzard had insisted on a medically-induced coma.
Several beds down, Boomerang was actually worse off. He hadn’t arrived with any serious wounds, only minimal brain functions and an uncontrollable shiver. The doctors’ best guess was that Boomerang had voluntarily withdrawn from the world. In a way, so too had Blizzard.
With a sigh, Songbird stood up. She was tired of waiting, tired of watching a guy that she’d likely start fighting with the second he woke up. The only reason she’d started was because Blizzard had refused drugs, and she’d hoped…but no. Most likely he only wanted a more permanent escape. And god, that screaming…
Outside the medical wing Songbird found Blacklash waiting in the hall. He was worse, never leaving his so-called friends but not having the balls to look at them. He scowled at Songbird, and she resisted the urge to slap him.
“Still no change?” he asked, not expecting an answer. “I am going to fucking kill that Mr. White.”
“Weren’t you supposed to do that in the first place?” Songbird started to turn and walk away, but thought better of it. “Why didn’t he do anything to you? For that matter, why didn’t he just kill you all?”
“Because he wanted a message sent.” Blacklash had said all this before. Not everything Mr. White had told him, for one that the man had referred to himself as the Death-Stalker. The way he’d said it, it was supposed to have meant something, but Blacklash had never heard of the name. “The deal Hammer had made with White went wrong somehow, and now Mr. White is going to come for him.”
True enough, though Blacklash neglected to mention that ‘Justin Hammer’ was really Baron Zemo. And that the deal had involved giving Mr. White a host body of some kind, one that was now breaking down. Baron Zemo certainly didn’t know what Blacklash knew, as he would have killed him to protect the secret. Blacklash was keeping the information to himself because he didn’t give a shit. He’d be out of it soon enough anyway.
“Let him come,” Songbird said. “I’ll kill him myself.”
At that, Blacklash smiled. “Why, because he beat on your boyfriend?”
“Because he betrayed us and nearly got me killed!”
“Exactly.” Blacklash stepped forward. “You don’t give a shit about Blizzard anymore. Tell me Mimi, have you been waiting all this time so that the first thing he hears is you breaking up with you?”
The slap hurt, but Songbird’s scream would have hurt more. “Don’t you dare call me that again!”
Blacklash couldn’t hold back the smile. “Right, you’d rather forget what you were. Well tough tittie bitch, because you’re just like me and Donnie and Fred, and even Melvin.”
“I’m done being a criminal like the rest of you.”
Blacklash laughed in her face. “Whatever you say, but that’s not what I’m saying. The fact is we ain’t anything special, just some thugs with better equipment than most. Donnie knows that better than anyone, wearing a dead man’s invention on his back. Any of us die, Hammer will just hand our gear to some other poor shmuck. Or haven’t you heard about the attempts to make a new Shrike?”
Songbird had heard. Supposedly two men had died in surgery, unable to survive the attempt to graft an anti-gravity generator to the spine. Simon Maddicks had only survived because of mutagenic conditioning by the Brand Corporation, though that hadn’t helped him against Bushwacker.
But Songbird shook her head. “No, I’m going to fall into some ‘us versus them’ mentality.”
“That’s not what I’m getting at. Hammer doesn’t give a shit about us. That attack on us had to be answered so I went along, and yeah, if I ever see Mr. White again he will die. But that’s going to be on my terms. I’m done risking my life for someone else.”
“Then why haven’t you already left?” Songbird asked.
“Because I also don’t abandon my friends. As soon as Fred and Donnie have recovered, I’m asking them to come with me out of Dodge. And while I’d prefer to never see your face again, I’m advising you to go your own way.”
“Your concern touches me,” said Songbird. “Maybe I’ll consider it.”
The double-meaning was clear to Blacklash, and he didn’t mind being told to fuck-off. He didn’t care if Songbird lived or died, and didn’t press the matter further. The uneasy teammates parted, hostility still thick between them. Once both were out of sight, a woman’s beautiful face appeared from inside the wall.
“Well, that was certainly interesting,” Moonstone said to herself.
# # # # # # # # # #
“I don’t think she would like us meeting together like this,” Melvin Potter said to the three other men in his circle. “She only ever wants to meet with us alone.”
“Well, that’s usually the first sign that we should do something,” said Erik Josten. “Anybody here who thinks that Karla Sofen actually cares about helping us, cares about anything other than helping herself, raise a hand.”
Melvin didn’t raise his hand. Neither did Samuel Smithers or Richard Rennselaer. The four men were seated in a rough circle of eight chairs, with one chair between each of them. Melvin had insisted on that, and it was kind of freaking out Erik and Richard how the man kept glancing to the empty chair on his left. Samuel either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Erik suspected the latter.
Erik nodded. “Right, well, it was something I’d been thinking about. We’ve all been through some, you know, some rough stuff these past few weeks. And the one person here that we’re really supposed to talk to about it, well, we can’t really trust her. Back when I was with the Marines, the only people we felt comfortable talking about this kind of stuff with were men from our unit.”
“I know guys in SHIELD did that too,” Richard said. His words came out as little more than a mumble, as his face was still swelled from bee stings. The others were able to understand him though. “Not me, though maybe if I did…”
“That only matters if they care about each other,” Samuel said. “None of you care about me. Fred Myers didn’t care when it had appeared Buskwacker killed me.”
“That’s because you were dead,” Melvin said with a cruel grin. “If we stopped to cry over every dead body the world would drown.”
“He’s right,” Erik said. “For the dead we can’t do anything. But alive we watch each other’s backs, and making sure our heads are on straight is a part of that. And yeah, it benefits us too, because we’re only as strong as our weakest link.”
There was a brief silence before Richard said, “I had a son. He was the reason I became a traitor.”
“That is not uncommon,” Samuel said with as little emotions as his earlier remarks. “Children are often used as leverage to make parents do things they shouldn’t.”
But Richard shook his head. “No, it wasn’t like that. My son…he’d suffered from something called Nuclear Psychosis, was so terrified of nuclear annihilation that he withdrew completely from the world. I thought that I could get him out of it by launching all of America’s nuclear stockpile into the ocean.”
Unable to stop himself, Melvin laughed. “Oh, that was such a stupid idea.”
Rather than get angry, Richard nodded his head. “Yeah, I didn’t stop to think what other nuclear countries would do once the missiles launched. Or how to stop the government from making more weapons, probably from the nukes that weren’t on missiles. Like I said, maybe if I’d spoken to other guys in SHIELD.”
“What has become of your son?” Samuel asked.
“He’s in a facility here just outside the city. Mr. Hammer arranged to have him moved there from West Virginia, and he’s paying the bills. So,” Richard leaned forward. “That’s why I’m here.”
“Is that that we are supposed to do?” Samuel asked. “Confess to our fears and motivations? If that is the case I will have nothing to contribute.”
“Not exactly,” Erik said. “We could just talk about things that have happened to us. For instance, I came close to loosing it last week. After going all out the way I did against Abomination I was filled with an urge to…to kill the reporters and police officers outside.”
“That was just your adrenaline up,” said Richard. “You’d just almost killed a man, the police were pointing their guns at you-”
“I didn’t deserve that!” Erik grew another foot in height with the outburst. “I’m a hero now! They had no right treating me like a criminal!”
Everybody’s reaction was different. Richard immediately leaned back, his chair scrapping on the floor. Melvin stood up, his fists clenched as though he was eager for a brawl. Samuel didn’t move at all, merely staring calmly at Erik. As though he suddenly realized what he was doing, Erik forced a deep breath and shrank back to normal size.
“I’m sorry…I…I just can’t escape it. I try to make up for things, to be a hero, and all anyone sees is the scary Goliath who once beat Hercules into a coma. It’s like whatever I do, I’ll only ever be remembered as a criminal.”
“At least people look at you with fear.” That was the last thing any of the three expected Melvin Potter to say. Even Samuel couldn’t help but feel uneasy around the man. “After I got help, tried to just run my costume shop, it seemed like wiseguys would stop by every month to strongarm me, get me to do a job or dress an imposter super-hero. It never really came of anything, but only because Daredevil watched out for me. He was the one they feared, but me, I was nothing to them!”
At that, Samuel frowned. “But then why bother you?”
Melvin looked at him, not understanding it. Richard thought he got it though.
“Yeah, why? I mean, there are other tailors, the ones who make their custom suits for instance. And if they figured you for a pushover, why force you to dress up and do their dirty work?”
“Because I was expendable,” said Melvin. “Somebody who couldn’t be easily traced to them, who wouldn’t be missed if killed, and just written off as a nutjob.”
But Samuel shook his head. “No, I don’t think that’s it. Those men may have been trying to prove something to themselves. It would impress their men, pushing around a dangerous man that everybody feared.”
“Especially when they knew there was no danger in it,” said Betsy, Melvin’s dead wife who he saw in the seat next to him. “That’s the way of wiseguys. They only push against those they know won’t fight back.”
Melvin lowered his head in his hands. “I don’t know,” he muttered to himself. “I just don’t know.”
“It looks like neither of us can escape our past,” Erik said. “I can call myself Atlas or Goliath or Powerman or whatever I want, people will see what they want to see.”
“They see what they remember most,” said Samuel. “Whatever is most clear in their minds. For instance, what do you think when you see me?”
“The plant guy who rose from the dead and killed Bushwacker,” Richard said. Erik nodded in agreement.
“But that is a minor thing to me. I see it as though through a mist, as I do most that is not of the Green. What I do remember though….are the simuloids. Made of plants, I would create them to mimic others…or myself. Sometimes I would go so far as to implant my memories in them, grant them free will.” He raised an arm, more plant than flesh, and examined it with his eyes. “Could I be one? Am I really a plant who only things he’s a man?”
Lowering his arm, Taproot considered Erik and Melvin. “You see, there is no point in my past, in my memories. What I have now, what I will have in the future, that is what matters. Because that is all I have.”
And the green, Taproot did not say.
The door was thrown open, and Karla Sofen walked into the room. She did not look happy to see the four men talking to each other.
“What is going on here? Overrider, you’re the only one I’m scheduled to see today.”
The four men stood up. Melvin saw his wife still seated, watching Karla with considering eyes.
“We each had to speak with you,” Erik said. “You weren’t here, so we waited. But if you have time later Karla I’d like to talk about-”
“You shouldn’t be discussing your problems with each other. Especially not without me to moderate the conversation and prevent you boys from doing further damage. Do any of you really expect the others not to use any confessions against you?”
“She’s right,” only Melvin heard his wife say. “You may have to kill these men in their sleep. Or I could.” Gladiator tried not to think of what happened to Blackout when his back was turned.
“We didn’t think there was any-”
“Exactly Goliath, you didn’t think.” Karla stepped aside from the open door. “I’ll check my schedule and see if something can be arranged in the next few days. For now I need to speak with Overrider alone.”
After the other three men had left, Moonstone closed the door and faced her remaining patient. “Overrider, there’s something I’ve been meaning to speak with you about since the day you almost died. It concerns your unusually close connection with TESS-1.”
# # # # # # # # # #
"Where is he?"
The suit was big and bulky, with upgrades that included advanced sensors in the helmet. Abe Jenkins was scanning the Manhattan skyline but couldn't see anything. "Not here. Check if Fixer sees anything on the other side."
Speed Demon disappeared in a blur. Less than a minute later he was back alongside the armored Beetle. "Nothing there either. He's not coming."
Beetle didn't say anything, considering. The sun had been down for over three minutes now. "All right. Go send a message and leave the second-"
A hand reached up from over the side and grabbed Speed Demon's leg. “Here, I’ll help. Candygram!” Spider-Man leaped into the air with his passenger, and casually flicked his wrist. As Speed Demon was flying through the air, a large net of webbing was forming between the distant towers he would have passed through. “Darn, I just hate when those get lost in transit.”
Spider-Man moved fast, hopping onto the tower platform with Beetle. He rushed forward, a fist poised to smash. "That was a friend and his daughter you threatened!"
But the computer system in Beetle's suit allowed him to react just as fast. He raised an arm to block Spider-Man's punch, the long fingers of his glove wrapping around the Web-Slinger's wrist and sticking tight. “You thought I could be hit that easy?” Beetle's wings flapped rapidly, building the already high winds atop the bridge tower. Confident that he could, Beetle swung his arm to throw Spider-Man from the tower. “You think I’m the same loser? Do you?
His feet could have stuck fast to the platform, but Spider-Man allowed himself to be thrown. Flipping through the air with the wind, he fired web-line after web-line. “Yeah.” He swung around the tower, building his momentum until smashing at terrific speeds against the Beetle's back. “I kind of do.” As rapidly as they flapped, Spider-Man grabbed the Beetle's thing wings with little effort and crushed them in his hands.
"Aaah!" Beetled had linked the cybernetics of his suit to his nervous system. He felt what happened to the wings. He tried to swing about on the platform, to shake his opponent off. But Spider-Man's feet were stuck fast to Beetle's back, and his fists were smashing against the helmet with terrific force.
"My....friend's....daughter!"
"Good to know." Electricity surged out from Beetle's suit, his ‘Beetle Bite’. Shocked, Spider-Man was at last knocked from his dazed foe. "If by some miracle we don't kill you tonight, Spider-Man's got friends with daughters."
Beetle turned just in time to get a face full of webbing. “A big dummy like you will forget after a few blows to the skull.” Blinded, he couldn't see Spider-Man rush at him. Both went hurtling from the bridge tower. A beetle with no wings and a spider with a web-line but no willingness to lend a hand.
Response had been rapid since the appearance of a villain in a massive spider-web on the Brooklyn Bridge. In just minutes cars had been cleared from the streets, though that meant clogged traffic and an unlikelihood of authorities arriving anytime soon. Still, it meant nobody got hurt when Beetle slammed against the hard pavement. If there had been anything in his suit still working, it wasn't now.
“Darn it. I had such a good joke if Beetle had hit a windshield.”
Bouncing up on his makeshift bungie-cord, Spider-Man was over the tower when he saw a large, feminine shape plummeting at him from even higher. “And another. A girl, but I don’t see a bow.” Letting go of his web-line at the apex, Spider-Man twisted so that Man-Killer only half-tackled him. One arm around his waist, Spider-Man grabbed the wrist of Man-Killer's other arm and slugged her hard across the face. “Where’s the one with the bow?” She only lost a tooth. It was the crash against the pavement that separated the two.
Most of the impact had been taken on Man-Killer's shoulder, a dislocated mess that she painfully snapped back into place. "Gaahh!" Stepping forward on unsteady feet, she gave Spider-Man a gap-toothed grin. "You’re hurt, and I'm stronger."
Spider-Man had a lot more experience falling. He'd rolled with the fall and now faced Man-Killer on all fours. "So was Titania."
# # # # # # # # # #
The apartment was small, but neat and tidy. Marsha Rosenberg liked it, having everything in its place. When she hadn’t been living out of a suitcase, Marsha had been too busy using her powers for someone’s definition of ‘greater good.’ But that was all done with, and Marsha was glad to make up a home right.
Finally, after years wasted as the super-villain Volcana, she was back to living a normal life.
The doorbell rang. “I’m coming,” Marsha called out as she walked to answer it. Several of her new neighbors had already stopped by to introduce themselves. She threw open the door.
The gunshot took Marsha in the center of the forehead. Stumbling backward, she had attempted in the last split-second of life to transform, to become molten lava and therefore survive. Lava did leak out of the head wound instead of blood, but Marsha wasn’t transforming. With a gurgle, she fell backwards, dead.
The figure dressed in white stepped into the room, neglecting to close the door. Holstering his still smoking shotgun behind his back, the Scourge knelt down over the body and felt for a pulse. No heartbeat, but he noted a thin wisp of smoke was still rising out of the bubbling hole in Volcana’s head. Had it been an actual shotgun blast though, her head would have been gone.
It had been the hellfire that killed her, Scourge decided. She hadn’t been able to transform, her brain already burned by her sins. A remarkable weapon, the shotgun. Scourge couldn’t wait to use it on other villains that refused to die.
All in the service of Baron Zemo.
# # # # # # # # # #
Rhythm increased. Eyelids fluttered. A gasp escaped. Donnie Gill bolted upright in his bed, suddenly struggling to breath through all the tubes. Everything breath hurt, and unconsciously his hands moved for his sides. That was when he noticed the restraints.
“I assure you that’s only as a precaution. You were thrashing about quite a bit when Quantum returned you here.”
Donnie’s eyes shifted, taking in the image of Justin Hammer sitting next to his bed. The elderly man took a hand out of his pocket and placed it over Donnie’s bound wrist. Those eyes, so much younger than they should have been, seemed to drill into the Blizzard’s soul.
“Guh…the others?” he asked weakly.
“Boomerang has the bed next to you. I regret to say he isn’t doing nearly so well as yourself. But miraculously, Blacklash appeared to emerge unscathed. He claims that Mr. White wanted to send me a message.”
Justin Hammer leaned forward as he spoke, those eyes still fixed on Donnie. “When Quantum brought you in, you were conscious. Oh, in terrible pain, but still awake. That leads me to wonder if perhaps you overheard any of the exchange.”
“How…how long?”
“Ten days.”
Donnie closed his eyes. “Surprised he hasn’t come already.” His eyes reopened. “That was what Mr. Whtie said. That he was coming for all of us.”
“No one specifically?” The hand on Donnie’s wrist gripped tight. “He didn’t mention any names.”
Only yours, the Blizzard didn’t say. He knew that Baron Zemo was interrogating him and if it wasn’t for the catheter Blizzard would have pissed himself. “If he did I didn’t hear. Only that he was coming here. Something about…getting what he was owed.”
“I see.” The wrinkled old hand of Justin Hammer relaxed. “Well, just let him try. And you can take comfort in the fact that you won’t be here for that unpleasant business.”
Oh god. Blizzard knew he was going to die. His eyes darted around, looking for some kind of help. But there wasn’t any, never would have been any. Everybody in the building was in Hammers, was in Zemo’s, pocket.
“That’s right, my boy. I’m letting you go, with full payment and a new identity, as promised. And for Boomerang as well, should he ever recover. You both did me a great service, and your obligation to me is now at an end.”
Maybe there was some truth to that, Donnie figured. He wouldn’t be killed until he was out of the building. He hoped Fred would be spared though. Him and… “Blacklash?” Donnie had to ask.
“Oh,” Justin Hammer gave a warm but stern smile. “He may follow soon, but for now he’ll be remaining in my employ. Loyal men are so hard to find, and I’d hate to lose Blacklash just when I may need him the most.”
# # # # # # # # # #
The gleaming sword of Citizen V was pointed in the direction of a struggling Speed Demon. "Get him down," Citizen V told the Fixer. He then stepped off the tower onto the hovering V-Wing, alongside the waiting Black Archer. "You can then join us and Man-Killer."
Black Archer had an arrow nocked and ready. Like his weapons, Black Arrow's mask and entire costume were the same color as his name. "Provided Man-Killer hasn't, well, killed him yet." The V-Wing was nearly at ground level when a flying female shape rapidly approached. Black Arrow and Citizen V dived out of the way, and Man-Killer bounced three times off the hard asphalt. "Or not."
"More of you, and two I don't recognize?" Spider-Man gave a tremendous leap forward at the two villains. "Sheesh, what kind of Spidey Revenge Squad is this?"
"The kind that isn't about you," Black Arrow declared as he let the arrow fly. Before releasing, he'd pressed a switch on the large blunt point.
The loud screech of his Spider-Sense told Spider-Man he didn't want to be anywhere near that arrow. However, flipping out of its path didn't help much as the arrow still exploded. He suffered minor damage, but the force drove Spider-Man to the pavement, and into the path of an attacking Citizen V.
"Oh this is just too embarrassing." Spider-Man twists out of the way of Citizen V's sword just in time. "I am not getting cut up by some yahoo in a silver Wolverine-”
The buzz of his Spider-Sense had been dismissed by Spider-Man, as he’d assumed Citizen V’s sharp sword was the cause. That turned out to be a mistake, as a laser beam fired from the Fixer’s Tech-Pack sliced across Spider-Man’s leg. Pained, Spider-Man was barely able to roll away from Citzen V’s slash. The flat of the blade caught him in the side of the head, and Spider-Man fell onto his hand and flipped away.
“I am no rank amateur that you can distract with a few words,” Citizen V said. “My skill will overwhelm your pitiful powers and mmmffmm!”
Spider-Man had fired a web-line at Citizen V’s face, which the swordsman had managed to swipe away while still giving his speech. However, Spider-Man had fired two web-lines in quick succession, and the second pasted over Citizen V’s mouth. “I’m sorry, were you giving an evil villain speech? Post it on YouTube and I’ll watch later.”
Fixer fired a rapid succession of laser beams from his Tech-Pack. Spider-Man leaped over them and Fixer’s head. “See, I’m down with modern pop-culture. What about you, Ghostbuster?” Two web-lines caught either side of the Tech-Pack. “That thing a PC or Mac?” Pulling up on his web-lines in mid-air, Spider-Man was actually pulling himself down. He hit just as Fixer was looking up, making the blow a double foot to the face. “Oh, definitely PC.”
Somehow, the arrow hadn’t triggered Spider-Man’s sense. It slammed into his chest at the same instant contact was made with Fixer. A sticky substance ran over Spider-Man’s costume as he was thrown toward the pavement. At the last second Spider-Man flipped and landed on his feet.
“Funny joke,” Black Archer said as he fired another arrow. “Provides a segue to call me Un-PC.” The arrow split into three in mid-flight, with two caught by Spider-Man and the third knocked away by a foot. “But it’s really a ‘damned if I do, damned if I don’t’ situation.” After firing the arrow, Black Archer threw a bola, which wrapped around Spider-Man’s final foot. “Because really, who’s going to call himself African-American Archer?”
“Maybe an actual African-American?” Spider-Man said. Tossing the two arrows away, he leaped at Black Archer. “Which, I’m very sorry if you are, but that voice just sounds very very white to me.”
Ducking to the side, Black Arrow managed to avoid Spider-Man’s grasp. “You should know. Those might as well be Michael Bolton tunes coming out of your mouth.” Twisting, Black Arrow fired again, this time a hooked arrow.
“Oh please.” Spider-Man contorted his body into a nearly impossible position in order to avoid the arrow. What he neglected to take into account was the bolo around his leg. “I dodge bullets every day. Arrows are noth-”
The arrow passed neatly through a loop on one end of the bolo and hooked it. Spider-Man was cut off in mid-sentence as the arrow suddenly rocketed. By which a rocket at the back exploded and propelled the arrow with enough force to carry Spider-Man with it. The web-slinger flailed helplessly as he was dragged through the air off the bridge and over the water.
Hooking an arm through his bow to set it on his shoulder, Black Archer turned around as a thunderous explosion shook the bridge. A towering geyser of water shot up behind him.
“Either that was my explosive arrow, or Spider-Man is a lot heavier than he looks.”
“We should confirm the kill.” Part of Citizen V’s mask had been ripped away with the webbing. He approached the edge of the bridge, but Black Arrow stopped him.
“We just set off an explosion near a bridge. Whether or not Spider-Man’s dead, we showed what we can do and know what we need to work on. Hanging around here tempts more than we’re willing to handle.”
Reluctantly, Citizen V nodded. “Hopefully our girl on the West Coast will have good news when she checks in.”
# # # # # # # # # #
Donnie Gill had been certain he was going to die.
His room had been packed up, all his belongings boxed and waiting when he’d been cleared to leave. Except for the suit. Hammer had said he wouldn’t need that in his new life. And unfortunately, that had left Donnie in no position to demand words with Missy or Mark, neither of whom he’d seen since waking up.
Did they even know? Or would Hammer, would Zemo just tell them he’d died as a result of complications.
When Donnie walked out of the building, it was only with a bag of clothes and a bus ticket to his new home. Apparently the boxes would be there waiting for him. Would the killers be waiting there as well, or was Donnie never meant to board to the bus.
It turned out to be the latter.
Donnie’s back was to the wall, pressed hard against it by an opaque force-field. Facing him was Unuscione, and on the ground behind her were the remains of Donnie’s would-be killers. From the expression on Unuscione’s face, he could very well be next and Donnie couldn’t blame her. He had after all attacked her country, Genosha, along with the rest of the Thunderbolts.
“This is how the man you risked your life for tried to repay you,” Unuscione told him. “He uses, and then he discards. I’m here to offer you a chance to make him pay.”
“How?” Donnie asked. He was starting to smell. There was no catheter. “I don’t have my suit. My access will have already been yanked.”
“The suit is easy,” Unuscione said. “We have a replacement waiting for you. As for the access…where would be the fun in that?”
“Some of my friends in there…?”
“They won’t be hurt any more than it takes should they resist. All we want is Zemo.” Unuscione smiled at Donnie’s reaction. “Yes, we know. The right people believe the information Magneto leaked.”
Magneto knew, and the son of a Nazi was still alive? Donnie forced himself to take a breath. His ribs felt like they were going to break. They almost certainly would if he refused, though he sure as hell didn’t trust Unuscione’s assurance.
“I’m in.” And God help me.
# # # # # # # # # #
Long after the villains had left, Spider-Man crawled ashore far from the bridge. That explosion may have finished him…if it had come from the arrow and wasn’t simply triggered by it. The only thing that had been on that arrow was a scrap of paper. Spider-Man glanced at it for the first time, chuckling at the barely illegible markings.
“Heh, no wonder my Spider-Sense wasn’t triggered.” Spider-Man let the paper flutter into the water. “Good luck undercover, pal.”
# # # # # # # # # #
Next Issue: Citizen V and his Redeemers battle Baron Zemo and his Thunderbolts. With traitors on both sides, anything can happen. One thing is for sure, not everyone will make it out alive.
Songbird’s mind couldn’t help but flash back to that day. Blizzard had been seriously injured, suffering from wounds in both sides that had also registered signs of frostbite. The surgeons had been forced to cut away dead flesh, and when no longer numb from the cold Blizzard had been in extraordinary pain. Instead of given drugs for the pain, Blizzard had insisted on a medically-induced coma.
Several beds down, Boomerang was actually worse off. He hadn’t arrived with any serious wounds, only minimal brain functions and an uncontrollable shiver. The doctors’ best guess was that Boomerang had voluntarily withdrawn from the world. In a way, so too had Blizzard.
With a sigh, Songbird stood up. She was tired of waiting, tired of watching a guy that she’d likely start fighting with the second he woke up. The only reason she’d started was because Blizzard had refused drugs, and she’d hoped…but no. Most likely he only wanted a more permanent escape. And god, that screaming…
Outside the medical wing Songbird found Blacklash waiting in the hall. He was worse, never leaving his so-called friends but not having the balls to look at them. He scowled at Songbird, and she resisted the urge to slap him.
“Still no change?” he asked, not expecting an answer. “I am going to fucking kill that Mr. White.”
“Weren’t you supposed to do that in the first place?” Songbird started to turn and walk away, but thought better of it. “Why didn’t he do anything to you? For that matter, why didn’t he just kill you all?”
“Because he wanted a message sent.” Blacklash had said all this before. Not everything Mr. White had told him, for one that the man had referred to himself as the Death-Stalker. The way he’d said it, it was supposed to have meant something, but Blacklash had never heard of the name. “The deal Hammer had made with White went wrong somehow, and now Mr. White is going to come for him.”
True enough, though Blacklash neglected to mention that ‘Justin Hammer’ was really Baron Zemo. And that the deal had involved giving Mr. White a host body of some kind, one that was now breaking down. Baron Zemo certainly didn’t know what Blacklash knew, as he would have killed him to protect the secret. Blacklash was keeping the information to himself because he didn’t give a shit. He’d be out of it soon enough anyway.
“Let him come,” Songbird said. “I’ll kill him myself.”
At that, Blacklash smiled. “Why, because he beat on your boyfriend?”
“Because he betrayed us and nearly got me killed!”
“Exactly.” Blacklash stepped forward. “You don’t give a shit about Blizzard anymore. Tell me Mimi, have you been waiting all this time so that the first thing he hears is you breaking up with you?”
The slap hurt, but Songbird’s scream would have hurt more. “Don’t you dare call me that again!”
Blacklash couldn’t hold back the smile. “Right, you’d rather forget what you were. Well tough tittie bitch, because you’re just like me and Donnie and Fred, and even Melvin.”
“I’m done being a criminal like the rest of you.”
Blacklash laughed in her face. “Whatever you say, but that’s not what I’m saying. The fact is we ain’t anything special, just some thugs with better equipment than most. Donnie knows that better than anyone, wearing a dead man’s invention on his back. Any of us die, Hammer will just hand our gear to some other poor shmuck. Or haven’t you heard about the attempts to make a new Shrike?”
Songbird had heard. Supposedly two men had died in surgery, unable to survive the attempt to graft an anti-gravity generator to the spine. Simon Maddicks had only survived because of mutagenic conditioning by the Brand Corporation, though that hadn’t helped him against Bushwacker.
But Songbird shook her head. “No, I’m going to fall into some ‘us versus them’ mentality.”
“That’s not what I’m getting at. Hammer doesn’t give a shit about us. That attack on us had to be answered so I went along, and yeah, if I ever see Mr. White again he will die. But that’s going to be on my terms. I’m done risking my life for someone else.”
“Then why haven’t you already left?” Songbird asked.
“Because I also don’t abandon my friends. As soon as Fred and Donnie have recovered, I’m asking them to come with me out of Dodge. And while I’d prefer to never see your face again, I’m advising you to go your own way.”
“Your concern touches me,” said Songbird. “Maybe I’ll consider it.”
The double-meaning was clear to Blacklash, and he didn’t mind being told to fuck-off. He didn’t care if Songbird lived or died, and didn’t press the matter further. The uneasy teammates parted, hostility still thick between them. Once both were out of sight, a woman’s beautiful face appeared from inside the wall.
“Well, that was certainly interesting,” Moonstone said to herself.
# # # # # # # # # #
“I don’t think she would like us meeting together like this,” Melvin Potter said to the three other men in his circle. “She only ever wants to meet with us alone.”
“Well, that’s usually the first sign that we should do something,” said Erik Josten. “Anybody here who thinks that Karla Sofen actually cares about helping us, cares about anything other than helping herself, raise a hand.”
Melvin didn’t raise his hand. Neither did Samuel Smithers or Richard Rennselaer. The four men were seated in a rough circle of eight chairs, with one chair between each of them. Melvin had insisted on that, and it was kind of freaking out Erik and Richard how the man kept glancing to the empty chair on his left. Samuel either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Erik suspected the latter.
Erik nodded. “Right, well, it was something I’d been thinking about. We’ve all been through some, you know, some rough stuff these past few weeks. And the one person here that we’re really supposed to talk to about it, well, we can’t really trust her. Back when I was with the Marines, the only people we felt comfortable talking about this kind of stuff with were men from our unit.”
“I know guys in SHIELD did that too,” Richard said. His words came out as little more than a mumble, as his face was still swelled from bee stings. The others were able to understand him though. “Not me, though maybe if I did…”
“That only matters if they care about each other,” Samuel said. “None of you care about me. Fred Myers didn’t care when it had appeared Buskwacker killed me.”
“That’s because you were dead,” Melvin said with a cruel grin. “If we stopped to cry over every dead body the world would drown.”
“He’s right,” Erik said. “For the dead we can’t do anything. But alive we watch each other’s backs, and making sure our heads are on straight is a part of that. And yeah, it benefits us too, because we’re only as strong as our weakest link.”
There was a brief silence before Richard said, “I had a son. He was the reason I became a traitor.”
“That is not uncommon,” Samuel said with as little emotions as his earlier remarks. “Children are often used as leverage to make parents do things they shouldn’t.”
But Richard shook his head. “No, it wasn’t like that. My son…he’d suffered from something called Nuclear Psychosis, was so terrified of nuclear annihilation that he withdrew completely from the world. I thought that I could get him out of it by launching all of America’s nuclear stockpile into the ocean.”
Unable to stop himself, Melvin laughed. “Oh, that was such a stupid idea.”
Rather than get angry, Richard nodded his head. “Yeah, I didn’t stop to think what other nuclear countries would do once the missiles launched. Or how to stop the government from making more weapons, probably from the nukes that weren’t on missiles. Like I said, maybe if I’d spoken to other guys in SHIELD.”
“What has become of your son?” Samuel asked.
“He’s in a facility here just outside the city. Mr. Hammer arranged to have him moved there from West Virginia, and he’s paying the bills. So,” Richard leaned forward. “That’s why I’m here.”
“Is that that we are supposed to do?” Samuel asked. “Confess to our fears and motivations? If that is the case I will have nothing to contribute.”
“Not exactly,” Erik said. “We could just talk about things that have happened to us. For instance, I came close to loosing it last week. After going all out the way I did against Abomination I was filled with an urge to…to kill the reporters and police officers outside.”
“That was just your adrenaline up,” said Richard. “You’d just almost killed a man, the police were pointing their guns at you-”
“I didn’t deserve that!” Erik grew another foot in height with the outburst. “I’m a hero now! They had no right treating me like a criminal!”
Everybody’s reaction was different. Richard immediately leaned back, his chair scrapping on the floor. Melvin stood up, his fists clenched as though he was eager for a brawl. Samuel didn’t move at all, merely staring calmly at Erik. As though he suddenly realized what he was doing, Erik forced a deep breath and shrank back to normal size.
“I’m sorry…I…I just can’t escape it. I try to make up for things, to be a hero, and all anyone sees is the scary Goliath who once beat Hercules into a coma. It’s like whatever I do, I’ll only ever be remembered as a criminal.”
“At least people look at you with fear.” That was the last thing any of the three expected Melvin Potter to say. Even Samuel couldn’t help but feel uneasy around the man. “After I got help, tried to just run my costume shop, it seemed like wiseguys would stop by every month to strongarm me, get me to do a job or dress an imposter super-hero. It never really came of anything, but only because Daredevil watched out for me. He was the one they feared, but me, I was nothing to them!”
At that, Samuel frowned. “But then why bother you?”
Melvin looked at him, not understanding it. Richard thought he got it though.
“Yeah, why? I mean, there are other tailors, the ones who make their custom suits for instance. And if they figured you for a pushover, why force you to dress up and do their dirty work?”
“Because I was expendable,” said Melvin. “Somebody who couldn’t be easily traced to them, who wouldn’t be missed if killed, and just written off as a nutjob.”
But Samuel shook his head. “No, I don’t think that’s it. Those men may have been trying to prove something to themselves. It would impress their men, pushing around a dangerous man that everybody feared.”
“Especially when they knew there was no danger in it,” said Betsy, Melvin’s dead wife who he saw in the seat next to him. “That’s the way of wiseguys. They only push against those they know won’t fight back.”
Melvin lowered his head in his hands. “I don’t know,” he muttered to himself. “I just don’t know.”
“It looks like neither of us can escape our past,” Erik said. “I can call myself Atlas or Goliath or Powerman or whatever I want, people will see what they want to see.”
“They see what they remember most,” said Samuel. “Whatever is most clear in their minds. For instance, what do you think when you see me?”
“The plant guy who rose from the dead and killed Bushwacker,” Richard said. Erik nodded in agreement.
“But that is a minor thing to me. I see it as though through a mist, as I do most that is not of the Green. What I do remember though….are the simuloids. Made of plants, I would create them to mimic others…or myself. Sometimes I would go so far as to implant my memories in them, grant them free will.” He raised an arm, more plant than flesh, and examined it with his eyes. “Could I be one? Am I really a plant who only things he’s a man?”
Lowering his arm, Taproot considered Erik and Melvin. “You see, there is no point in my past, in my memories. What I have now, what I will have in the future, that is what matters. Because that is all I have.”
And the green, Taproot did not say.
The door was thrown open, and Karla Sofen walked into the room. She did not look happy to see the four men talking to each other.
“What is going on here? Overrider, you’re the only one I’m scheduled to see today.”
The four men stood up. Melvin saw his wife still seated, watching Karla with considering eyes.
“We each had to speak with you,” Erik said. “You weren’t here, so we waited. But if you have time later Karla I’d like to talk about-”
“You shouldn’t be discussing your problems with each other. Especially not without me to moderate the conversation and prevent you boys from doing further damage. Do any of you really expect the others not to use any confessions against you?”
“She’s right,” only Melvin heard his wife say. “You may have to kill these men in their sleep. Or I could.” Gladiator tried not to think of what happened to Blackout when his back was turned.
“We didn’t think there was any-”
“Exactly Goliath, you didn’t think.” Karla stepped aside from the open door. “I’ll check my schedule and see if something can be arranged in the next few days. For now I need to speak with Overrider alone.”
After the other three men had left, Moonstone closed the door and faced her remaining patient. “Overrider, there’s something I’ve been meaning to speak with you about since the day you almost died. It concerns your unusually close connection with TESS-1.”
# # # # # # # # # #
"Where is he?"
The suit was big and bulky, with upgrades that included advanced sensors in the helmet. Abe Jenkins was scanning the Manhattan skyline but couldn't see anything. "Not here. Check if Fixer sees anything on the other side."
Speed Demon disappeared in a blur. Less than a minute later he was back alongside the armored Beetle. "Nothing there either. He's not coming."
Beetle didn't say anything, considering. The sun had been down for over three minutes now. "All right. Go send a message and leave the second-"
A hand reached up from over the side and grabbed Speed Demon's leg. “Here, I’ll help. Candygram!” Spider-Man leaped into the air with his passenger, and casually flicked his wrist. As Speed Demon was flying through the air, a large net of webbing was forming between the distant towers he would have passed through. “Darn, I just hate when those get lost in transit.”
Spider-Man moved fast, hopping onto the tower platform with Beetle. He rushed forward, a fist poised to smash. "That was a friend and his daughter you threatened!"
But the computer system in Beetle's suit allowed him to react just as fast. He raised an arm to block Spider-Man's punch, the long fingers of his glove wrapping around the Web-Slinger's wrist and sticking tight. “You thought I could be hit that easy?” Beetle's wings flapped rapidly, building the already high winds atop the bridge tower. Confident that he could, Beetle swung his arm to throw Spider-Man from the tower. “You think I’m the same loser? Do you?
His feet could have stuck fast to the platform, but Spider-Man allowed himself to be thrown. Flipping through the air with the wind, he fired web-line after web-line. “Yeah.” He swung around the tower, building his momentum until smashing at terrific speeds against the Beetle's back. “I kind of do.” As rapidly as they flapped, Spider-Man grabbed the Beetle's thing wings with little effort and crushed them in his hands.
"Aaah!" Beetled had linked the cybernetics of his suit to his nervous system. He felt what happened to the wings. He tried to swing about on the platform, to shake his opponent off. But Spider-Man's feet were stuck fast to Beetle's back, and his fists were smashing against the helmet with terrific force.
"My....friend's....daughter!"
"Good to know." Electricity surged out from Beetle's suit, his ‘Beetle Bite’. Shocked, Spider-Man was at last knocked from his dazed foe. "If by some miracle we don't kill you tonight, Spider-Man's got friends with daughters."
Beetle turned just in time to get a face full of webbing. “A big dummy like you will forget after a few blows to the skull.” Blinded, he couldn't see Spider-Man rush at him. Both went hurtling from the bridge tower. A beetle with no wings and a spider with a web-line but no willingness to lend a hand.
Response had been rapid since the appearance of a villain in a massive spider-web on the Brooklyn Bridge. In just minutes cars had been cleared from the streets, though that meant clogged traffic and an unlikelihood of authorities arriving anytime soon. Still, it meant nobody got hurt when Beetle slammed against the hard pavement. If there had been anything in his suit still working, it wasn't now.
“Darn it. I had such a good joke if Beetle had hit a windshield.”
Bouncing up on his makeshift bungie-cord, Spider-Man was over the tower when he saw a large, feminine shape plummeting at him from even higher. “And another. A girl, but I don’t see a bow.” Letting go of his web-line at the apex, Spider-Man twisted so that Man-Killer only half-tackled him. One arm around his waist, Spider-Man grabbed the wrist of Man-Killer's other arm and slugged her hard across the face. “Where’s the one with the bow?” She only lost a tooth. It was the crash against the pavement that separated the two.
Most of the impact had been taken on Man-Killer's shoulder, a dislocated mess that she painfully snapped back into place. "Gaahh!" Stepping forward on unsteady feet, she gave Spider-Man a gap-toothed grin. "You’re hurt, and I'm stronger."
Spider-Man had a lot more experience falling. He'd rolled with the fall and now faced Man-Killer on all fours. "So was Titania."
# # # # # # # # # #
The apartment was small, but neat and tidy. Marsha Rosenberg liked it, having everything in its place. When she hadn’t been living out of a suitcase, Marsha had been too busy using her powers for someone’s definition of ‘greater good.’ But that was all done with, and Marsha was glad to make up a home right.
Finally, after years wasted as the super-villain Volcana, she was back to living a normal life.
The doorbell rang. “I’m coming,” Marsha called out as she walked to answer it. Several of her new neighbors had already stopped by to introduce themselves. She threw open the door.
The gunshot took Marsha in the center of the forehead. Stumbling backward, she had attempted in the last split-second of life to transform, to become molten lava and therefore survive. Lava did leak out of the head wound instead of blood, but Marsha wasn’t transforming. With a gurgle, she fell backwards, dead.
The figure dressed in white stepped into the room, neglecting to close the door. Holstering his still smoking shotgun behind his back, the Scourge knelt down over the body and felt for a pulse. No heartbeat, but he noted a thin wisp of smoke was still rising out of the bubbling hole in Volcana’s head. Had it been an actual shotgun blast though, her head would have been gone.
It had been the hellfire that killed her, Scourge decided. She hadn’t been able to transform, her brain already burned by her sins. A remarkable weapon, the shotgun. Scourge couldn’t wait to use it on other villains that refused to die.
All in the service of Baron Zemo.
# # # # # # # # # #
Rhythm increased. Eyelids fluttered. A gasp escaped. Donnie Gill bolted upright in his bed, suddenly struggling to breath through all the tubes. Everything breath hurt, and unconsciously his hands moved for his sides. That was when he noticed the restraints.
“I assure you that’s only as a precaution. You were thrashing about quite a bit when Quantum returned you here.”
Donnie’s eyes shifted, taking in the image of Justin Hammer sitting next to his bed. The elderly man took a hand out of his pocket and placed it over Donnie’s bound wrist. Those eyes, so much younger than they should have been, seemed to drill into the Blizzard’s soul.
“Guh…the others?” he asked weakly.
“Boomerang has the bed next to you. I regret to say he isn’t doing nearly so well as yourself. But miraculously, Blacklash appeared to emerge unscathed. He claims that Mr. White wanted to send me a message.”
Justin Hammer leaned forward as he spoke, those eyes still fixed on Donnie. “When Quantum brought you in, you were conscious. Oh, in terrible pain, but still awake. That leads me to wonder if perhaps you overheard any of the exchange.”
“How…how long?”
“Ten days.”
Donnie closed his eyes. “Surprised he hasn’t come already.” His eyes reopened. “That was what Mr. Whtie said. That he was coming for all of us.”
“No one specifically?” The hand on Donnie’s wrist gripped tight. “He didn’t mention any names.”
Only yours, the Blizzard didn’t say. He knew that Baron Zemo was interrogating him and if it wasn’t for the catheter Blizzard would have pissed himself. “If he did I didn’t hear. Only that he was coming here. Something about…getting what he was owed.”
“I see.” The wrinkled old hand of Justin Hammer relaxed. “Well, just let him try. And you can take comfort in the fact that you won’t be here for that unpleasant business.”
Oh god. Blizzard knew he was going to die. His eyes darted around, looking for some kind of help. But there wasn’t any, never would have been any. Everybody in the building was in Hammers, was in Zemo’s, pocket.
“That’s right, my boy. I’m letting you go, with full payment and a new identity, as promised. And for Boomerang as well, should he ever recover. You both did me a great service, and your obligation to me is now at an end.”
Maybe there was some truth to that, Donnie figured. He wouldn’t be killed until he was out of the building. He hoped Fred would be spared though. Him and… “Blacklash?” Donnie had to ask.
“Oh,” Justin Hammer gave a warm but stern smile. “He may follow soon, but for now he’ll be remaining in my employ. Loyal men are so hard to find, and I’d hate to lose Blacklash just when I may need him the most.”
# # # # # # # # # #
The gleaming sword of Citizen V was pointed in the direction of a struggling Speed Demon. "Get him down," Citizen V told the Fixer. He then stepped off the tower onto the hovering V-Wing, alongside the waiting Black Archer. "You can then join us and Man-Killer."
Black Archer had an arrow nocked and ready. Like his weapons, Black Arrow's mask and entire costume were the same color as his name. "Provided Man-Killer hasn't, well, killed him yet." The V-Wing was nearly at ground level when a flying female shape rapidly approached. Black Arrow and Citizen V dived out of the way, and Man-Killer bounced three times off the hard asphalt. "Or not."
"More of you, and two I don't recognize?" Spider-Man gave a tremendous leap forward at the two villains. "Sheesh, what kind of Spidey Revenge Squad is this?"
"The kind that isn't about you," Black Arrow declared as he let the arrow fly. Before releasing, he'd pressed a switch on the large blunt point.
The loud screech of his Spider-Sense told Spider-Man he didn't want to be anywhere near that arrow. However, flipping out of its path didn't help much as the arrow still exploded. He suffered minor damage, but the force drove Spider-Man to the pavement, and into the path of an attacking Citizen V.
"Oh this is just too embarrassing." Spider-Man twists out of the way of Citizen V's sword just in time. "I am not getting cut up by some yahoo in a silver Wolverine-”
The buzz of his Spider-Sense had been dismissed by Spider-Man, as he’d assumed Citizen V’s sharp sword was the cause. That turned out to be a mistake, as a laser beam fired from the Fixer’s Tech-Pack sliced across Spider-Man’s leg. Pained, Spider-Man was barely able to roll away from Citzen V’s slash. The flat of the blade caught him in the side of the head, and Spider-Man fell onto his hand and flipped away.
“I am no rank amateur that you can distract with a few words,” Citizen V said. “My skill will overwhelm your pitiful powers and mmmffmm!”
Spider-Man had fired a web-line at Citizen V’s face, which the swordsman had managed to swipe away while still giving his speech. However, Spider-Man had fired two web-lines in quick succession, and the second pasted over Citizen V’s mouth. “I’m sorry, were you giving an evil villain speech? Post it on YouTube and I’ll watch later.”
Fixer fired a rapid succession of laser beams from his Tech-Pack. Spider-Man leaped over them and Fixer’s head. “See, I’m down with modern pop-culture. What about you, Ghostbuster?” Two web-lines caught either side of the Tech-Pack. “That thing a PC or Mac?” Pulling up on his web-lines in mid-air, Spider-Man was actually pulling himself down. He hit just as Fixer was looking up, making the blow a double foot to the face. “Oh, definitely PC.”
Somehow, the arrow hadn’t triggered Spider-Man’s sense. It slammed into his chest at the same instant contact was made with Fixer. A sticky substance ran over Spider-Man’s costume as he was thrown toward the pavement. At the last second Spider-Man flipped and landed on his feet.
“Funny joke,” Black Archer said as he fired another arrow. “Provides a segue to call me Un-PC.” The arrow split into three in mid-flight, with two caught by Spider-Man and the third knocked away by a foot. “But it’s really a ‘damned if I do, damned if I don’t’ situation.” After firing the arrow, Black Archer threw a bola, which wrapped around Spider-Man’s final foot. “Because really, who’s going to call himself African-American Archer?”
“Maybe an actual African-American?” Spider-Man said. Tossing the two arrows away, he leaped at Black Archer. “Which, I’m very sorry if you are, but that voice just sounds very very white to me.”
Ducking to the side, Black Arrow managed to avoid Spider-Man’s grasp. “You should know. Those might as well be Michael Bolton tunes coming out of your mouth.” Twisting, Black Arrow fired again, this time a hooked arrow.
“Oh please.” Spider-Man contorted his body into a nearly impossible position in order to avoid the arrow. What he neglected to take into account was the bolo around his leg. “I dodge bullets every day. Arrows are noth-”
The arrow passed neatly through a loop on one end of the bolo and hooked it. Spider-Man was cut off in mid-sentence as the arrow suddenly rocketed. By which a rocket at the back exploded and propelled the arrow with enough force to carry Spider-Man with it. The web-slinger flailed helplessly as he was dragged through the air off the bridge and over the water.
Hooking an arm through his bow to set it on his shoulder, Black Archer turned around as a thunderous explosion shook the bridge. A towering geyser of water shot up behind him.
“Either that was my explosive arrow, or Spider-Man is a lot heavier than he looks.”
“We should confirm the kill.” Part of Citizen V’s mask had been ripped away with the webbing. He approached the edge of the bridge, but Black Arrow stopped him.
“We just set off an explosion near a bridge. Whether or not Spider-Man’s dead, we showed what we can do and know what we need to work on. Hanging around here tempts more than we’re willing to handle.”
Reluctantly, Citizen V nodded. “Hopefully our girl on the West Coast will have good news when she checks in.”
# # # # # # # # # #
Donnie Gill had been certain he was going to die.
His room had been packed up, all his belongings boxed and waiting when he’d been cleared to leave. Except for the suit. Hammer had said he wouldn’t need that in his new life. And unfortunately, that had left Donnie in no position to demand words with Missy or Mark, neither of whom he’d seen since waking up.
Did they even know? Or would Hammer, would Zemo just tell them he’d died as a result of complications.
When Donnie walked out of the building, it was only with a bag of clothes and a bus ticket to his new home. Apparently the boxes would be there waiting for him. Would the killers be waiting there as well, or was Donnie never meant to board to the bus.
It turned out to be the latter.
Donnie’s back was to the wall, pressed hard against it by an opaque force-field. Facing him was Unuscione, and on the ground behind her were the remains of Donnie’s would-be killers. From the expression on Unuscione’s face, he could very well be next and Donnie couldn’t blame her. He had after all attacked her country, Genosha, along with the rest of the Thunderbolts.
“This is how the man you risked your life for tried to repay you,” Unuscione told him. “He uses, and then he discards. I’m here to offer you a chance to make him pay.”
“How?” Donnie asked. He was starting to smell. There was no catheter. “I don’t have my suit. My access will have already been yanked.”
“The suit is easy,” Unuscione said. “We have a replacement waiting for you. As for the access…where would be the fun in that?”
“Some of my friends in there…?”
“They won’t be hurt any more than it takes should they resist. All we want is Zemo.” Unuscione smiled at Donnie’s reaction. “Yes, we know. The right people believe the information Magneto leaked.”
Magneto knew, and the son of a Nazi was still alive? Donnie forced himself to take a breath. His ribs felt like they were going to break. They almost certainly would if he refused, though he sure as hell didn’t trust Unuscione’s assurance.
“I’m in.” And God help me.
# # # # # # # # # #
Long after the villains had left, Spider-Man crawled ashore far from the bridge. That explosion may have finished him…if it had come from the arrow and wasn’t simply triggered by it. The only thing that had been on that arrow was a scrap of paper. Spider-Man glanced at it for the first time, chuckling at the barely illegible markings.
“Heh, no wonder my Spider-Sense wasn’t triggered.” Spider-Man let the paper flutter into the water. “Good luck undercover, pal.”
# # # # # # # # # #
Next Issue: Citizen V and his Redeemers battle Baron Zemo and his Thunderbolts. With traitors on both sides, anything can happen. One thing is for sure, not everyone will make it out alive.