Spider-Man SI

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***

The next morning. 315 West 315th Street. Manhattan. New York City.

- Your belt. - I'm throwing Poole a teleportation device. - Thank you so much for loaning it to me.

- Oh, my goodness! - the mercenary almost licks it.

The old belt takes its rightful place. The new one, made in the shape of a big heart studded with rhinestones, flies off into the distance. Hell, I don't even want to know which girl he took it from!

- I've been doing a bit of tinkering with it with my mates. Now it won't be so easy to drain the batteries. Plus, we calibrated the accuracy a little bit, improved the range a little bit, that sort of thing.

We've been working on this belt all night. A teleport in a belt buckle can't be a simple thing. It was a difficult task, but it took three of the stupidest people on this planet to solve it. Yes, yes, Stark was interested as soon as he saw the new technology. Dr Otto Octavius, couldn't ignore Tony and me for long. Putting aside his moping, he joined us.

It was more fun than when I was trying to figure out the teleport myself. We took it apart to the last possible screw, and then put it back together again. Anything that couldn't be taken apart was subjected to rigorous analyses and all possible tests. From spectral analysis, to almost decoding DNA! There was still a lot of work to be done, in recreating the theoretical basis according to which the teleporter was designed. But for this purpose, the prototype device was no longer, in fact, needed. All the information about it had already been received, it remained only to analyse it, and on this basis to build their own samples.

As for the technical characteristics. The work of the teleport depended on two main factors. The energy reserve, and the weight of the object being transported. I think the dependencies are clear. Ideally, more of the former, less of the latter. The control of the device was also simple, but it could not boast a special set of settings. In fact, you could only set the vector of the jump direction and its length. It was impossible to move to the other side of the globe, but it was easy to move almost a kilometre.

All other functions were not subject to manual adjustment and were set by default. So, for example, when transferring the user appeared in a dozen centimetres from the surface of the floor, not on the ground itself.

Shit!

Whoever created this teleportation device was an unrealistic genius after all! It wasn't anything incredibly cool, no technology ahead of its time! Stark, Octavius, and dozens, if not hundreds of smart people of our world with a big name could have thought of such a device. But for some reason such a device was created by an unknown person. If I understand correctly, it is a prototype, existing in a single copy. Probably, the author of this masterpiece is no longer alive....

- Really?

- Yeah, here's another one. - I'm throwing Poole a pack of batteries. - Just so you have a supply on you, just in case.

- Wow! Wow!

The power cell in the teleport was unusual too. But not so unusual as to be impressive. To be honest, this 'battery' was a fun thing, but it was the weakest link in the whole device. Its power was enough for one 'jump', and then... just barely. Well, at least that's it. Ordinary, standard power sources couldn't even do that. But Stark, as it turned out, had something suitable. From a long-standing, unsuccessful development. Commercially unsuccessful, I might add. The tiny power source he'd created a few years ago was too cool to be a battery. It could sustain life in small digital devices for years, if not decades. It simply wasn't profitable to sell such things.

Anyway, the work-in-progress was taken out of the archives, slightly reworked to the right size, and released in small batches. It's pretty much the only thing I could do to thank Deadpool on such short notice.

- If you need more batteries, or any other unusual tech, get in touch.

Still, I felt a little guilty for the mercenary. It was as if I took a candy from a child, bit off most of it, and returned the rest. After all, these good batteries can't be compared to a cold nuclear fusion reactor. Yeah, now that I had the equivalent technology in my hands, I could talk to Stark on equal terms. He couldn't help but realise the benefits of teleportation. He needed that technology. And I needed a reactor. So we agreed, and we were satisfied with each other. With the reactor, the teleport's efficiency increased manifold. If with improved batteries, it was possible to make two or three jumps to the maximum distance, then with the reactor two or three dozen! And this is if you jump continuously, going to merciless wear and tear of the reactor. If you teleport at intervals, even more! True, the Iron Man suit weighed a lot, thus slightly reducing the average number, and limiting the range, but it is not so critical.

- Can you unblock the porn channels on the TV? - Poole asked hopefully.

- Erm... no, I guess I can't do that.

- That's too bad.

- Tell me, did you track down that drone? - I'm changing the subject.

- Drone? Oh! That flying bucket!?

- Yeah, that's the one.

- No! It got away! - replied the mercenary, with such misplaced joy in his voice that I shuddered.

- That's too bad. - although it was to be expected.

- I was upset at first, too. - the mercenary admitted. - But then, while snooping around, I came across..... Ah, bro! You need to see it for yourself! Come on, I'll show you!

Deadpool disappeared out the door. I rubbed my temples for prevention and followed.

We met at the most unpresentable spot on West 315th Street in Manhattan. On the roof of an old brick building. It looked like a hotel, well, at least that's what the place was officially called. Hotel Brazil. But by its shabby appearance, and by the general atmosphere, it looked more like a den for crooks, petty criminals, prostitutes and the like. The funny thing was that just fifty metres away were luxurious office buildings, fancy restaurants, and shopping malls! But if you went a few metres away from the centre, you would find yourself in a real slum.

Pulling open the rusty metal door, I stepped inside the building. The chatty mercenary was already out of sight, but I navigated perfectly by ear. Poole was whistling a simple tune. I went down a few floors and stepped out of the stairwell into a semi-dark corridor.

- Hurry up, bro! - the guy hurried me, disappearing round the corner.

The place smelled of tobacco smoke, damp and mould. And dozens of other odours that were less pleasant to describe. So I really quickened my step, trying to minimise my stay in this place. The thought even flashed through my mind to turn around and leave. I felt that what Poole wanted to show me would only add to my headache. But I was still interested.

Hmm.

I stopped.

The smells here were so unpleasant, I tried to just filter them out. It wasn't working. As if as punishment, I could smell them all with incredible sharpness. But even amidst all this cacophony, one scent stood out. The pungent scent of fresh blood.

Taking two steps back, I gently pushed open the door from which the smell was coming. It was unlocked. In a small room, on the floor near the bed in a pool of blood lay a man. Next to the corpse, also on the floor, sat a girl. With dark hair, dark lipstick around her lips, and shadow under her eyes. Half-naked, in just her panties and an undone lace bra. Small, thin. Teenager. I doubt she'd be 16.

Bloody hands. Face was completely expressionless. I looked at the hands. No, doesn't look like drugs. But there's absolutely nothing emotionally. Though no... a question, an interest, a slight misunderstanding... but it's all so... um, sluggish, barely perceptible.

- Hello. - she said.

- Hi... how are you?

- I'm fine. - the girl replied in a completely calm tone.

- I see... - I squeezed out of myself, - don't stay here too long. Someone might have already called the cops.

- Okay.

I closed the door and walked on, trying to get the strange conversation out of my head.

Not my problem.

What am I, the last one to get in the middle of everything? What the fuck do I care?! So what if she's a teenager? She doesn't seem to be stressed out about it. Then she'll figure it out. That guy's got claws all over his back. Looks like a hardcore sex addict. Maybe their game with the girl today went too far. That's all. People need to use their heads sometimes and realise what dangerous hobbies can lead to.

- Well, where are you?

- I'm coming, I'm coming. - I mumble absent-mindedly. Despite my self-hypnosis, the soul zen was in no hurry to catch up with me. - What's going on? - I ask, going into the room to the mercenary.

- Here, look! - Poole almost squeals with joy. - А?! What a style! What style! And the colour, and the colour!

- Oh...' I sigh heavily, covering my eyes for a second.

'Bro' shoves a red leather outfit practically under my nose. No, no, no. It's not latex. It seems... though you'd expect it to be. Trousers and a jacket. Very familiar, I'd say.

- But you haven't seen the big one yet.

Poole carefully hangs the clothes on the door of the old wardrobe, and jumps up to the bed. There's a man lying there. Looks unconscious. The torso and right leg are bandaged in some way, and in one or two places, they're oozing scarlet blood. The mercenary unceremoniously grabs the sick man's head and lifts it up, eager to show me.

- Look at these! А?! That's just awesome! They're really cool horns! Why didn't I think of that cool idea?!

The horns on the front of Daredevil's mask are really impressive. The only thing I can't figure out is.

What the hell is going on here?!

- Tell me. - I waved my hand tiredly, making sure that Daredevil was alive but unconscious.

- Well, after losing sight of that crappy bucket, I decided to take a look around. Poke around, get some information like a badass detective! Well, you know our super-hero stuff, ha-ha! I was just proving to two cops that I don't need a licence to carry firearms and edged weapons when I noticed this! First I saw the flying robots that looked just like that bucket, but then I saw the main thing. That guy in the ultra-trendy outfit! Bro, it was love at first sight! Hey, what are you looking at me like that for?! Love for the suit, not what you think!

- So those robots did that to him? - I thought I'd check.

- Yeah! No, don't get me wrong! The guy fought pretty good. He took them down pretty quick, but they blew up in retaliation. Quite unfortunate as you can see.

- I see. - I scratch the back of my head thoughtfully. - And you didn't take off his mask? - I ask out of pure curiosity.

The mask of superheroes and supervillains is a kind of... not exactly taboo, but very close. For the most part, people on both sides of the barricades are sympathetic to the mystery of identity. Not everyone, though, not everyone. And Deadpool, to be honest, I don't really associate him with tact either. Considering how much he liked the horns.....

- Fuck it, fuck this haemorrhoid! - the mercenary retorted angrily. - I remember I once pulled off a lady's mask. Well, just to check out her face. You know, she had a great figure. Yeah, and then she did me... and then I retaliated, and then she did me again.... No, I'm not arguing! It was fun! But, bro, take my word for it! Sometimes even accelerated regeneration doesn't save the day, yeah....

- Ha ha! I'll keep that in mind.

We sat. No talking.

- So, what's up, bro? You want him on the team?

- What team?

- The Red Team, of course! Or the Superhero Red Team! Guaranteed to be a hit with the chicks. No, I'm not complaining right now. But just think of the possibilities. If you could just add a little more red, you'd be great.

- I prefer minimalism. - I'm explaining my position in life. - There should be a little bit of everything. Although my friend, as you can see, has a different opinion.

- Friend?

- Yeah, there he is. - nodding at Dardevil. - Didn't help his super red outfit!

- Brother! - there's a strange note in the mercenary's voice. - My respect for you just went up again! I just found a prospect to join our team, and you've known him for a long time! He's a true fan of the colour red! Shit! I'm still growing up to your level! So you approve of him?

- Recruit him. - I'll graciously condescend to answer. - I'll try to organise a doctor while you keep an eye on Daredevil?

- He's got a bad name, too! Of course I'll keep an eye on him!

- Good. And when he regains consciousness, ask him about those robots, OK?

- Sure thing!

- All right, then. I'm off, then. I'm sleepy as hell.

- See you later, bro!

I got home on autopilot. Surprisingly, no one greeted me. The house was empty. I made a titanic effort to fight fatigue and rang my family and found out they were out for a walk. Great! No one will bother me, and I can get a good night's sleep!

I managed to sleep until Petra came home. My little sister demanded attention. I had to get up.

I spent the evening with my family, doing small household chores. Gwen didn't call. Felicia didn't drop by. So I was able to have a chat with my aunt and uncle.

***

The next day. Bronx. New York.

I went to the university this morning, because I'd forgotten about it lately. Connors was happy and sent me off to give a lecture. I couldn't get out of it. Still, I owed him a bit. He visited Murdoch yesterday at my request. Gave him medical attention and everything.

Eventually, freed up from all my work, I decided to have a little holiday. A day off, so to speak, just to walk around the city. Or rather, fly on a spider's web. It was easy to assume that such patrolling would eventually lead me to another adventure. More often than not, it did. So I made a firm promise to myself to turn a blind eye to petty criminals and only intervene when my non-intervention could lead to something irreparable.

Most of the time I climbed the tallest buildings in the city, admiring the views, and indulging in the feeling of height. Amazingly, I never got bored of it. The sensation never dulled, never turned grey.

At one of these moments, when I was doing aerial feints, dabbling in crazy antics, a very distinctive haze appeared in front of my eyes. A policeman in an old-style uniform from ten years ago. A blond man with a painfully turned head. With blood on his face and torso. It was as if he'd been shot at point-blank range with a machine gun. It was a gruesome sight. And before I had time to react, I slammed into him at full speed... and went right through him.

What struck me almost more was that the spider's sense of smell completely ignored this... incident! Miraculously, I managed to twist in mid-air and look behind me, but found nothing unusual. The ghost of a policeman, or whatever it was, was absent.

I managed to stop my free fall not too far from the ground. I would have crashed!

Hmm...

How did I end up in the Bronx? It's the suburbs, but that doesn't make it any easier. The crime rate here is lower than Hell's Kitchen, but not by much. It's a lot bigger. There's a big difference between borough and county. If my memory serves me correctly, the Bronx has a little over 1.5 million people. That's according to the paperwork, but if you count illegals and other fun guys with no fixed abode, which there are plenty of, it's even more!

Trying to figure out what this vision was, I came back down to earth. I couldn't think of anything. I'd never seen that cop before. I think...

Running through the images of everyone I knew in my head, I slowly wandered through the nooks and crannies, going deeper and deeper into the county. My body moved almost on autopilot. Wandering through this maze with an empty head, I inadvertently scared away a blonde-haired and bad-smelling girl, who was at that very moment excitedly digging through a rubbish bin. When she saw me, she clearly got cold feet, turned pale, and ducked around the nearest corner. With a surprised hum, I shook my head and walked in the same direction. There was nowhere else to go. There's a dead end, and that's where I came from. Anyway, having decided that I would not scare the girl more than I was, and she was probably already gone, I also turned the corner.

They were already prepared for my arrival. Four women were waiting for me. Or rather, three girls and an older woman. A familiar blonde with a piece of metal pipe in her hands, overshadowing the brunette with curly hair, and that woman. A little ahead of them stood another brunette girl. I had seen her yesterday at the Hotel Brazil at the corpse of an unknown man. But it wasn't our acquaintance that surprised me, it was the metal claws starting between the fingers of her hands.

Don't tell me.

- Damn it! - the older woman cursed. - I've seen this bloke on the telly a few times!

- So? - The blonde asked nervously, gripping the pipe stump tighter.

- He's some kind of superhero. I don't think he's here for us. - replied the woman. - Do you?

- I don't know what you ladies are talking about, but I ran into you by accident! And I certainly don't need your souls! But wait a minute. I think I'm starting to get it. Hey, baby! - I'm addressing a... hmm... apparently X-23 judging by the claws. - Does this have anything to do with that dead guy from last night?

- Laura, do you know him?

- Yes and... yes. - A nod first to me and then with some hesitation to the blonde.

- Ha, you've intrigued me! - I sit on the boot of an old rusty car, of which, in fact, only the body is left, everything else has long been scattered. - Talk to me!

- Why should we?!

- As you have correctly pointed out, ma'am, I am a superhero. Perhaps I can help you. But how can I help you when I know next to nothing?

The blonde spoke mostly, occasionally supplemented by an older woman. X-23 retracted her claws, and followed the story with some curiosity. But she didn't take the initiative, mostly keeping quiet. The brunette with curly hair was also silent, paying more attention to her own thoughts, and frowning.

The story didn't take long, and after a dozen or so minutes I had more or less got into the situation.

- So, let me summarise what I've heard? - Without waiting for permission to ask a rhetorical question, I continue. - There are. Kayden is a girl who can see her late father's ghost and stop time, but has little control over her abilities. Is that correct?

Kayden, as the blonde introduced herself, was a pretty girl, but she looked and dressed like a typical street kid. A street kid, of which the Bronx is full of.

- Aha! - the girl looked at me as if she expected me to mock her words.

- Okay. - I nod seriously. - Next. Tatiana (a beautiful name, by the way) - can turn into animal-like creatures. Apparently, the process is somehow tied to their blood. She can't control it, as the first time it happened to her was just today! Is that correct?

- That's right, Sherlock!

The girl in question, the brunette with the frizzy hair, is clearly on edge, where's a counsellor when you need one!? According to Kayden, they met Tatiana this morning. Rescued from an aggressive mob, hostile to a mutant who had just shown her strength. Too bad her powers were awakened at school during class. And now all her classmates, friends and acquaintances hate her. Well, maybe not all of them, but most of them.

- Hmmm... Laura - can let loose with her razor-sharp claws.

X-23 shook her head slightly, confirming my words. Unlike the first two mutants, this one I knew. Not that my knowledge of her was great, in fact, I only knew of her existence as such. I never thought she could be a prostitute! And doing it at that age!

- And the last one in your company. Cameron is Cayden's ex-teacher, has no powers and is the most suspicious person in your group!

- Her?

Cameron, also a brunette, didn't look good. Even worse than Tatiana. Pale, wrapped in a terrycloth dressing gown, and shivering. I'd realised Cayden had recently been tipped off by her dead dad to save a former teacher from suicide. And even earlier, that same teacher had been shot by Cayden. In some strange way, this circumstance influenced Cameron to quit her job, break up with her husband, and, in the end, she couldn't stand the mental strain and slit her wrists.

It's all very confusing and confusing. I'll have to ask around more later.

- I'm kidding, I'm kidding! I'm just trying to lighten the mood, cos you've got a bit of a scowl on your faces!

- You believe us? - Kayden asked, surprised or suspicious.

- Baby, you're asking a costumed superhero if he believes in mutants? What do you think?

- Well... it's... - she's unsure.

- I believe you, don't worry. Now that we've sorted out the identities... Now, here's the crux of your problem. All of you are being hunted by a certain drug lord pimp who believes that Laura killed one of his clients. And that's why this bad man wants revenge. But Laura didn't actually kill anyone. Right?

- You've got it all laid out! - Tatiana growled aggressively again.

So! We have a certified teacher in the company! Why doesn't she save the situation?! Or is she, like me, an expert in psychology?

- Does this Zebra Daddy have some kind of superpower?

- I don't know. Laura? - Cayden turned the tables.

- No.' she answered uncertainly, or seems uncertain...hard to tell....

- No, or you don't know? - I thought I'd ask.

- I've never seen anything like it. - Again the dark-haired girl's voice remained almost completely dry, bland, devoid of even a modicum of emotion.

- Whatever it is, he definitely has a few armed thugs in his command. And that seems to me even more dangerous than any of the powers. - the teacher intervened.

- That's very possible. - I nod. - Hmm... Well ladies, I can think of two ways to solve your problem.