Chrissy screamed from her holding cell. Bathed in blackness, she pounded against the oaken door. Clawing and scraping at the wood, fingernails ripped in the process. Blood oozed from their tips; however, it wasn’t only blood.
Norman Osborn viewed hidden cameras from outside her captivity chamber. Most of his lab had been disassembled and loaded onto a private jet. Even the cryocapsule had been removed from the vat and plugged into the jet’s power supply. The cauldron could not be dismantled, but another waited in New York.
Growing restless, he glanced at his watch. I’ll give five more minutes before I gas her back to sleep and take her to the plane. Finally, he saw the sign that he had been waiting for. A maniacal laugh accompanied his smile.
Chrissy’s mind wandered to her recent research on Carnage. Her heart swooned as bloodlust rippled through her. Spikes of hardened symbiote formed claws at the ends of her hands. Chaos! Death! Blood! She rent chunks out of the security door with several swings. Two slashes later, it splintered.
Light seeped into the prison. The amalgam of Chrissy and the symbiote shrunk back from its glow. Moments before the blast obliterated the Vault during the Villain Massacre, a bright light had ignited the sky. Cautious of a repeat, Chrissy/Carnage huddled in a corner. No reason had returned to its thoughts. It just knew that it was once more free.
With no explosion, the creature crept through the opening. Dark crimson flowed over its body. A lone man stood before her/it, smiling. Rows of fangs curled up into a grin on the symbiote’s head. It sensed an affinity, a connection that it did not wish to break, but that recognition came from another part.
Chrissy struggled and broke the symbiote’s psychic merging. The living costume sucked back into her pores. Drained, she dropped to her knees, looking up at the man.
“Norman,” she whispered. “Help me.”
“I’ll help you,” he raved. “To an early grave.”
Chrissy tilted her head in shock.
“Don’t be a fool! Who do you think brought you here, infected you with that creature? You’re a pawn in my game of vengeance. Your parents will die like slaughtered pigs. And you will help!”
“I’ll be damned.”
Chrissy lunged. Liquid crimson coated her body, sharpened spikes reforming on her fingers. She still had some control and with it planned to eliminate Osborn.
“I had hoped for something like this from a Parker!”
A sonic burst discharged from Norman’s gloved hand. The blast caught Chrissy in mid-leap, sending the symbiote retreating back inside. She slumped to the floor. Norman picked her up and carried her to the roof. His private chopper flew them to his jet bound for the Big Apple.
#
Peter swung the Lexus back in front of the house. He bolted for the front door, ran inside, and snatched his new Bluetooth com-unit from the coffee table. He and MJ were so frazzled they had forgot it. A blinking light from the flat panel attracted his attention. I pray it’s Chrissy.
“Retrieve message,” he ordered the inanimate machine.
Liz Allen flared across the screen. Worry lined her face.
“I had to warn you,” she said. “After talking last night, I had Harry’s body exhumed. The casket was filled with genetic muck! Human tissue with Harry’s DNA! It looked like a blob of tangled skin and bones. I’m afraid, guys. Please call.”
“My God,” Peter mumbled. Some type of cellular acceleration, as if it were grown to certain maturity and then after lying dormant, started to grow again.
At the car, he updated Mary Jane. She shuddered. Peter drove faster than usual to the airport.
#
In the jet, Norman kept a close eye on Chrissy. She was strapped to a seat emitting low frequency sonics, not enough to harm, but enough to keep the symbiote inside, where it could continue to bond and dominate. The cryocapsule was harnessed to the rear wall. Norman popped the hinge. Submersion in the solution had hastened the process. 19 degrees. Complete thawing in 10.2 hours.
He savored the plans that lay ahead. After viewing Peter’s call to Richard, he had contacted an associate in Chicago to capture that branch of the Parkers. Richard, Amanda, and Emily were already in transit to New York. When Peter and Mary Jane met Carl’s friend, Norman had a surprise of his own.
#
The flight to New York seemed to take forever. After retrieving their luggage, Peter went to the nearest restroom with MJ’s suitcase. Locking himself in a stall, he took the box designed to hold old-fashioned hair curlers. If inspected, they appeared to be just that. Inside their hollow sleeves, Peter had hid web fluid. Transportation of a chemical substance other than cosmetics was forbidden without prior approval. Taking two vials, he next withdrew a small bag where Mary Jane stored her jewelry. Under a peripheral inspection, his web-shooters appeared as cheap bracelets. He strapped them around his wrists and pivoted the release buttons from his palms to under his sleeves. He flushed the toilet and joined Mary Jane.
A man dressed in a tuxedo held a sign – Parker. Peter and MJ identified themselves.
“Carl told me to take you to the next stop,” he informed.
“Where might that be?” Peter inquired, wary of deception.
The man shook his head. “We may be under surveillance. You’ll see soon enough.”
He offered to carry their luggage, but Peter declined. They followed outside to a waiting limo. He opened up the rear door and Mary Jane bent to enter. Peter felt a slight buzzing in his head. He grabbed MJ’s arm and yanked her back, nearly dislocating her shoulder.
“Ow!” she cried. “What are you doing?”
“We’re being set up.”
“What?”
“Trust me.” Peter glared at the chauffeur.
A stunned look crossed the man’s face. “Mr. Parker, I have no idea…” A zap sounded and he fell forward. The back of his jacket singed with burnt fabric.
An eerie laugh escaped the rear of the limo. Peter shielded Mary Jane. Smog seeped from the open door, thickening around them. Peter heard a whoosh and pulled Mary Jane to the ground. A dark object flew through the mist, barely missing them. Without realizing, Peter had ripped his shirt off and was halfway down with his pants. The mist began to clear just as he tugged the mask over his face.
He leapt to his feet and looked around – no Green Goblin. A crowd stared in awe. All they saw was a dead man on the pavement and Spider-Man towering over a red-haired woman. Screams erupted at once. Travelers feared that the masked menace was going to, or already had, sabotaged another plane.
Security reacted quicker in New York than Virginia, guards already racing towards them. Spider-Man fired a burst of webbing to slow them. Two body builders came to the red head’s apparent aid. One yanked her out from under Spider-Man while the other lunged from the side.
Spidey was so concentrated on the guards that he didn’t see his attacker. A large man pounded his skull and swung again. Spider-Man leapt up and adhered to the wall of the airport’s entrance. Shaking the cobwebs from his head, he found MJ being carted away through the crowd. Her savior didn’t seem to hear her protests.
Spider-Man sensed the guard just as a shock bolt blasted his way. Dodging, he fired his webbing, clogging the weapon’s barrel. Dashing along the wall, he pursued Mary Jane. He had no way of knowing if Mr. Muscles was trying to protect her or if he was in league with the goblin. Spider-Man wasn’t taking any chances. He dove, landing in front of the fleeing figure. Protectively he slid Mary Jane behind him and swung a fist. Spidey sidestepped it.
“You won’t take her!” Mr. Muscles shouted.
“C’mon! He needs our help!” a guy from the crowd yelled. “We can stop him. This isn’t Virginia!” Several more spectators charged.
Great! They think I’m harassing MJ and want to blow up the airport. I can’t hurt them. They’re just sticking up for themselves. As he dodged another punch, he discharged webbing at his opponent’s feet, sticking them to the ground. He wrapped his arm around Mary Jane’s waist when tuxedoed man burst through the crowd. Instinctively, Spider-Man shot another glob at his feet.
“Carl thought something like this might happen!” the man yelled. “He planned a contingency. Go to the west end of the parking lot. Get in the limousine with the open sunroof. Hurry!”
“What?” Peter responded, trying to gauge the man’s sincerity with his spider sense.
“No time to explain. Go before security stops you.”
Not knowing whether to believe him or not, Spider-Man carried MJ up the side of the building and ran its full length. At the end, he dropped to the ground and sprinted across the parking lot.
“Do you trust him?” Mary Jane asked, clutching around his neck.
“I don’t have much of a choice,” he panted. “We’re caught if he’s lying.”
Passers-by cringed in horror as Spider-Man raced by them. Sirens squealed from the security cars in pursuit.
At the corner of the lot, seven limos roared to life. Spider-Man leapt twenty feet into the air. MJ gasped, but realized that it was to see which roof was open. After touching down, he jumped up again and slipped through the roof of the middle car. Simultaneously, all seven cars darted in different directions. The top snapped shut.
“What the hell’s going on?” Spider-Man stuck his head through the hole leading to the driver, a dark-haired woman.
“Everything’s okay, Mr. and Mrs. Parker,” she said, glancing into the rearview mirror.
“You know?” he asked, worried about how many others knew his identity.
The driver heard the uneasiness in his voice. “Not many know your secret, only a select few. We’re used to situations like this.”
“And just who are you that you know?” Mary Jane demanded.
“I organized this whole escape. My name’s Veronica, Carl’s sister.”
“Nice to meet you.” Peter removed his mask and extended his hand.
“Like wise.” Veronica shook it quickly. “Now sit back and enjoy the ride. We’re not out of this yet.”
Peter sat down next to Mary Jane. “Are you all right?”
“Just a little frightened. Was that Harry back there?”
“I don’t know. It’s just…”
“There’s one on your tail,” a radio crackled.
“I see it,” Veronica responded, swerving through an intersection. Traffic was blocked. She veered into an alley with the security car in hot pursuit. “Damn! I need support!” she shouted. “Quick!”
“A2 and A3 were pulled over and I can’t get to you!” a voice replied. “You’ll have to do some fancy maneuvering.”
Peter remasked. “Open the roof!” Veronica glanced back then hit the release button. “Slow down,” he said.
“What? Slow down?”
“Just do it.”
Veronica eased off the accelerator as Spider-Man crouched beneath the open roof. The pursuit vehicle approached. As it neared the bumper, Spider-Man stuck the upper half of his torso out the roof and squirted a gloppy mess onto its windshield. The car locked its brakes and skidded to a halt.
“Yes!” Veronica shouted. “Smooth sailing. Thank you.”
“Anything to repay you for helping us.”
“Nothing I can do can repay for what you did for my mother.” Slowly, she re-entered traffic and flicked a button on the dash. Gears turned.
“What’s that?” Spider-Man asked.
“It’s the legal license plate being lowered. When we picked you up, fakes were in place.”
“What did you mean that you’re used to this?” MJ stressed, concerned by the people with which her daughter associated.
“Well, we help all types of people out of binds, especially those against deregulation. We may break an occasional law, but we do what is right. The world needs heroes. We just want them to come back and clean up the mess.”
“Is it really that bad here?” MJ asked.
“Since deregulation started, it’s been worse. Petty crime has been on the rise. Without superheroes to stop them, criminals are much braver, more brazen. There are too many for the police to handle.”
“Oh no,” Spider-Man mumbled. “I just realized. We left all our stuff at the airport. No clothes or extra web fluid.”
“Taken care off,” Veronica assured.
She pulled down a perpendicular street. A garage door stood ajar on the side of a building. Veronica drove into it and the door slid shut. Spider-Man and Mary Jane clambered into a concrete room large enough for four limousines. A passage led straight away and another stood off to the left.
“Welcome to Safehouse,” Veronica introduced. “Where confidentiality is our best attribute. Let me take you to your room.”
They followed her left to a rickety staircase. At the top, a hall separated into three directions. Going straight, Veronica opened the third door. “This is our pirating station.”
Computers, mini-satellite dishes, and other instruments filled a wide counter running the length of the room. A large cylinder contained hundreds of datcards, recording conversations around the globe. Spider-Man stared at the equipment and shook his head. He had always heard of operations like this, but this was the first that he had ever seen one.
Down the hallway, Veronica opened another door. It was a closet with shelves holding various electrical components. On a tuner on the middle shelf, she punched in the call letters of a far-off radio station. Instead of music, the back of the closet slid away. “This is the only way to bring you without running into anyone else. The people who know I picked up Spider-Man don’t even know where this place is. Those here do not know you’re Spider-Man.”
A ladder in the hidden nook led to a trapdoor in the ceiling. Veronica climbed up. She pushed up the trap and wriggled through. Spider-Man crawled up next and then pulled up Mary Jane. While he reset the trapdoor, Veronica flicked a light switch.
“I hope you like it.”
An elegant bedroom sprang to life around them – king-sized bed, cherry furniture, private bathroom, enormous flat panel. A bay window overlooked the front street. A side window opened into a darkened side-street.
“For your comings and goings,” Veronica spoke to Spider-Man, pointing to the alley. “Mary Anna and Carl should be here in a few hours, your luggage in a few minutes. I’ll give you a chance to relax and change before showing you the rest of our establishment.”
“Are all your quarters as nice as this?” Mary Jane asked, amazed by the accommodations.
“Only those reserved for our best contributors.”
“I only wish I was still the best.” Spider-Man frowned under his mask. “Then your partner wouldn’t have been killed back at the airport.”
“He knew the risks,” Veronica assured. “We all do. We vowed to fight against the tyranny of this country. All of us would gladly give our lives. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
As she left, Spider-Man slipped off his mask and eased onto the bed. Mary Jane sat next to him and asked, “What are we going to do?”
“Whatever it takes to protect our children. I can’t believe Harry’s alive and coming for me after all these years. Maybe it’s like the Hobgoblin. Somebody may have just come across one of the goblin’s old lairs.”
“I don’t know,” MJ responded. “Most of the city’s been renovated and the sewers redesigned. Don’t you think that if there were more hideouts, they’d have been uncovered years ago?”
“I know what you’re saying. I just don’t want to even consider that this might be Harry. If it’s not him, what happened to his body?”
Mary Jane shrugged as a knock sounded from the door. “Who’s there?”
“Veronica. I have your bags.”
“Come in!” Peter stepped towards the entrance.
Veronica set their luggage inside the door. “I’ll be back in an hour to take you to eat.”
Peter flipped the suitcases open. He was relieved to find everything there, even the clothes he had dropped upon transforming into Spider-Man.
“I need to take a quick shower,” he said, shedding his tights.
He lost himself in the pulsating water, hoping that he could take care of the goblin as quickly as the water took care of his perspiration. He wasn’t surprised to feel fingers massage into his trapezius as MJ joined him.
#
The thermometer attached to the cryotube beeped at the far end of the bedroom. Norman Osborn leapt from his seat and punched in an access code. Cold steam whooshed into the air as hydraulic pistons pushed the seal out and up.
A frail figure fell from the capsule. Norman caught him. The man was shivering. He tried to speak, but gurgled. The freezing process left its occupants blind and suffering from severe hypothermia. But at least he’s alive. Norman led him to the bed and tucked him under thick blankets. The man curled into a fetal position and fell instantly asleep. Norman sat in a chair next to him, staring at the raised sheets. Planning. Plotting.
Locked in one of the basement’s featureless cells, Chrissy was rendered unconscious by a gaseous chemical. Inside her, the symbiote expanded its rein, strengthening its hold. It bombarded her mind with visions of slaughter. Massacred victims dotted the landscape. Ever slowly, her psyche was losing, giving into the malicious desire of bloodshed.
#
As Peter turned on the flat panel, he was not surprised to learn that he was wanted for murder and kidnapping a famous movie star. Somebody had recognized MJ.
“Now I can’t even show myself in public,” she said. “We need more help. Super-powered help.”
As if on cue, the scene on TV shifted to the Super Power Commission in England. The lines were sharply divided. Steve Rogers had donned his Captain America garb and pressured the commission to disband and allow heroes back into the world. Former Avengers Hawkeye and the Black Widow flanked him, though neither was in any condition to join the superhero ranks. Several other non-powered individuals sided with him. Businessman Robert Billingsley led the opposition. Nearly two thirds of the required majority for any vote was on his side.
“I can’t call Steve again,” Peter realized. “He’s trying to help in his own way, even with the odds stacked against him.”
“Remember, honey,” MJ comforted. “Captain America performs the best when the odds are against him.”
A knock sounded at the door. Peter looked at his watch. “Right on time,” he said. “I’m starving.”
“Then you’ll have to wait a few minutes longer.”
Mary Anna and Carl swung the door open. MJ dashed to her daughter and hugged her. Tears streamed down both women’s cheeks.
Carl offered his hand to Peter. “I’m finally able to repay you. All of this is for what you did for my mother. Kind of like your legacy.”
Peter gripped his hand firmly. “I just hope that after this ordeal is over, you’ll still have faith in me.”
“I have faith that I will,” he assured.
Mary Anna broke her mother’s embrace and wrapped her arms around her father. “I never told you about my involvement with Carl’s group. I thought that you would be mad.”
“I’m not angry, Mary Anna,” he choked, tears welling in his eyes. “I’m so very proud of you.” She kissed his cheek and pulled away. “Let’s eat. I remembered the Chinese take-out joint you and Mom used to like. Well, they’re still around and I ordered your favorites.”
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On to Chapter 6
Not Yet Published (but I am trying) 