Considering I came to him for combat training, so far Richard Dragon, or "Sensei" as I'm supposed to call him, has taught me very little combat. So far it's been a lot of mdeitation, a lot of trying to "center" myself, and a lot of nothing, if I'm being honest.

"You're not relaxed," he says beside me as the two of us sit quietly in the dojo. It's become like a secon home to me in the past week, and I've been spending most of my Christmas vacation here, much to the chagrin of Peter. But if I'm going to do this, I'm going to do it right, even if it is driving me crazy up to this point. "If you are not relaxed, you will not do what you need to in order to succeed."

I almost feel the frustration rise to my throat like a bitter pill.I know he knows what he's doing, but that doesn't lessen my annoyance with all his talk of being centered and calm.

"Sorry, Master Yoda," I respond sarcastically. "I'll go back to lifting rocks."

Speaking to his own centered and in control persona, he never seems to get annoyed at my jabs. Maybe he knows I'm not trying to be all that annoying, but I didn't come here just to sit around.

"You know I'e seen Star Wars, right?" he shakes his head. "I may be a master of martial arts, but I don't live in a cave. Luke leaving Yoda's training because he's annoyed is specifically shown to be a mistake. Just saying."

My face scrunches up under the mask, "Don't throw nerd knowledge back
in my face. That's my thing! Don't steal my thing!"

He chuckles softly. When he does, the greying-red beard that hugs his face contorts, making him look like a happy dragon himself. He's been a decent mentor so far, I have to admit, even if he's being far more secretive about his motives than I would like.

"You joke, but your emotions are what get you in trouble," he harps on his favorite criticism of me.

"I haven't heard that one before."

"Yet you continue to let them control you," he waves his hand, as if presenting me with my failures. "If that does not change, our time here will have been for nothing, and you will not be ready for the challenges that are to come."

"I don't understand why you harp on the emotions stuff," I finally say out of frustration. I haven't really pushed back against him, not in any significant kind of way. I've been trying to keep my cool, to show him that I can do what he says I can't. But I can't hold back any more, and it comes flooding out in a torrent of words that only a teenage girl can summon up. "My emotions and drive are what have kept me alive. They've pushed me forward and allowed me to get out of situations I've never would have gotten out of otherwise. Now you come saying that's my biggest problem? Why?"

Another smile creeps across his face, "Finally."

"What do you mean 'finally'?"

"I've been waiting for you to ask me why I do anything. To be curious. To want to learn," he explains. "I learned a long time ago that a student who sits and merely listens will never get what they need to get. Even you with your snark would never have succeeded with me until you were willing to ask questions. So now we can truly begin."

A smile flickers at the corner of my mouth. But I don't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that, "So are you gonna answer my question, or no?"

"You're not wrong that your raw will has protected you up until now," he concedes. "But that has also gotten you in trouble. You tend to throw punches when you don't need to. Normal people can't take a beating from you, nor should they need one. You have the power to stop them without violence. That will win you the love of the people you're currently missing."

I consider what he's saying, and realize it doesn't sound wholly different than what Tombstone had told me as well. That me taking down guys with my fists is going to create more problems than they will solve. It's something I've been considering, but to hear it from someone like the man training me makes it an extra poignant point.

"And when you come up against someone who does require you to fight them head on, while your grit may help you survive when you're back is to the wall, you should never be there in the first place," he becomes serious at this sentence, driving home how important he thinks it is. "You go head first into these fights with no preparation and a head full of ego and emotion. You're lucky that you have a second gear to go to when you need it, but you tend to need it too much. If you went in with a level head and an ability to fight with skill, you could save that for very few emergency situations. That's where you should be when we're done, and that's only going to happen when you get your emotions under control. Until then, no matter how much I tell you about martial arts, every fight you have will be a fight for your life."

It all makes so much sense. Even I don't have a snarky reply or a comment for that. He's right. That's about all I can say about it.

"Yes, Sensei," I nod. "I'll try to do better."

"Good," he motions for me to sit back down. "Let's meditate some more, in that case."

"You really enjoy testing me, don't you?" I shoot back at him.

"I do," he smiles. "I really do."

The winter wind whips through the streets of New York around me as I pace on the sidewalk outside the Osbron compound. Conflicting feelings rush through me as I consider all the ways this night can go. Will MJ and Harry be annoyed that I actually showed up? Will they be cool with me being here? Maybe even happy? I don't know. All I know is that I'm more nervous to see the people that, up until a few weeks ago, I consider my best friends than I am to ever go up against a super villain.

That's probably a bad thing, right?

Peter eyes me suspiciously as he leans on a pole nearby, "You're sure you're okay with this? We don't have to go in."

"Of course we have to go in," I grumble. "It's my homework."

Sensei insisted that I come tonight. After a talk, he decided that it would be a prime place for me to practice emotional control and on the spot meditative techniques. I didn't fight that, as it, unfortunately, does make a lot of sense. If I can't keep my head when talking to normal people, I'm never going to do it in the heat of battle.

"I don't think you should be thinking about a party with your friends that way," he says helpfully.

"No, I shouldn't," I agree. "But right now I do."

"Well, should we go in?" he asks.

"Sure," I shrug. "No turning back now."

The two of us walk into the grand foyer of the Osborn Manor, something that never fails to take my breath away. A grand set of marble stair cases wrap around in front of us, representing the strands of DNA, just like the design inspiration for Oscorp Tower. The gleaming white of the entrance way shocks the sytem, and the size of the house has always been too big for the family, even when Harry's mom was still alive. But Norman doesn't do anything half way.

People fall into hushed whispers as I walk by them, leading me to believe no one thought I was going to show up.

"Oh man, she's here!" Flash Thompsons calls out as if he's a pro wrestling announcer. "Things are about the heat up!"

"Drama!" Liz Allen exclaims, wrapped around his arm.

I take some deep breaths, trying to gain my center like Dragon has been teaching me to do. Normally I'd probably have yelled something back at those two. So, hey, progress!

I spot Glory and Betty standing by the big fire pit outside, and decide that's probably where I should start with my apology tour. The two of them were innocents caught in MJ and my war of words. No reason I shouldn't try and mend that fence before dealing with MJ.

"Hey," I sidle up to the two of them, brushing my hair back, pinning it behind my ear. "How's it going."

"Whoa," Betty gasps, yet still talks in her normal, monotone voice filled with an unimpressed tenor. "I did not think you were gonna show."

"Yea, girl," Glory offers me a drink, but I wave it away, "you guys
gonna have it out again?"

"I hope not," I wince at her. "Sorry for that. Didn't mean to put you guys in the middle like that."

"I mean, you weren't totally wrong," Betty admits. "Neither was she, to be fair. But she was being a diva."

"She's been a lot better since then, if I'm being honest," Glory adds. "So maybe you got through to her a bit."

I look surprised, "You guys have been practicing without me?"

"Kinda," Betty rolls her eyes. "We had two sessions."

"Yea, I dunno if you know," Glory chuckles, "but it's really hard to play rock music without a drummer."

I laugh along with the two of them. I know it's only been like a week since I stormed out of the last show, but it still feels longer. Maybe Pete is right. This is going to be good for me.

"Well, you came," Harry's voice almost makes me physically flinch. I turn to find him eyeing me suspiciously. I don't blame him. I didn't even tell him what I was feeling to his face like I did with MJ. Instead, he heard it all second hand. That makes it worse. That always makes it worse. "I'm glad your here. Hope it's not too over the top for you."

The dig hits hard, and I hear Betty and Glory shuffle away from the two of us. A spike of anger rises in my throat. Who is he to throw that back in my face? He's the one that's been acting like a spoiled sweet sixteen chick. He's the one that's been bragging about his daddy's money and robots who want to kill me. I just told his girlfriend how it is. How is he the one that gets to throw things back in my face?

Richard Dragon's words about control and balance float through my head, interrupting that train of thought. I take a deep breath, and look back up at Harry, who seems to be waiting for the blow up.

"Listen, Harry, it was wrong of me to say those things the way I did," I begin to apologize. "If I had a problem with how you or MJ were acting, I should have come to the two of you as a friend. We've known each other forever. There's no reason I should have kept it bottled up inside until it exploded out of me."

"Yea, well, maybe we were being a little-"

Something catches his attention behind me, and I turn to see something going on at Times Square. More of the party goers begin to flock to the TV as their phones begin to alert them of the disturbance at the famous New Years gathering space. I stand back from the crowd, but get a good vantage point. I can't hear what the panicked reporters and emcees are saying on the broadcast, but I can see the events unfold.

A weird, bubble-like force field envelops the area, coming straight out of the streetlights in Times Square. That means whoever is doing this had a plan long in the making. It's not easy to do that kind of thing in a tourist area, at least not quickly.

Suddenly, the screen turns to fuzz, and replacing the scene is a man with fiery red hair and a gleaming white suit. He twirls a cane around in his hand, smiling broadly as he does it. He tosses it into the air before snatching it and taking a bow as if waiting for applause.

"Ladies and gentlemen of New York," he starts, sounding almost like a carnival barker trying to entice the viewers into playing a game, "happy new year! Well, not yet, I guess. But I'm here to make the last few hours of the year some you will never forget. As you can see, I've encased Times Square and everyone in it in a little bubble of my own design. Neat, huh?"

He raises his eyebrows to the camera, "Nothing can get in or out...including air! By my calculations, everyone inside that bubble has until the stroke of midnight for it to come down before suffocation becomes a real problem, and this New Year becomes a tragic one."

Walking around, he continues, "But how can we save the people, you may ask? Simple. You can't. My game is only made for one. I have covered New York in challenges for the amazing Spider-Woman to complete. If she does so in time, everyone lives. If she fails? Well then, she has even more blood on her hands."

A sinister, chesire grin appears on the screen as he stares into the camera, "Time is running out, Spider-Woman. You have three hours. Better get to the Empire State Building so our little game can begin."

He backs up and opens his arms, presenting himself to the camera, "Ladies and gentlemen of New York! My name is Arcade, and I will be your host for tonight! Allow me to welcome you to Murderworld: New York!"

The feed cuts back to a live shot of Times Square as I begin to head out. Before I can, MJ gets in my way, "Gwen, you can't leave now. It's clearly not safe. Plus I thought we could talk."

"MJ, I would love to talk, but I need to go," I try and protest, realizing I have absolutely no good excuse to get away. "I...my dad will probably want me to be home with all this going on."

"Going out there is dangerous, Gwen," she looks at me like I'm crazy. "Are you so afraid to be stuck somewhere with me that you'd risk you life?"

"What? No," I recoil and shake my head. "I just...you wouldn't understand."

"Yea, clearly there's a lot I don't understand about you anymore," she rolls her eyes and bumps past me in order to join the rest of the party.

"Ouch," Peter sighs. "There's no good way that could have ended."

"Can you get somewhere to help me out? There's no way this is going to be easy tonight," I plead with him.

"Yea, I'll figure something out. Now go. Those people are counting on you."

I kiss him on the cheek, then move as fast as I can towards the middle of Manhattan.

It doesn't take me long to get to the Empire State Building. Swinging is by far the most efficient way of traversing New York. I need to make sure no one notices that, or I'll end up with Tony Stark ripping off my webshooters and selling them to every idiot stock broker who things they're important enough to need the shortcut. Actually, you know what, maybe I should let that happen. It would probably mean a whole lot less idiot stock brokers running around New York, and honestly who wouldn't want that?

When I get to the New York landmark, I see a bunch of flying light drones forming an arrow to the very top of the building. I sigh. Of course he wants me to go all the way to the top. He's a weirdo criminal gameshow host. The only way this was going to happen is if he gets the best shot he can of me atop the most famous building in the city. Still, that doesn't make me any more annoyed.

Yet again, Richard Dragon's warnings of becoming imbalanced echo through my brain, and I take a few deep breaths as I start my climb to the top of the spire.

Once I get there, the drones swirl around me, before forming into a new shape a few yards in front of me. Instead of the arrow, they now look like a crude representation of Arcade's face, all of them lit up in that bright white, just like the suit he was wearing in the video earlier.

"Well done, Spider-Woman! Well done!" the drone drawing grins and mimics its master's movements. Whoever this guy is he has some serious engineering skills. To get drones to act like this, in perfect synchronization usually takes a huge team of techs, and they even end up screwing it up. He's good. He's really good. "Now smile, you're being broadcast all across the world on the internet. I wanted everyone to see my Murderworld challenge, and I wanted everyone to see you fail. Once we're done here, I'll test the rest of the so-called heroes on earth, to see who's good enough to survive Murderworld!"

I roll my eyes under my mask, "Listen, PITA Barnum. I have people to save. Can we get on with this so I can put you behind bars?"

This guy wants me to fail, so he's going to do his best to keep me talking. He probably thinks he can sucker me into some dumb mistake that will end up with a bunch of dead partiers.

Think again, a-hole. This is the kinda new and semi-improving Gwen Stacy.

"Very well, Spider-Woman,' the weird, drone thing smiles without any teeth. "Your first challenge is a simple race. Get through my obstacle course alive, and we can move onto the next one. Sounds awfully simple now, doesn't it? Shall we begin."

"Wait, you said a race? Like against the clock?" I ask, confused. There's clearly no other racers here, so I can't be running against someone, right?

"Why you're racing away from them, of course," Arcade responds just as the beep goes off inside my comm systems.

"Goblin patrol incoming," WEB warns me.

Of course. How did I not see this one coming? He told the freaking world where I'd be. Of course some Goblins would have been dispatched to the location. It's the most obvious thing to happen, and I didn't even consider it.

"Better get moving, Spider-Woman!" Arcade yells with glee as his face turns back into an arrow pointing down towards the street.

Not wasting any time, I leap, following the direction. As I do, I can see the Goblins streaking up to meet me. I streamline my arms and legs in order to give the smallest possible target to them. Just in time, too. My Spider Sense warns me as they let go with a volley of the bladed projectiles that gave me such an issue on Christmas night. Thankfully, the first volley misses thanks to my quick thinking. They won't miss again though. But I'm not low enough to swing out of the way and start putting some distance between them and I.

The next round of projectiles come my way, and I'm forced to do some midair acrobatics in order to get out of the way of them. All the while, they keep getting closer. I'm gonna have to do some more fancy moves if I'm going to get past them.

"How is Spider-Woman going to escape this one, viewers?" Arcade cackles. Great. He's commentating.

I decide to give them some New Years confetti.

Letting go with my webshooters, I fire a few streams of webbing towards the heads of the goblins at the center of the formation coming my way. That causes them to open a hole for me to pass through. I do just that, and in the process get to the level of the city where I can swing away easily.

"Ha! See ya, boys!" I laugh as I swing away.

My Spider Sense tells me that maybe it's too early to celebrate.

As I come through my swing, I see that the drones are not floating in front of me in formations of four. Suddenly, force fields begin forming between them, creating obstacles I need to dodge.

"Oh right. The obstacle course."

It takes all my concentration and my reflexes to get me through the barriers. As I do, the ones behind me zoom past me and form new ones further down the street. Who knows how long this is going to end up being. Trying to gain altitude doesn't help, as the barriers move to box me in. Arcade thought of everything, and if I'm gonna get out of this and save those people, I'm gonna have to play his game.

"Uh, so are you okay?" Peter's voice comes over the comms.

"Yea!" I responds. "I'm just glad you always make me play video games."

"What's this one like?" he asks, almost with amusement.

"Uhhh...you know that level in Battletoads with the speeder bike?" I respond, shooting through a gap. "It's like that."

"Oh god," he responds, clearly aghast.

"Yea. Right?" I say through gritted teeth. "So I'll check in after I'm done here."

"Copy, babe."

When he hangs up, I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I turn my head slightly to find the Goblins catching up to me yet again. The momentary glance has repercussions, though. Turning back to where I'm going, I find two of the barriers closing in front of me. I zip a line between them, and yank myself through quickly. Behind the now closed passage, two of the Goblins slam into the barriers at full speed, causing a huge explosion. Their two comrades go around the other way, but at least the numbers have thinned a bit.

"Oh! Look at that, good viewers!" Arcade thrills at the sight. I can't even imagine how many hits this nutball is getting right now. "Spider-Woman escapes by the skin of her teeth and takes two of her foes down with her. That's going to be on Sportscenter!"

God this guy is unbearable.

Luckily I'm starting to get the hang of this course. A couple more blocks, and I can see flashing red barriers in the distance. Hopefully, that means I'm almost at the end. That's good for me. What's also good for me is, I now know that the barriers can cause the Goblins some irreparable harm. I purposefully swing by one, missing it by milometers. As the obstacle disappears in order to form another one down the street, I loop back and behind the following Goblins. Quickly, I fire weblines to the rudders of their gliders and yank them both towards a pair of obstacles. They hit them with the same kind of force, taking them out of the equation.

"And look at that! She's take the other two out as well!" Arcade celebrates, though I figure he's just playing a part. He's probably really disappointed.

Good.

A few more blocks, and I pass through the red barriers, and fireworks explode as I do, celebrating my "victory".

"Congratulations, Spider-Woman!" Arcade mocks. "But the games are just beginning. There are some people waiting for you in Central Park, and you're not going to want to let them down."

"You want to play, Arcade?" I growl. "Then let's play."

New Atlantis, Atlantis

There was a broad smile across Sue Storm’s face. The man she loved with her whole was about to propose. At least, she presumed as much – why else would Reed Richards be on one knee with ring box in hand? There was a bashful grin on his face, prouder than any she had ever seen on it before, as he tried to summon up the strength to speak the words he’d clearly rehearsed a thousand times, if not more. The quiet corner of Central Park they had carved out for themselves was so quiet that even at a near-whisper Reed’s voice was still audible.

“Susan Victoria Richards, over the past four years, we have shared more adventures than I can remember and in that time you have proved to be the best friend – and though Ben and Johnny certainly wouldn’t thank me for this – the best teammate that I could have ever asked f-”

A sudden blast shook the park. In the distance a blinding light shone. Sue looked towards it and let out a gasp as its light came charging towards them. She looked towards her fiance, who was scrambling around for the ring box he had dropped the ground, and let out a piercing scream as Reed’s face was torn apart by the blast as if his skin were made of ash. She was still screaming in her dream when her eyes awoke.

She was no longer in Central Park and Reed Richards was nowhere to be seen. In his place was a figure that was as discomforting as the thought of Reed was comforting. It took only one glance at the man’s purple and grey armour to identify him. For whatever reason, however she had ended up there, Orm Marius was standing guard over Sue Storm’s hospital room. He did not look at all happy to have been relegated to such a lowly duty but he stood sentinel still all the same.

Sue stole a glance at him through eyes that were bruised and blackened. Her whole body hurt. Orm glanced over his shoulder in her direction and Sue’s eyes shut again. She couldn’t bear to feel the weight of the general’s gaze on her – there was something about him that made Sue feel comfortable, something that she knew to distrust, and those orange lenses did little to convince her otherwise.

A voice devoid of emotion forced its way through Orm’s paper-thin lips and slithered across the room. “I know you are awake, surface-dweller.”

Sue’s blood ran cold at the sound of Orm’s voice. Her body was still so battered that she could barely keep her eyes open long enough to see the Atlantean general skulk from across the room towards her bedside. Yet she could feel his shadow looming over her and feel the sound of his armour moving gently as he breathed.

Her eyes still closed, Sue tried to summon up the strength to speak. When she did, her wavering voice was coarse and quiet. “Where am I?”

“You are safe,” Orm sneered. Sue didn't need to see his face to feel the contempt dripping from his every word. “Sixty-two Atlanteans lost their lives in the attack, the princess’s life hangs in the balance, but it appears that your powers shielded you from the worst of the explosion.”

The number struck Sue in the chest like a sledgehammer and she felt wet on her cheeks. It took her a few moments to realise she was crying. The tears stung against the scratch marks on her face. Sue began to try to piece together what had happened but her memories were hazy.

“I’m sorry, Orm,” Sue murmured as she forced upon her teary eyes to look up at the Atlantean. “I’m so sorry.”

“General Marius,” Orm responded icily.

“The girl,” Sue whispered almost to herself rather than the general. “One moment she was smiling and then the next she … she exploded? Who was she? None of this makes any sense.”

From behind the orange lenses set into his helmet, Orm’s eyes narrowed. There was no anger in them, only a steely, emotionless judgement. The large gauntlets wrapped around his hands wrapped around the edge of Sue Storm’s bed tightly and he leant towards her ever so slightly. He was close enough now for Sue to see the shoots of black hair beneath his helm and to make out the beady, brown eyes locked on her.

“Of course it doesn’t make sense to you. Why would it? This is not your world. You know nothing of our people. The history of Atlantis is not in your blood, as it is in mine and was in theirs, and still you presume yourself qualified to advise our king on the affairs of the Atlantean state.”

One of Orm’s gauntleted hands released its clutch on the side of Sue’s bed and reached towards her frail form. She felt the Atlantean’s armoured fingers wrap tight around the collar of her bedgown and tug her slightly towards him. Her heart raced and her palms grew sweaty with shock. She was too weak to stop him, she knew that, and her powers seemed to have been sapped by protecting her from the explosion.

“The girl was with the Drowned," Orm spat the last word like its presence in his mouth disgusted him. "Manta struck at the heart of Atlantis – at our very capital – and because of your weakness, our kingdom is shaken to its very core. All of Atlantis saw you bid the king invite the girl onto the stage. And yet while freeborn Atlantean men lie dead, you still draw breath. Where is the justice in that?”

Sue fought through the pain to lift one of her hands towards her collar and attempt to prize Orm away from it. “I want to speak to the king.”

“No, I think you have done enough damage," the general sneered as he slapped Sue’s hand away like a gnat.

Something seemed to turn on in Orm’s brain. The brown orbs behind the general’s lensed helmet lost their frigid cold and instead became fiery hot. He lifted his other hand from the side of the bed and clamped it around Sue’s neck. She let out a pained sob as it tightened around his throat. Orm reinforced it with his other hand and began to squeeze until Sue’s already-bruised face began to turn red.

“Once I am done scalding Manta and his adherents from the face of our kingdom, your world will be next, Susan. Know that your actions have guided the king’s hand towards war with the surface world more readily than any of my treatises ever could. Even now, my men make their way towards Maine to destroy that pretender to the thr-”

Sue’s nails were busy scratching helplessly against Orm’s gauntlets when a sudden knock on the door made the general release his hold on her neck. She took a sudden, desperate breath of air as the Atlantean let her body flop weakly back onto the bed. Orm sneered down at her as the door crept open and a young woman, no older than seventeen or eighteen from the look of her, appeared in the doorway of the room.


Her fiery red hair seemed to have a life of its own. Atop her head was rested what looked like a crown, though Sue had never seen any princess other than Namora since arriving in Atlantis, nor heard talk of one, but from the way the girl carried herself it was clear she was nobility – or at least used to be. Upon noticing Sue struggling for breath she pursed her lips and looked towards the ground, perhaps afraid of incurring the general’s wrath.

“General Marius, the king requests your presence.”

A flicker of annoyance crossed Orm’s face. He stepped back from Sue’s bed and his eyes seemed to revert back to their usual emotionless state. Sue rubbed at her sore throat as she watched the general match across the room towards the messenger girl. He stopped in front of her and looked her up and down.

“Xebellian vermin,” he muttered and let out a mouthful of spit that landed loudly at the red-haired young woman’s feet before exiting the room.

The young woman until Orm was out of earshot before making her way towards Sue’s bed. Without asking she pulled up a seat beside Sue and began inspecting the choke marks around her neck. Once the Xebellian had seen enough, her fingers began to glow with a blue energy that Sue didn’t recognise. The Invisible Woman drew back in her bed somewhat but the young girl reassured her with a smile and slowly the bruising on Sue’s neck disappeared.

With that the girl turned to leave. She was halfway across the room when something that Orm had said seemed to stick in Sue’s mind. Maine.

“Orm said you were from Xebel?” Sue called out to the young woman. “Is that right?”

The girl turned to face Sue and nodded guilty in her direction. “Yes, I am.”

“I didn’t realise that there were any Xebellians left.”

The softness in Sue’s voice seemed to catch the red-haired woman off guard. It was almost as if she was suspicious that Sue’s interest was a trap of some sort. When she spoke next she adopted a posture and a tone of voice that seemed to indicate that she was simply going through the motions – as if she had been forced to account for her people for many years.

“My people were rightly punished for siding with the traitor Atlan during the Glorious Reclama-”

“Stop it,” Sue said firmly. She beckoned the girl to return to the seat at her bedside with a smile. “You don’t have to do that. Not with me.”

Hearing the words leave Sue’s mouth was like a weight lifted off the young woman’s shoulders. She sunk into the seat by Sue’s bed and let out a heavy sigh of relief at not having to live a lie for the briefest of moments. Sue pulled herself to the edge of the bed and placed her hand on the girl’s shoulder with a maternal squeeze.

“What’s your name?”

From the way that the young girl looked at her it was clear that no-one had thought to ask her name in a very long time. “My name is Mera.”

Chinatown, New York City

---

The Golden Tigers were out in force, monitoring the streets. The Iron Fist was out in force, and rumor was there was a girl with him. It was becoming a bloody Christmas Eve, and Will Scott was hoping it would end soon. He was with his brother, Douglas Scott, and a couple other Golden Tigers. Chaka had given orders that the Tigers needed to stick together if they had any chance of defeating the vigilante that plagued Chinatown.

They turned into an alleyway, following their planned route so that they could rendezvous with another crew. The good news: the other crew was there waiting. The bad news: they were mangled corpses at the feet of a stranger. A man stood there, wearing a golden mask with black accents. He was shirtless in the snow, wearing baggy green pants. But his skin tone was... different. He didn't seem right. He was carrying two knives, most likely the weapons of the Tigers he just slew. In the blink of an eye, both knives were thrown and impaled two of Will's men.

The Iron Fist charged forward, Doug and another of the Tigers rushing in to meet him. Whoever this was matched every blow for blow, blocking anything the Tigers threw at him and then countering more harshly. Doug and the other were disarmed, and Will stood in shock as the dagger pierced through his brother's throat. The two fell to the ground, choking for breath, as this vigilante tightened his grip on the knives. A wicked smile spread across his lips as Will charged forward, his "claw" extended to try and rip out a chunk of this murderer's flesh.

Golden Tiger knives were sharpened to the point of near perfection. Davos was not one to fall to such a simplistic attack, and used the opportunity to place both knives on the wrist of his opponent. As Will's charge continued due to his momentum, Davos was able to spin around his opponent and slice through layers of skin and bone. At the end of it, Will collapses to the ground, clutching his bloody stump and screaming in pain. Davos circled his prey, squatting down in front of the last Golden Tiger. Wil, between sobs and shivers of pain, croaked out a single question. "The Iron Fist... doesn't kill... who are you?"

"I'm the real Iron Fist, not the undeserving pretender. But that doesn't matter right now. I need you to deliver a message to Chaka. I am coming for him tomorrow night. And I will kill him."

In the blink of an eye, Davos was gone. William Scott was left to kneel in the blood of his friends and family, clutching the mark of his own missing limb for a moment. But he willed himself onto his feet again, and began stumbling through the streets. He had to warn Chaka... before it was too late.

"Pete," I call my boyfriend, "any chance you can track down where Arcade is?"

"I've been working on it," Peter responds. Of course he is. He's the best. "But he's good. I'll need a bit more time."

"Copy."

It doesn't take me long to get to Central Park. When I reach the destination Arcade sent me to, I find another group of civilians trapped in a force field just like the one in Times Square. It's smaller, and seems to be a small box over the top of them. I land on it, and can hear them calling for me.

Which seems weird if these things are supposed to be airtight.

Searching the side of the box, I see there are small gaps allowing air in and out. If he's not trying to suffocate these people, then why did he trap them in a box?

"Spider-Woman! Welcome to the arena!" Arcade's voice explodes above me, drawing my attention above. There I see a swirling spiral of his drones coming down from the night sky like the New Years fireworks I should be watching right now. "I didn't expect you to get here so quickly. I would have had things set up already."

"Why do you have these people in a cage, Arcade!?" I yell to the villain. "Let them go and deal with me. I'm the one you want!"

"Oh no, that wouldn't be any fun!" the criminal titters with laughter. "What I want is entertainment. And I want to see if you can save the people from the space invaders! Get ready for the challenge of your life, hero!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" I mutter to no one, knowing that there's no way he'd respond to me even if he heard me.

Suddenly, the drones above me snap into attention, and begin moving down towards me. They begin to dance, almost. But it's in a completely straight line coming directly for me. Suddenly, the line closest to me breaks off from the rest and streaks towards me and the box the civilians are in. My Spider Sense warns me of the coming danger, and allows me plenty of time to get out of the way of the dive-bombing drones. But as I flip out of the way, I find that the drones don't follow me. They simply head down and swipe against the cage he has his prisoners in. Below me, the cage shrinks, causing the people inside to lose some of the little room they have.

And that's when it hits me.

It's literally space invaders. He said it right there in his taunt to me before the game began. I need to play a giant, real life game of Space Invaders to save a bunch of innocent people on New Years Eve night. You know, I say this a lot, but my life is really, really weird. I wonder if Batman ever has to deal with this kind of stuff. I bet he doesn't.

The same line of drones breaks rank yet again and comes our way, but now I'm ready for them. I web one of them up and decide to use it as a ball and chain to take the rest of the drones out. While the craft is fast and nimble, it's not strong enough to get out of my grasp. I wrangle it in towards me, before spinning it around my head.

The first enemy drone that comes near me and my unwilling partner is knocked off course before slamming into the ground a few yards clear of the box.

"Oh yea, this one is gonna be much more fun," I smile under my mask. Who says fighting evil masterminds can't be fun too?

I ninja my way through the next few rows of drones, but from the looks of things, there's plenty more coming. Still, my improvised mace is doing its job, knocking its friends away with relative ease. I don't know if Arcade planned for me to do this or what, but if he didn't he had a serious design flaw with this one.

Of course, just as I think that, the speed from the drones starts increasing exponentially after every dive bomb.

"You just had to get cocky, didn't you?" I ask myself.

Before long, the drones are too fast for me, and they break through my defenses. They begin slamming into the force field, shrinking it each time. I can see the people inside begin to panic, and I can't blame them. If this keeps going on, they'll be crushed by not only the force fields, but by the other people trapped in with them. I can already seen some of them climbing on top of the others in order to relieve the pressure growing around them.

It's clear my strategy isn't going to cut it. I search desperately for something that can take out a large amount of the drones at once, and come to one conclusion.

I'm going to throw a Central Park tree at them.

In order to do that, I have to leave the box completely unprotected, unfortunately. I don't have any choice, but it still kills me that these people are going to see me desert them, even if it's only for a time.

I find a suitable tree, and summon all the strength I can muster. I know I'm strong, but I can only hope I've got enough strength to uproot this giant and use it as a weapon. The tree strains under the force I apply to it, and can hear the roots start to give way. Suddenly, it gives way, and I'm able to swing it in a large arc. I gain momentum and toss it like an Olympic hammer towards the drones. It cuts through them like a hot knife through butter, and in a blink of an eye they're gone.

The force field disappears, and the innocent people are released. Some of them hug their loved ones. Some of them look to the heavens in appreciation. Some look to me and merely wave weakly, thanking me for the help.

"Impossible!" Arcade's voice rages over a surviving drone. "Completely impossible!"

"Okay, Arcade," I growl at him. "I've played your game. It's time to end this."

"No! No it's not! I'll think of another game! You'll never beat Arcade!" the villain rants.

"Gwen...I have him. He's in the Paramount Building," Peter comes over the comms. "You've got him."

"Okay, Arcade," I say to him. "If you don't want to come to me, I'll come to you. See you soon."

The Triskelion, SHIELD

The sound of Ben Grimm’s heavy fists slamming against the custom-made vibranium laced heavy bag reverberated around his quarters. On the couch a few metres away from him was a recuperating Guy Gardner with a copy of The New York Post in hand. Every few seconds, as Ben’s punches landed, Gardner would grimace and look away from its pages. After a few minutes of trying and failing to persevere despite the noise, Guy set the newspaper to the side and turned on the large flat-screen television on the wall.

A familiar face flashed appeared onscreen. Though he looked a little worse for wear and was still limping from taking a bullet through the leg, it was clearly Zhang Chin. Grainy footage of the chemist being bundled into the back of a truck played whilst some talking head ran through a list of his crimes. Guy rolled his eyes at the sight and reached to change the channel but the sound of Ben’s workout ending stayed his hand.

Ben let out a grumble as he sat next to Guy on the couch. “Can you believe this baloney? Last week Chin was sitting in a cell in The Hague awaiting trial and now that scumbag is free as a bird. And why? Because some bigwigs in China put the screws on Hill and she blinked.”

“Chin’s not free," Guy sighed without looking away from the screen. "He’s going to live out the rest of his life on house arrest in deepest, darkest China. It might not be the outcome we wanted, but it’s better than knowing he’s still out there selling his wares to the highest bidder.”

“Oh, I bet he’s out peddling that poison of his again before year’s end. You think the Chinese are doing this outta the goodness of their hearts? If they aren’t intending to put him to work, they’re gonna profit from having him out there, making those toxins of his. It makes me sick, Carrot Top. I don’t know how you’re sitting there so calm. You took two bullets to bring that sucker in, for pete’s sake.”

Ben was right, of course, the Chinese never did anything out of the goodness of their hearts – but the Americans weren’t any better. SHIELD was a United Nations-sanctioned body and that meant it worked above national interests. Gardner had spent his entire career making decisions that put global peace above the interests of his own country, and if Hill said this was a price worth paying, he would go along with it. Once decisions like this were made, they weren’t unmade. He’d learned that much from shadowing Dugan for years.

“Let’s just say this isn’t the first time I’ve been on the wrong side of diplomatic manoeuvring,” Guy responded with a slightly wistful smile.

It was met with a chuckle from Ben. “From what I seem to recall the only manoeuvring going on was you getting beneath Namor’s cousin.”

Guy rolled his eyes and turned over the channel. Amongst the dozen or so Guy flicked through, there was a live feed of New York mayor Calvin Cassidy giving a speech to students at NYU, some kind of game show presented by a man with fiery red hair and clownish clothing, and some Canadian football highlights. He landed on another news channel and was about to flick back to the football highlights when another familiar face appeared on the screen.

“<Reed Richards and the inaugural class of his new academic institution the Future Foundation touched down in the Democratic Republic of Latveria this morning. Recently-elected Latverian president Victor von Doom is, of course, a fellow graduate of the now-defunct Baxter Buil->

A smile appeared on Guy’s face and he pointed towards the screen. “Well, will you look at that? Doc's taking those kids of his to meet Doom.”

Ben looked conflicted. He watched as Reed made his way down the steps of the private jet with his students following behind him. They were all decked out in white costumes, with a few personalised flourishes here and there, with overawed expressions splashed on their faces. It was probably the first time most of them had even been on a plane, let alone to Europe. Latveria was a hell of a place to take your first vacation.


“Reed did always want to teach someday ... but Doom? Christ, I mean, I know the whole world’s gone mad but ‘good guy’ or not, the Stretch I knew would never have waltzed a bunch of teenagers into the heart of Latveria. What was it that Johnny said? Once a Doom, always a Doom.”

“That reminds me,” Guy said with an accusatory look. “When we first met back on the Pegasus, you said something about us having met be-”

Ben shook his head abruptly and interrupted the SHIELD agent. “Can’t do it.”

“What?! You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”

“Of course I know what you was gonna ask, Stretch expressly forbid me from talking about this kinda stuff with people, Carrot Top. Something about it throwing off the time-space continuum and the whole universe collapsing.”

Guy was so taken aback by Ben’s refusal that he found himself springing to his feet. The shock of pain that ran through his side made him almost instantly regret it but he did his best to mask it. It was, at least to Gardner’s reckoning, the first time that Grimm had ever refused him anything, and though he was aware he was about to sound slightly entitled, he couldn’t help but hold his indignation back.

“Are you being serious? I’ve heard you talk about Doom being a bad guy on your Earth a thousand times. You and Johnny even said it to his face. And what about the kid telling Spider-Woman about that Spider-Man guy back on your Earth? Where was the continuum thing then?!”

“Look, rules are rules,” Ben shrugged. “I’d love to be able to tell you, I really would, but what happens if by telling you I set in motion a course of events that brings about the zombie apocalypse or something? You ain’t thinking this through.”

“Come on, Benji.”

Ben let out a heavy sigh and gestured to Guy to return to the couch. “Alright, alright, but if the Horseman of Death comes charging through that door or an asteroid wipes us out two minutes after I tell you, it’s on you.”

Guy’s indignation melted away and he nodded bashfully before launching himself back onto the couch. Ben used one of his craggy digits to indicate to Guy to learn towards him and deployed his gravelly voice at a whisper so low that Gardner had to strain to hear him. His bright blue eyes sparked with earnestness. Guy’s twinkled with expectation.

“On my Earth, you were a hero.”

“I knew it,” Guy said as he launched a spontaneous fist punch high above his head. “I knew I was a cape. What was my name? What were my powers?! Was I more powerful than you? I bet I was. If you can lift a firetruck over your head, I should be able to lift a mountain at least.”

“I ain’t even gonna lie to you,” Ben nodded. “You were about as powerful as they came. Your powers … well, they were really something. Like, I thought Stretch and Suzie could pull off some crazy stuff with theirs but you were something else – like a force of nature. Lowlifes and creeps all around the galaxy knew your name.”

“Super-Guy? Incredi-Guy? No, no, that doesn’t work. Strong Guy? Oh, that’s just ridiculous. What was my name, Benji? I’m dying over here.”

Ben looked over his shoulder as if he were being surveyed, perhaps suddenly cautious of having revealed too much already. “Your name?”

Guy nodded. His green eyes were overflowing with excitement. His entire childhood Guy Gardner had wanted nothing more than to be a superhero and here Grimm was on the cusp of confirming that in some world, if not his own, he had been one. All those years spent burying his head in General Glory comics had been building towards this moment. Guy felt his heart stop as Ben opened his mouth to speak.

“The Condiment King.”

The moment the words left Ben’s mouth, all of the blood and the excitement from Guy’s face seemed to drain away. “You son of a bitch.”

Guy launched a punch in Ben’s direction. It landed with a crunch against Ben’s shoulder and the SHIELD agent fell backwards in his seat cradling his knuckles. He’d broken at least two of his fingers. Not that Ben seemed to care, he was too busy leaving back in his seat howling at the top of his lungs so loudly it could be heard outside of their quarters.

“Your face! My god, I really had you going there for a second, didn’t I? Guy Gardner – the Condiment King. Striking fear into the heart of bad guys all across the galaxy one squeezy bottle of ketchup at a time. Oh christ, that was priceless. I wish Matchstick was here to see your face!”

Gardner shook his head angrily, plucked up his copy of The New York Post, and left Ben's quarters. The Thing was still laughing to himself when his gaze returned to the television screen on the wall. Reed was shaking hands with a Latverian diplomat and inviting the teenagers to do so one-by-one. Ben's laughter tapered out slowly until he was left, silent and alone, staring vacantly at his best friend's smiling face.

”The Ranchero of Miracle Mesa” - The Magnificent Seven: Part Two

---

---

The road to New York was different than before. But then, the difference a hurtling fire bike and a dinky old panel van was nothing to sneeze at, neither. The rush of countryside exploding into the wealth and concrete of the city became slow, rolling hillsides that gave way to nothing but wide plains of grass. Wasn’t nothing of particular interest, but it was better than staring at the five other men assembled with him.

Every rumble of the van along the road set each of them to hushed groans, hands coming to nurse the fresh wounds. It was hard to look at ‘em like this, cut up and bruised but still bein’ shipped out to fight. The body heat of six fellers jammed into the same metal tube wasn’t helping much either. Just more uncomfortable memories bubbling to the surface.

Instead Vigilante held his hat in his hands, tracing its contours with his finger. Gazing out into the great green yonder. Billy Gunn had told him once, when he was knee high to a grasshopper, that they had the whole of this country mapped or carto-graphed in some way or another. He could hardly imagine it, then. The desert seemed to stretch off and beyond into infinity from the roof of his house, to the tune of guitar strings from the house below. But no, he’d pored over the map of the route like it was one of them Dollars trilogy movies. Frank had said somethin’ about not worrying about an ambush or nothin’, but the Soldiers were none too careful. Just their way, n’ that.

Speaking of, it was a shame to see Frank go. Man had his mission, n’ Vigilante wasn’t the sort to stop him from it. He’d been more than kind to help the Soldiers this far, anyhow. Now it was just a matter of finishing the fight.

The first signs of the city were starting to crop up, now. Gray and brown industry clawing their way from the ground and marking the sky with lines of smog.

“Changed country.” The Star Spangled kid remarked beside him. His mask was off, and his mop of curly black hair hung loose around his face. He was toying with a billy club they’d “appropriated” from SHIELD before they loaded into the van and drove to meet their destiny.

“Yessir. I suppose it is.” The developed world before them began to reach for the clouds. Vig didn’t much fancy himself the sort to be able to comment, but Warpath seemed well and truly removed from everywhere else. Here was a place that was a tangle of roads and alleyways, full of folk careful to mark each and every little divot they saw fit to pass. He supposed it that the sense of adventure had gone. People were content to build towers so high they could see the world entire. They seemed to forget that just the view wasn’t much worth it.

Well, Vig wasn’t much for sentiment anyway. It was one of them towers they’d come to attack, and it was more than rightly time to start getting ready. The day’s first light was already starting to refract off the glass of the monoliths they passed. Just about go time.

Vig hauled himself to his feet, grabbing at a piece of cargo netting that lined the inside of the van.

”Well pardners… This is it. We all got our part to play, let's keep it in tune.”

---

---

Metropolis, Delaware - Hob's Bay

Jaime Reyes put his hands on his head, doing his best to slow the rapid beat of his heart. Both of his friends were gone, and he hadn't a clue where they'd went. He was stuck in the middle of a stinking set of old warehouses in the dark, and the only person with him was a metahuman that had just been attempting to slice him into ribbons not but a few minutes ago.

'As shitty situations go, it doesn't get much worse than this.' He thought, his expression twisting as he tried to work himself out of his current mood. Needed to be focused now. Needed to stay calm if he wanted to figure this all out.

"Right." He finally breathed, letting his hands drop away from his head and down to his sides. He turned about, facing the young Asian woman draped in shadow. Something about the darkness that hugged against her form reminded Jaime of that monster Caulder ran around with- Warp. It unsettled him enough that Reyes decided to divert his eyes while he spoke to her.

"You didn't touch 'em, and I...believe you." There wasn't much to be gained by pressing her. Reyes could tell from the way she spoke that she was telling the truth; besides, if he couldn't trust her, Jaime would find himself truly alone. And that thought...sort of terrified him at the moment. "But then where on God's green earth did they run off to? And why?" It wasn't like Paco or Brenda to just bolt the moment things went south. Well. Maybe it made sense for Paco to run, the little coward, but Brenda would've tried to take a pipe to the Silver Surfer's head if she was at the Raft.

The other woman was in far worse shape than he was. Her hands were shaking with a violent and uncontrollable terror, and sweat was trickling down every contour of her face. She was throwing her head around in every direction like she was trying to find something in the dark. Just seeing her like that was nearly enough to unnerve Jaime even worse than he already was.

Reyes hesitated before deciding to move closer to her, his hands held out to take her arms as gently as he could. "Hey," He whispered, trying to keep his own voice in check so he didn't make matters worse. "You're okay, we'll figure this out. Like I said before, I'm not gonna hurt you. What's...what's your name?" Distracting her from whatever it was she was scared of sounded like a good idea to him. He couldn't be sure why she was so worked up, aside from the fact they'd nearly killed each other not that long ago.

"Sil." She muttered after a few seconds of thought, her eyes slipping away from her surroundings and locking on Jaime's. "My name's Sil. And it's... it's not you I'm afraid of."

His brow furrowed. "The 'other one' you mentioned?" He asked. Part of him knew what she meant, but the rest of him didn't want to believe it. He wanted her to say no, as unlikely as it would be. "Another one...like...me?"

"Yes." Sil nodded. "Like you, but worse. So...so much worse."

There was no other logical conclusion for Reyes to come to, but he decided in a split second that he'd deny it for as long as he could. "We need to get out of here." He hurriedly moved on, drowning the lingering doubt with something so much more simple: survival. Escape. "We'll...we'll figure something out once we're safe."

She nodded again, remaining silent as she reluctantly pulled away from Reyes. Despite the darkness that clung around them, some unknown enemy hiding under its shadow, they had to get moving; remaining here was a death sentence. The two started to make their way back toward the van, Jaime fighting back the urge to vomit as his mind lingered on the fates of his missing friends. He had to believe they were okay, that they'd...ran or-...or something-

Jaime was halfway through opening the driver side door when the lights went out.

Not just in the van, but everywhere. Every single street lamp in sight, every headlight in the distance, even the apartments hanging in the background went dark. He practically threw his head inside to check that even the screen on the cellphone he'd left on his seat was pitch black. "What the hell-"

"I'm sorry." Sil called from somewhere in that mess of black, her voice shaken and uncertain. "I- I'm sorry about your friends, but I can't...can't be out like this. I need to stay in the dark." Her voice grew softer now. Jaime couldn't tell if she was lowering it, or if she was just getting further away. "Its the only place that's safe."

"Wait, you can't- damn it, I need you!" Reyes roared in frustration, climbing back out of the van in a vain attempt to find her again. She couldn't do this to him. She was the whole reason he was here, the whole reason his body felt like it'd been dragged through a bed of nails, and she was the reason he wasn't around to protect Brenda and Paco-

This wasn't fair.

"I'm sorry. I've already spent too much time in the open. I'm...I'm sorry." Sil apologized again, and again, her voice little more than a distant, whispy echo now. "Someone else can help you. Not me. Can't be me."

She was abandoning him. She was the only one that could help him find the alien- that even knew anything about the damn thing- and she was just...just leaving. It made Jaime's stomach curl up with a blind rage as he raced out into lines upon lines of identical warehouses. "Sil!" He called out. "Get back here, damn it, SIL!"

"He's here-"

Something struck Reyes in the chest with more force than he'd ever felt in his life. Armor buckled like it was made of tin foil, and he felt his feet leave the asphalt before he even knew what was happening. An explosion of noise struck his ears a moment later, rattling around in his skull like a clap of thunder even as he hit the ground again.

Jaime let out a pained cry, though he couldn't hear it over the ringing in his ears. He gripped the sides of his helmet, trying desperately to cover the ears he couldn't get to. Panic built up in his chest like water against a dam, threatening to make his insides burst. Something hot, wet and sticky was running down his bare abdomen.

"Dios...mío..." He groaned, the sound of his own voice finally peeking through the ringing. Heavy hands moved to the ground, pushing against it to raise himself up into a sitting position. It was a slow and arduous work to fight against the heaving agony in his chest, but once he'd gotten there, Reyes found that he could finally see again. The darkness Sil had created had was now awash with that dim light it had tried to snuff out.

The light Reyes needed to see the gargantuan figure that towered over him.

Though he was barely off of his back, Jaime could tell in an instant he was nearly two feet shorter than the monstrosity standing before him. Its sheer size was wholly unnatural, with shoulders twice as wide as any normal man's should've been, and arms thick with sinew like steel cables. With titanic form draped in the natural darkness of the night, it was hard for Reyes to make out whatever this thing was, but even then he was barely looking at it now. No, his gaze was zeroed in on the other, much smaller, and much more familiar shape that it held aloft.

"...Sil..." Reyes croaked, staring with widened, bloodshot eyes at the claw-like hand wrapped around her throat. The fingers were so tight that Sil's skin underneath and around them was turning a strange shade of palish purple. She was fighting to take in tiny gasps of air, each one faster, weaker and, more horrific than the last. She was pawing at the hand, unable to do so much as wrap them around the giant's fingers.

"Did I hurt you, little brother?" Its voice was warm and silky, booming with a contradictory softness and power that rolled together with disturbing charm. It was the kind of voice Jaime would've expected to come from an actor. "I'm so very sorry. Sometimes I forget my own strength." It- he- laughed. A jolly thing, like he didn't have a care in the world.

This monstrous thing, this grotesque display of a living being, turned to look at Jaime now. And he saw his own face. Not his, exactly, but that of the armor. A shiny, black carapace wrapped tightly about a form bursting with strength and sheer mass, that distinctive, almost insect-like armor almost completely identical to Reyes's. The only difference was the mouth. It was grinning. The armor's faceplate was smiling at him. Even worse, it started to move a second later.

"I know you were close to taking this kill, but I've been tracking this one for weeks now!" He chuckled again, turning those glowing, golden eyes toward the girl he was suffocating the life out of. He had he held up by the throat, staring up into her tear-soaked eyes. Her brown orbs met his, the two holding one another's gaze for several seconds. There was so much fear reflecting in hers. So much terror.

Sil was disturbed by what she saw looking back at her. For all that this monster had done to her, for all the harm it had caused and intended for her, she expected to see sadism or cruelty reflected in those golden slits. Or, perhaps, just the cold, uncaring stare of a lifeless mask. But all she saw there was a flash of pity.

"You put up a good fight." He assured her quietly. "I'll make it quick."

"NO!" Reyes roared so loud it burned his throat. He reached inside of himself, ignoring all of the pain he was in to bring up his arm and lower it toward the black giant's chest. He tried to will his plasma cannon to slip over his arm, expecting that same, usual heat to fill his hand. But it didn't come. Panic practically bursting from his throat, he called out for the Scarab's help. "Khaji- cannon, now!"

But it didn't come.

Khaji Da was still silent.

The other alien was turned fully toward Jaime now, a look of bewilderment on his face. "What are you doing?" He asked, his lips creasing down into a questioning frown as his gaze narrowed on the arm held up toward him. It didn't make any sense. "I don't...understand, little brother." He started toward Reyes, his boots sounding with an audible impact that came with each footfall. There was no hostility in his posture, even as the alien lowered Sil's shaking form and dangled her by his side like she was little more than a doll. "Are you trying to shoot me?"

"Let her- let her go." Jaime ordered once more, the force in his voice greatly diminished as he brought his arm slowly back down to the snow-slicked asphalt underneath of him. "This is between you...and me." Even though Reyes didn't know what the hell this was. He didn't know how the alien was going to react when Jaime tracked it down, he was even preparing for a fight- but this was just about the last thing he expected. It had come to him. And it sounded so...

Human.

Hearing Reyes's words caused the alien pause. His exoskeletal face shifted with shock and confusion, his glowing gaze zipping between Jaime's faceplate and the metahuman he was practically dragging along the ground. "You don't know?" He asked incredulously. "You don't know what THIS is?" He suddenly shifted forward, lowering himself down so that he and Jaime were uncomfortably close. Sil was brought around, still struggling just to remain semi-conscious as the monster turned her paling, sickly face toward Jaime. "Oh Little brother. Oh, by the Reach, little brother, you truly don't know." Sadness etched itself into the words of the hulking, inhuman beast with a metal face that bent and moved in the most unnatural of ways.

Jaime took several, ragged breaths, his eyes tightening with rage underneath his mask. It took a great deal of self-control to keep from lashing out at the second beetle as he tossed a person around and spoke of her like she was little more than a rodent to be disposed of. "I don't know...what the hell is wrong with you..." Jaime started, trying to push himself to his feet. It took an extraordinary amount of effort, one of his hands taking hold of a nearby trash can for leverage while the other stuck an accusatory finger up toward the towering monster. "But you're gonna put her down," he snarled, glancing down at Sil, unsure how long she had left. "You're gonna tell me what you did to my friends," His eyes snapped right back up to the larger alien's, matching his gaze with all of the courage he could muster. "-And then you're gonna explain all of the mierda coming out of your mouth since you tried to punch a hole in my chest."

For several moments, the Alpha was silent. He stood aloft in the cold, winter night, his head turned upwards toward the night sky. The light pollution from Metropolis's towering skyscrapers all but blotted out the stars above, but it didn't stop the alien from staring while he thought. After a moment he sighed and looked back to Jaime...

A smile on his metal face as he tried to suppress a chuckle. "I'm sorry, little brother, I know you're serious. But all of these words coming out of your mouth- I cannot take them seriously! You speak like you're one of these primates and not-"

Jaime Reyes shot a closed fist into the Alpha's jaw. He felt his knuckles nearly buckle when the momentous force of his punch was transferred from his extended arm up into the metallic skull of the alien, the power enough to make the behemoth's head snap backward with an audible thwack. The skin underneath Jaime's gauntlet rippled and tore at the blow as the sinew, muscle, and bone it covered screamed out in agony, unsure how their owner had managed to harm them so.

The screaming in his bones was a mere whimper compared to the indignant cry on Reyes's lips. Adrenaline rushed through his body as he threw his other arm forward, letting it impact against his counterpart's abdomen with force equal to or perhaps even greater than the first blow he'd thrown. It slammed into place with an ear-pounding thump, the carapace it struck contorting and bending on contact. He wheeled the first fist around again, bringing it back into the Alpha's cheek, a satisfying crunch following the quick, wild blow. Again and again and again, the boy continued to fire off a flurry of haymakers that made his enemy stumble and backpedal with each landed hit. He cried out, his pent-up rage finally released from deep within his stomach as he poured it all into his assault.

Three months.

Three months of running. Of hiding. Of ignoring the cries for help. Of turning the other cheek. Of 'letting the police handle it.' Three months of holding the power of an atom bomb in his hand yet never being able to use it for anything. Three months of running around like a cockroach, avoiding the light, terrified of doing so much as helping someone that needed him.

Three months of mounting uselessness and anger all channeled into eight bloodied knuckles and his burning lungs and throat as he let it all out.

"Where's Caulder?!" Jaime raged, bits of black fluid and chunks of carapace flying passed his face. "Where's Brenda?! Paco?!" He cried, spittle crashing against the front of his mask as he poured his rage into every bone-shattering attack. "Where's all that FIGHT you had a couple seconds ago?!" He was exhausted. Aching. All of the cuts Sil had given him and the suit had repaired had already torn open again, the scar tissue flooded with blood and energy rapidly leaving Jaime's body with every passing moment. He ignored it. "Come on! Keep talkin'!" Exhaustion rocked his whole system, yet he kept flinging punch after punch after punch, blinded by the whirlwind of emotion that had overtaken him. "Call me a monkey again you fat, ugly piece of-"

A palm found its way onto Jaime's face, ten sharp digits digging into his helmet as the Alpha picked up Reyes by his head. "Silence, boy." He whispered, his voice barely heard above Jaime's screaming. The rage was replaced in an instant by pain. Nothing but howling pain. He was squeezing down on Jaime's head with enough force to crumble away parts of the helmet, revealing tufts of black, sweat-soaked hair and tanned flesh underneath. "Such outbursts do not suit a member of our species. Not to mention the deplorables you'll attract with that... inane screeching."

Not but a moment later, the sound of distant sirens echoed through the nearby streets. Whether they were meant for the docks or not, Jaime couldn't know; but he could barely keep his eyes open at the moment, let alone determine something like that.

"Hrmph. Of course." The alpha muttered, equally annoyed as he was frustrated. "A disappointing first meeting, little brother, I must admit. I expected more from you. Your reputation among the primates is...ill-placed, I fear. Still. You are my brother. I am obliged by our code to teach you." He sighed. "I will return for you when the trials are prepared. In the meantime..." He turned his eyes toward the water of the bay, the light of the moon glistening over its surface. "Why don't you cool off?"

With a mere flick of his wrist, the Alpha beetle sent his younger counterpart soaring through the air toward the icy depths. The last image his little brother saw before being submerged in the winter waters was the Black Beetle turning away, the unconscious metahuman known as Sil slung over his shoulder as he receded into the darkest corners of the City of Tomorrow.

---

---

---

---

If Weather Wizard was feeling nostalgic after getting out of prison, then he was just going to love the reunion she had planned.

Iris ran against the winds, as she reached the edge of the storm the air became cool. She could feel the wind fighting against her, trying to push her back. Rain began to fall, splashing off ground as it struck the harsh surface of the badlands. She ran straight at Weather Wizard, intending to take him out before he even noticed she was there however as she started to get close Iris noticed that he raised a hand to the side and a massive gust of wind hit her right side. She went tumbling away, feeling as if she had just been hit by a car. Rolling with the wind she came into a crouch looking right at Mardon.

“Give up now Mardon. I’ve already beaten you once before, don’t make this worse than it has to be.”

Pushing herself onto her feet as there was a clap of thunder she charged Mardon, a bolt of lightning striking the ground behind her. She felt the surge of power as the electricity dissipated into the ground.

---

Snart crouched behind the seat, pushing his feet against the seat behind him. Bracing himself as the bus shook from the impact, he nodded over at Mick who stood up suddenly, running down between the rows of seats and out of the door. He could hear the sound of flame being thrown from the modified flamethrower Heatwave used. Standing up himself, Leonard Snart walked down between the rows of seats. Stopping to pat their driver on the shoulder. “Good job, Overdrive.”

The kid looked up at him, through that emotionless helmet and nodded. “I’ve done my part.”

“Now we’ll do ours, five minutes. Keep the engine running.” The sounds of alarms could be heard by this point, he looked down at the watch that sat on his wrist. By all estimates based on her takedown of Mota, takedown of Heatwave while he was enhanced by the Silver Surfer and her subsequent injured travel time to New York they had approximately ten minutes where it would take her to beat and subdue Weather Wizard, learn about their current operation and then arrive in time to stop it. Five minutes gave them a safety net, should Mardon fail to hold her for a full ten minutes. Besides, the job shouldn’t take too long anyway.

---

Iris jumped into the air to try and grab Mardon, she had initially moved in for a punch but the wind had picked up behind him and raised him into the air. Obviously since the last time that Iris had thrown him in jail he had decided to go out and learn some new tricks. Jumping into the air she could see the smirk on his face as she was obviously going to fall short. Arms at her sides she spun them, casting herself into the air after him.

The two collided in a mess of limbs as he knocked her off course, the two falling onto the dirt. Rolling to the side as she heard a particularly nasty gust of wind coming towards her she winced as he back was hit by a shower of hail. It felt like getting hit by thousands of BB Pellets. Iris pushed herself back onto her feet and focused on the vibrations within her body. The pellets dropping straight through her without hurting her. Iris smiled as she looked at Mardon. “You’re not the only one that’s learned new tricks Mardon.” She spun as the pellets continued to pound into the ground, bouncing up and away. Carving into the ground. Iris turned and started to run around Mardon, a vortex starting to form around him.

“You’re not the only one who can do that trick Flash!” Electricity flashed and sparked as he raised his Weather Wand into the air and began to spin it around in a wide circle, counter to the spin that Iris was doing. She groaned as the wind pushed back against her, thankful for the suit being at least somewhat aerodynamic. Lightning cracked all over the Badlands as the two vortexes fought with one another for supremacy. Iris could only hope that the weather was contained to the Badlands, and that it wasn’t affecting the city when she wasn’t there to prevent any major damage.

---

“Think about this very carefully.” Snart gave nothing away in his body language. Gun held in one hand, raised unwavering at the guard standing in front of the door deep within Iron Heights. Behind him Heatwave guarded the rear, a corridor of scorch marks marked their trail into the guts of the prison. Now they stood before what had to be the highest security door in the place, with only two minutes to go until the five minutes were up. After that Overdrive would leave, and they’d have no quick exit. “We’ve tore through this entire facility to get here. Now you’re all that stands between us and what we came here to get. I have a timetable to keep, open the door and you won’t get hurt. Mess with my timetable and you won’t be able to collect your paycheck next week.” The guard turned, hand shaking and placed his hand on the scanner. It flashed green before there was a loud buzz and the door opened.

Avoiding smiling Snart walked through the door, nodding at Heatwave who planted the butt of his gun against the guards head with a crack. There was a whooshing of running water as a tidal wave came towards him. Snart was unmoved as he raised his gun in the air in a sign of parlay, and his other hand in a gesture to stop. The tidal wave stopped inches in front of his nose before reforming into the shape of a man.

“Who are you?”

The Raft, New York

It had taken Johnny Storm and Rachna Koul the best part of thirteen hours to get to New York. They had driven through the night in a car that ‘Jim Hammond’ borrowed from Horton’s Auto-Parts with Phineas’ blessing. The old man seemed to be able to tell from the look in Johnny’s eyes that he wouldn’t be coming back. Once the dust had settled, Johnny would make sure to send some cash through to the old man for the kindness he’d showed him since showing up in Indiana. Though as Johnny and Rachna sat opposite the heavily-sedated Hector Hammond, it felt like it would be an awful long time before the dust had settled.

Hammond looked even lousier than he’d done when he showed up at the Baxter Building. Perhaps the power cosmic had temporarily invigorated Hammond’s old flesh, because now it looked to be almost falling from his bones. Hector looked like he was rotting. He smelled like he was rotting too. Koul and Johnny did their best to cover their disgust – if only because they might never have recovered if they’d succumb to it.

~I must say, your visit comes as something of a surprise.~

Johnny sneered. “Yeah, well, you and me both, egghead. If it were up to me, I’d have burned you alive for what you did to Guy and Ben.”

~But then what incentive would I have to keep your secret? I presume it is still a secret? I can’t imagine the public would take too kindly to the thought of interdimensional travellers crossing over into our world and assuming their counterpart’s identities. The world hasn’t changed that much since they put me in this place.~

The heft collar around Hammond’s neck dampened his powers to the point that he could only use his telepathy to communicate. For all intents and purposes, sat opposite them was a normal middle-aged man, albeit a grotesque one.

“You’re just as ugly on the inside as you are on the outside, aren’t you, Hammond?”

Hammond’s dewy eyes turned to Rachna. Though his limbs were lifeless and unmoving, there was something perverse in Hammond’s gaze. He looked Koul up and down and then eventually, once his skin-crawling assessment had come to an end, returned his gaze back to Johnny.

~Who is your lady friend, Jonathan?~

“I can speak for myself,” Rachna said with a click in Hammond’s direction. “My name is Professor Rachna Koul and I am nobody’s lady friend.”

Hammond’s expression flitted from revulsion and curiosity as he looked again to Rachna – though this time not Rachna the woman, but Rachna the scientist. Eventually, something resembling a wet, whistling sigh left Hector’s drool covered lips.

~A shame.~

Koul rolled her eyes at the statement and with an encouraging nod from Johnny steered the conversation towards its true purpose. “We’re here to talk to you about Franklin Storm.”

The mention of Franklin Storm’s name seemed to set Hammond into an instant rage. At least, the nearest to a rage that a man incapable of moving his limbs could manage. The sickly-looking veins on Hammond’s forehead began to throb angrily and spittled leapt from his mouth and down his chin. His bulging eyes became fixed on Johnny Storm.

~This is another one of his tricks, isn’t it? He’s sent you here to torment me. He wants to know what I know about him because he’s still out there. That Agent Gardner of yours was lying. Gardner helped him to pretend that he was dead.~

“This isn’t a trick,” Johnny said with a solemn shake of his head. “He’s really dead, Hammond. That’s why we’re here. We’ve recently come into some … information that suggests that maybe Franklin didn’t kill himself at all. We think he was murdered. Maybe even by people he trusted.”

Upon hearing the words leave Johnny’s mouth, Hammond’s rage seem to be punctured. For a second, he almost appeared to be saddened by it. His forehead drooped, his breath sharpened, and his gaze dropped to the ground as if reflecting upon a lost friend. As soon as the moment had arrived, it passed – and it became clear that the sharpening of Hammond’s breath was not sadness, but excitement. There was a caustic quality to his eyes that seemed to indicate that Hammond was laughing – or at least trying to.

~It would not surprise me. You see, beneath that carefully-maintained veneer there was a cruelty to Franklin. He was a man with many enemies – and a man that deserved each and every one of them.~

“That’s not true,” Koul shouted across the room at a volume so loud it made Johnny jump. “There wasn’t a cruel bone in Franklin’s body.”

Out of Hammond’s sight, Johnny slipped his hand to his side and gently touched Koul’s wrist. It wasn’t a romantic gesture. Far from it, in fact. Johnny was simply worried that Rachna would lose her cool and end up saying something that couldn’t be unsaid. Without turning her head, Koul subtly nodded by way of confirmation and Johnny returned his hand to his lap.

~Trust me, my girl, I have known Franklin Storm a lot longer than you.~

When Johnny spoke, he intentionally lowered his voice. “You said that Franklin had a lot of enemies. Who else wanted him dead, Hammond?”

Hammond seemed to clam up in response to the question. The quadriplegic’s body language was difficult enough to read in normal circumstances, almost entirely restricted to micro-expressions and tiny facial movements, but when Hector decided not to play ball it was almost impossible to read him. Worse still, Johnny noticed that the end of the fifteen minutes that Koul had wrangled with Hammond were nearing an end.

~Let’s just say that Franklin lost a lot of friends when he decided to climb into bed with SHIELD.~

Koul let on a frustrated sigh and ran her prosthetic hand through her silken hair. “What does that mean? Stop talking in riddles, Hammond.”

~Why should I tell you anything? What do I stand to gain? If Franklin was murdered, he was murdered – and I regret only that I was not the one that murdered him. You come here offering nothing and expect my cooperation in aid of a man that I despised? Have you no sense at all?~

There was the rub, Johnny thought to himself with a smile as his eyes met with Hammond. For all his talk of despising Franklin Storm, Hector’s opposition to helping them wasn’t principled at all – they just hadn’t brought enough to the table. It made him sick to his stomach to know that Guy had been beaten half to death, Ben’s face had been permanently scarred, and their way home had been destroyed by a man so wretched and insignificant.

Johnny swallowed his contempt for Hammond and asked the follow-up question the villain had so clearly sought. “What is it you want?”

~This body of mine is useless. My brilliant mind languishes in a prison of my own making within this prison with nought to entertain it. But you, Jonathan Storm, possess that which I covet most.~


There was shame in Hector Hammond’s eyes. His face said that knew that the request he was about to make of Johnny Storm was pitiable but he was going to make it all the same. Johnny cast a quick look up to the clock on the wall again as he waited for Hammond to claw together the gumption to make his demands. Both men seemed to sense that something untoward was coming. Yet whether Johnny liked it or not, Hammond held all the cards – and the super-villain seemed to very aware of that fact.

~Your memories. The feel of a woman’s touch, the sun’s warmth on your skin, of sand beneath your toes, and the way they look at you, the adoration they pour on you. I want it, Jonathan. I want to feel again, but not just any life, I want your life. That is the price of my cooperation.~

Johnny nodded and stood up from his seat. He was halfway across the cell when he felt Rachna’s hand pulling him back. “Johnny, no.”

“You want to be a hero, Hector? So be it,” Johnny said as he pulled his arm free. “I’ll give you what you want, but in return you give me everything you know about Franklin Storm. You so much as hold back a single thing and the next time you see me, I really will burn you alive.”

Johnny's hand pressed against Hammond's skull. His skin was sopping wet but cold to the touch. Johnny could feel the veins on the villain's head throbbing against his palms. It would have made a lesser man's stomach churn. Hammond seemed to cherish the physical contact. Johnny wondered how long it had been since he'd been touched. Not long enough he thought, as a breathless phrase left Hammond's lips.

~We have a bargain then.~

Hector Hammond's eyes rolled back in his head and suddenly both he and Johnny Storm began to convulse noisily. Johnny's limbs flailed about wildly and he seemed to be making noises that were more befitting beast than man. Koul watched on in terror through her fingers, sending a silent prayer to whichever deity would listen that in aiding her find Franklin's murderer, Johnny had not lost himself completely.

I stand outside of the Paramount Building, marveling at the gleaming white architecture rising in the middle of New York City like a obelisk. Of course, I also marvel at the force field surrounding the building, keeping me from getting inside and stopping Arcade once and for all.

"Knock, knock, Arcade!" I pound against the barrier closest to the front entrance of the tall building. "If you don't let me in I'll huff and puff and blow your house in!"

He probably never thought I'd be here, or at least not this quickly. For all I know he ran once he saw me moving this way. Still, I'm not sure I believe that. He's crazy, sure. He wants to be a mass murderer for sure. But he's also a showman. He believes in this stupid game he's constructed. If I beat him, he'll let me in.

At least I hope so. Otherwise I don't know how I'm going to save all those people right behind me.

"How did you find me, Spider?' Arcade's voice echoes above me. I look up to find another one of his drone faces floating above me, grimacing. "You're not cheating, are you? I hate when people cheat in Murderworld."

"Okay, first," I roll my eyes, "if I can cheat in a game called 'Murderworld', I'm totally gonna do it. But no, I didn't cheat. I just had someone lend me a strategy guide. You can't punish me for that one."

"No, I can't, but I can kill you," the drone face turns to a smile. "Come into my castle, Spider. I've prepared for you. There's absolutely no chance you'll ever leave...except in a body bag."

"Ugh," I grunt. "Just open the door, weirdo. I have people to save."

The force field in front of me dissolves away, giving me access to the building. Pushing my way through the rotating front door, I find the lights to be off on the inside. Once I pass completely into the building, the force field reforms behind me, trapping me inside.

Suddenly, the lights blare on, and screens hastily constructed in the lobby of the building spring to life. On them, dozens of visions of Arcade's face appear, laughing at me with a maniacally wild look in his eyes, "Welcome to the final level, Spider-Woman! I've been waiting for you, even if it isn't as long as I would have liked. Here, inside one of New York's architectural marvels, you will come face to face with one of my greatest challenges. It is here you will be required to clear floor after floor of my genius. Will you be able to do so? I doubt it, but let's find out!"

With that the screens flicker off and a doorway across the entryway from me illuminates, showing me the way forward. Not wanting to let Arcade off the hook that easily, I hop up to the ceiling and crawl towards the closest air vent, thinking that would be better than going wherever Arcade has planned. The great thing about these big old New York buildings is that the HVAC systems are these huge, sprawling caves in order to move the most amount of air they can. That's handy for getting around.

Unfortunately, when I touch the metal grate covering it, an electric shock shoots through my body. I feel my muscles spasm uncontrollably, and I lose my grip of the ceiling. I fall hard on the stone floor below, and groan, "Ugh. You have got to be kidding me."

"Uh, uh, uh, Spider-Woman," Arcade mocks me over the building's speakers. "No shortcuts this time. You'll go through my challenge, and you'll like it."

Damn. The bastard saw that one coming. I guess I can't get off that easily. I'm sure I already cut half of his stupid game out of my night. This much I'll have to do all of.

I go through the illuminated door, finding myself in a stairwell on the other side. Climbing up to another door with it's own, personal spotlight, I go through and find myself in a wide open, huge atrium. I can see more of his force fields re-configuring themselves above and around me, reaching up all the way to the top of the building. The path forward is clear. He wants me to climb to the top, through his newest maze of death and horribleness.

The gentle, sloping ramps up towards the ceiling continue, leading me up and up at a much slower rate than I would like. Every so often I have to hop over a gap or duck under an obstacle, but other than that I haven't seen anything even remotely resembling a challenge from Arcade.

"What do you have up your sleeves, you weirdo," I muse as I continue my climb.

That's when the first barrel comes screaming down the hole I'm about to climb up through.

My Spider Sense explodes with a warning, and I just manage to get out of the way of the bouncing barrel. It's made of the same energy the force fields are, so it bounces right off of them, losing none of its momentum. I feel its weight as it rushes past me and continues down towards the ground floor. It's followed by two more.

The last one clips my foot as I attempt to hop over it, sending me into a faceplant on the energy barrier below. Stars explode into my vision, and it takes me a moment to regain my wits. Just in time to get out of the way of another barrel. And that's when the realization hits me.

"Donkey Kong."

I'm in a gigantic, life-sized game of Donkey Kong, and I'm Mario. This is really way too weird. Even for me.

"Okay, Arcade," I snarl as I regain my footing and break off into a sprint. "Time to go Jump Man on your ass."

Once I realize what's going on, I start blowing through the obstacle course like a hot knife through butter. I go up, over, and under the barrels with ease. I may not be the best Donkey Kong player that's ever lived, but I can hold my own. Plus I don't need to cheat like Billy Mitchell, so at least I got that going for me.

Of course, once I'm halfway to the top, a red light draws my gaze towards where I've been. The platforms I've already come across are systematically turning red. That's definitely not something I remember happening in Donkey Kong. But I've played enough games to know what it does mean. Red means dead. If I touch one of those platforms, I'm probably gonna come out of the encounter worse for wear. And in this situation, I don't have another life to try again.

"You're doing quite well, Spider-Woman!" Arcade sounds annoyed. Good. "But will you be able to make it all the way to the top? Everyone in Times Square is holding their breath waiting for find out!"

"You are a sick bastard, you know that?" I shoot back at the villain as I hop over a gap, the platform behind me turning into a deadly one right before my eyes.

"I can't help myself when a good pun rears its head," Arcade titters. "But the button to let all of them go is right at the top, Spider-Woman! You're almost there! You'll almost be the hero you always hoped you'd be!"

All he does is mock me. All he does is play on my insecurities. I can feel the anger bubbling up inside me as I make my way up towards the top. But that's probably what Arcade wants. He wants to goad me into making a mistake by making me angry. It's the exact kind of thing Sensei has been warning me about. As I continue my climb, I begin breathing deeply, remembering my teacher's lessons. Arcade continues to taunt me, but as I center myself, his words become farther and farther away, almost as if he was falling into a large hole. I like that mental image.

A few more levels of platforming, and I reach the top. There, in front of me, is a big, red button. It's a bit obvious and cliched, sure, but I don't expect anything else from Arcade at this point.

As I approach, however, the level I'm on transforms into a huge arena, and the button is encased in force fields.

"Oh come on, man," I grumble as Arcade appears before me, clad in a mech suit that looks exactly like Donkey Kong. "You have got to be kidding me."

"I assure you, I am not!" he shows off his mechanical marvel. "I promised Murderworld viewers a final showdown, and a final showdown they shall get. What they won't get is a happy ending!"

He comes at me, but it's clear the suit he has isn't up to snuff compared to the other things he's thrown at me. He swings about wildly, trying to connect with his fists to no avail. He has a canon on one arm that fires the barrels at me, but at this point he's not going to hit me. It's clear to me now that he never intended for me to get this far. Cutting out whatever else he had planned has worked out to an incredible level, and now I'm gonna be able to save all those people.

I'm feeling good, but I still wouldn't mind teaching this maniac a lesson.

Landing on the canon arm, I rip apart the circuitry on the weapon. It begins to vibrate uncontrollably, and I see the panic in Arcade's eyes as he begins to eject. When the suit begins to open, I snag him out of it, and put distance between us and the mechanical suit. It shatters into a million pieces, and the force field around the button disappears. I press it, saving the trapped partiers before turning to Aracde.

"Game over, pal," I crack my knuckles. But as I do, Dragon's words once again come to me. Arcade is beat. There's no reason to beat down on him. Especially when it would be broadcast around the world thanks to his camera drones. But I can do something else to humiliate him. "Come on, we're going for a ride."



As the relieved partiers count down to the new year, many of them laugh as the squirming form of Arcade, now webbed to the Times Square Ball, drops with it.



The Next Day

"Gwen!" my dad's voice comes from down the hall. "Mary Jane is here to see you. Can I let her in."

All I want to do is sleep more, and I'm sure this is not going to be a fun conversation. But I definitely cannot deny MJ after running out of the party last night. I still don't exactly know what I'm going to say to her about why I left, but I'll figure that out on the fly. That's basically how I live my life now anyway.

"Sure, Dad, let her in."

My best friend comes in and takes a seat on the bed next to me, "You look like hell."

I chuckle nervously, "Thanks. Didn't sleep well."

A long, awkward pause forms between us, and I try to fill it, "Listen, I'm sorry about last night. I didn't want to bail like that. It's just that I like to be home for my dad on nights like th-"

"Gwen," MJ cuts me off. "It's okay. I get it."

I look at her confused, "Huh? You do?"

"Yea," she looks into my eyes with her deep, green ones. A smile forms across her freckled face, "You're Spider-Woman."

Staten Island, New York City

---

"Thank you, Colleen. Yeah, I'll let you know. Merry Christmas.

Daniel Rand lingered with the phone remaining on his ear for a few moments. The previous night had been wild. The two had managed to cripple the Golden Tigers severely. The most concerning part of the night, however, was the discovery of a cluster of Golden Tiger corpses. Colleen didn't know who could possibly do it... but Danny knew deep down who was responsible.

So when he heard the doorbell ring, he wasn't surprised to find Davos on the other side of the door. "I'm taking them down tonight. Are you in, brother?"

Danny hesitated in the doorway, gritting his teeth for a moment. After the pause of a few seconds, Danny gave a nod and opened the door wider, letting his close friend into his home. They had a long night ahead of them.

Chinatown, New York City

---

There were no signs of Christmas in the dimly lit warehouse Danny found himself in. His hands were wrapped in chains behind his back, and was forced to his knees. His face was bloated and bruised from the beating he had endured, and Davos looked similar. Both of them had been unmasked, and now disabled as they were forced to kneel before a man lounging in a large chair in this rather empty room. He was covered in tattoos, and was wearing a fur coat while lacking a shirt. Several of his teeth were now golden, a sign of poor dental hygiene at the very least. He gave a small smile. "It would take more than one punk to take down my men. So there are two 'Iron Fists.' Fascinating. No matter."

Almost on command, a few Golden Tigers were dragging in a resisting prisoner. It was a police officer, seemingly a rookie judging by his youthful appearance. He was gagged and bound, tossed to the ground at the feet of the leader of the Golden Tigers. Danny took the time to look at Davos. "Once out, we disar-"

"No. We slaughter him."

"That's not the way of-"

"The way of the Iron Fist? You know nothing of the Iron Fist. You have proven that much."

"If we kill him, we're no better. We need to be better than they are."

"So you suggest we do nothing? Let these scum continue their actions? Nothing will come of nothing."

"Strike them. It seems they know not their position."

A few Golden Tigers moved closer to Danny and Davos, delivering swift blows to their faces. Chaka, in the meantime, grabbed the police officer by the collar and dragged him closer to Daniel Rand. He flashed his golden teeth briefly, squatting down next to his enemy. He placed his fingers upon the fleshy neck of the police officer. Almost instantly, the officer's skin began to gray, and he choked for life as if it was being pulled from him. Yet... Chaka was doing nothing more than lightly touching his skin. It took only seconds until all the life was gone from the officer, and he slumped next to Daniel Rand. Chaka got up, kicking aside the corpse as he went around behind Danny and Davos. "Well... I showed you mine. Show me yours, if what they say about you is true."

Danny looked towards Davos, then back to the ground. His right hand clenched into a fist around a small bit of chain before glowing. Almost instantly, the chain snapped, and chaos broke out. Chaka immediately began swinging with his fists towards Danny, who was doing his best to both free his arms and dodge any wild swings from his opponent. The few Golden Tigers nearby began to crowd Danny. Davos cracked his left arm, managing to get his left shoulder out of socket enough to slacken the chains and free his hands.

Danny had just managed to free his hands to swing his Iron Fist towards Chaka. It was anticipated, though, and the leader of the Golden Tigers managed to clasp his hand about Daniel Rand's wrist. The skin began to gray momentarily, before returning to its original color. The golden light of the fist began to fade instead. Davos was able to spring into action, rushing up to two of the Tigers and taking their extra knives, slitting their throats in a fluid motion before flinging the dagger in Chaka's direction. The villain was forced to spin about to dodge the attack, and Davos moved in to kill the other Tigers. Daniel grimaced at Davos' actions, but had little pause before having to face off against Chaka again.

Blow was met with block, and block with blow. Chaka, Danny, and then Davos all traded their martial arts prowess and skill. Davos and Danny were admittedly more than a match for even the leader of the Golden Tigers. They seemed to be holding back in part, not knowing what their partner would do. Finally, Danny went to make his move, his fist lighting up and moving towards Chaka's right leg. Upon impact, the sickening crack forced the villain down to his knee as he shrieked in pain. Davos took this as his time to strike. Almost unceremoniously, the dagger struck Chaka between the eyes, parting flesh and bone like butter.

Danny had been late in stopping Davos. His left hand failed to catch Davos' hand, only grasping it as the dagger was already in Chaka's head. Davos simply shook his friend's clasp, beginning to walk towards the exit where the sounds of shuffling feet were drawing near. Daniel looked down at his best friend's... no... brother's work. He slowly rose to his feet, looking at Davos. "No... no... I thought you were better than this."

Davos turned slightly, the rougish smile of the two boys' childhood returning to his lips. "I expected more of you, brother. You've proven you are no Iron Fist. So my service to you has ended. Enjoy your life of opulence... I have work to do."

---

---

---

---

Snart didn’t flinch as Morris Bench came right at him as a tidal wave, stopping right on front of his face. Water sprayed into his face as he spat the question at him. “Who are you?”

Snart wiped the water from his chin with a snarl plastered across his face. “The names Captain Cold. That’s Heatwave-” Snart pointed at his compatriot over his shoulder before raising his index finger and stabbing it straight into where the man's chest should be. “-You are Hydro-man and we hear you have a score to settle with the Scarlet Speedstress.” The man formed back into a form where he looked more like an actual man instead of a massive walking puddle. “How’d you like a job?”

“I’m listening.”

---

Should anyone have tried to determine what was going on out in the Badlands they would have likely become confused and disorientated. Lightning flashed as two vortices formed, crashing into one another. Rain pummelled the dried out dirt, while it was firm to begin with it started to turn to sludge. For most people it would have made the ground slippery, or even sticky. That was no problem however for Iris West. The Flash. As her feet came into contact with the ground, before they could even begin to sink they were gone again. The power of her speed flowing through her, every limb was electrified.

The wind roared, she couldn’t hear anything besides it, her heartbeat and her own breathe. The problem was that this wasn’t working, as the vortex she formed and the one[color=#6aa84f] [i]Weather Wizard [/color][/i]formed collided with one another she could feel hers begin to lose its momentum. She was faster than Mardon, far faster. This however was his playing field, and while what she was doing could have blown anyone else away all it was doing in this particular fight was prolonging it. Deciding to change tactics she turned tighter, jumping into the air using her own vortex to push her on and out. Straight through the one formed by Mardon, her fist extended in an attempt to catch him right in the jaw.

As Iris broke through his vortex however, Iris was just faced with a dense fog. The sound of the roaring wind dissipated and she swore under her breath. She had become so engrossed in what she was doing, so focused on trying to outplay Mardon at his own game that he had escaped right from underneath her. Tapping her earpiece to speak to Jay - “Jay, I’ve lost him. I’m coming in.”

The words roll over me again and again as I stare blankly back at Mary Jane. She knows. How does she know? I've been so careful. Okay...so maybe I haven't been all that careful. Repeatedly ducking out of hangouts, mysterious no shows, and being late to both band practices and gigs definitely do not help with the whole secret identity thing. But I never thought in a million years she'd figure it out.

"I take it from the stunned silence I'm right?" she smiles mischeviously. "God, I am just the best."

I bury my face in my hands and rub my eyes before looking back up at her, "Yea, you're right. I'm Spider-Woman. But how did you-"

She rolls her eyes, "Please, Gwendolyn. I've known you far too long. While you may never have been strictly on the ball, you've never been this far off of it. I didn't know why that was. Maybe you were just going through something. When we had our fight I sat and thought about it a lot. And then when you ducked out of the party right after some crazy guy threatened people on TV, I kind of put two and two together."

God it all makes way too much sense, and it was way too easy for her to figure it out. What if more people are catching on to me? That would not be good.

"I just...I'm sorry I kept it from you," I admit. "But dressing up and fighting bad guys is a dangerous gig. I didn't want to get anyone else involved."

"Anyone else other than Peter, you mean," she raises her eyebrows at me. "He left a minute or two after you did. Said he just couldn't sit at the party knowing you left by yourself. So I figure he knows too."

My shoulders slump, defeated, "Yea. Him and my Dad. The reason Dad got kicked off the metahuman force is because I revealed myself to him the night Black Tarantula took over the hospital. It's why he couldn't arrest Spider-Woman."

"Wow," she gasps as the info is absorbed. After a few moments she put her hand on mine, "I get why you thought you had to keep this from me. I really do. But I'm not a damsel in distress that needs protection. I can handle myself."

Chucking, I wrap her in a big hug, "MJ, I love you, but there's no way you could handle yourself against a supervillain. Just would not happen."

"Give me those webshooters and let's see about that," she grins broadly. "I bet I could take them down quicker than you could."

The two of us laugh together, and it feels right. This fight, only a little longer than a week old, is our longest. Peter, MJ, Harry, and I have been nearly inseprable since we became friends. This moment is a reminder why. I have the best friends. They are my strength. They're the reason I can do what I can do.

And now I have another one in the loop.

"Listen...considering Harry's dad is trying to kill me," I start, realizing the Osborns definitely cannot learn my secret identity.

"Don't worry, I won't tell him," she rubs her arms. "I think we may have to break up, anyway. After I figured everything out last night, I sat back and watched him. Every time one of the Goblins was destroyed in your fight, he would flip out. It's like he wanted you to lose, to let those people die, all because his dad's project was on the other side of you. It's just...uncomfortable."

"Don't break up with him," I shake my head. "The two of you are good together. Just help him see that maybe Spider-Woman is goo for the world. Help him see the light and all that kind of stuff. I dunno."

"I'll try," she nods. "I just hope he isn't too far gone."



"You did well," Richard Dragon's words or praise catch me off guard as I enter the dojo. "You could have taken down that maniac with much more anger. But you were controlled. You showed why you are a hero to everyone watching. I can't say I approve of taunting the man after you beat him, but you have your own sense of style to perfect."

I recoil in mock shock, "My god! Who are you and what have you done with Richard Dragon!?"

"Funny. Very funny," he sighs.

"So you watched me on TV last night, huh?" I poke the bear. "I didn't think you were the TV type."

"Just because I'm older than you doesn't mean I don't like to be entertained, student," Dragon shoots back, a wicked look in his eye. "You young people all think the same."

"Yea, and I bet you had to walk to school in the snow, uphill both ways, when you were my age," I shoot back.

"That's not funny."

"Oh come on it's a little funny."

He ignores me and motions for me to join him in the training room. When I enter, I find that it's not setup for our usual meditative exercise. No, this time it looks like I'me actually going to get to do some fighting.

"Don't get too excited," the sensei warns. "you've shown you can control your emotions in a fight that you are winning, but can you control them in one you are losing?"

"What's that now?" I ask in confusion.

"I will attack you," he shrugs. "You will not attack me back. You can dodge all you want, but you cannot attack back."

This sounds like it's going to be terrible.



"You put him through a wall?" Peter asks with surprise. "So I take it you failed today?"

The frustration of today's exercise has subsided, but the bruises haven't. I've got like three ice packs covering bruised areas from today's training. Dragon gave me everything he had. Well, at least I think he did. He could still be holding back. I dealt with it as long as I could before losing my cool and tossing him through a wall. I helped him fix it afterward, but he was definitely not happy about it.

"Yea, it definitely did not go over well," I groan. "Luckily he didn't kick me out permanently after destroying the place where he lives."

Honestly, he told me he never thought I'd make it as long as I did, so at least I have that going for me. Maybe his training is doing me good.

"So what's the plan for tonight?" he asks.

"Movies, popcorn, and relaxation," I respond, satisfied not to move for the rest of the night. Or the weekend. Or the year.



"My dear," Otto Octavius snakes his way up to the catwalks of their warehouse on his mechanical arms, up to where Felicia Hardy had constructed her den. "I was wondering if you could do me a favor."

"Sure thing, Doc," she smiles at her benefactor. "What's up?"

"Tomorrow night there will be a shipment of drugs coming into the city. Raw material for our miracle drug," the doctor smiled under the goggles he wore. "I need you and Marko to steal it."

"Doc, that's what I'm best at," Hardy smiles like the cat that caught the canary.