Spider-Man SI

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***

The first test took over an hour, half of it waiting to be checked by Jarvis and double-checked by Dr Connors. But all bad things come to an end sooner or later, and so it was in this case. The AI and human found nothing unusual and I was given the green light to walk.

Just in time.

A little more and I simply wouldn't have made it to one event. Honestly, I don't know whether to be happy or not. The thing is, I'm about to meet someone I'd rather not see. No, it's not as dangerous as Professor X. Funny to say, but this person's name is Gwendalyn Stacey. Basically I'm afraid of meeting my own girlfriend, yeah.

Taking the lift down to the underground car park, I settled into my company car.

- Mr Parker,' the older man behind the wheel smiled affably.

- Hello, Stephen. Do you remember where we're going?

- Of course, sir.

- Well, drive on then.

The man started the engine, and gently pulled the car away. I noticed his hands. The skin on his right palm was half a shade lighter.

- How's the hand? Does it feel all right?

- You ask?! - Steven grinned. - Just fine! Yesterday I signed up for guitar lessons. Believe me, all my life I wanted to learn, but somehow I didn't have time for it. And then I got injured and had to have an amputation. You can't play with one hand anymore.

- It's never too late to learn,' I said, playing Captain Hindsight. But Steven just smiled and nodded sincerely.

He was a good friend of Shark's. An old comrade who hadn't been spared by the war. In one hot spot, Stephen had lost his left arm, everything below the forearm. The man didn't despair, walked around in his old prosthesis and saved up for a new, more advanced one. Probably, he could not expect that the new arm would be made for him for free, and it would turn out to be much, really much better than all existing analogues.

Stark was really serious about my prosthetic arm idea. It was a new niche for him, but with his tenacity and talent, he just didn't see any competition. The billionaire had formally drawn up a contract between the young and little-known Parker Industries. So all future profits from prosthetic sales were split between the two companies. Personally, I was hardly involved, I was busy with Architect at the time, but Stark was co-operating with Otto Octavius, and Kurt Connors. They were both listed as employees of my firm.

Stark was responsible for the technical and design part of the case. Octavius implemented his proprietary technology to control technology with his mind. And Connors actually performed the actual operations to implant the implants and cover them with real human skin.

Yes, these prosthetics were not removable structures. Oh, no!

The people who agreed to be Stark's guinea pigs were cyborgs. With Connors' skin, they look like normal people, not the product of mad scientists, like classic Robocop, or, for example, Cyborg from the world of DC. Judging by the patients' reactions, they are only too happy not to see artificial parts of their bodies. This creates an almost complete semblance of normality. People forget that they were once disabled and feel like full members of society again. The mental control is no different from the way a person normally controls their limbs, Octavius has worked particularly hard on this. The artificial skin is even capable of transmitting tactile sensations, albeit to a lesser extent.

But, it must be said, not all the participants of the experiment wanted to put their new 'toys' in a leather case. There was a large percentage of those who got high from the fact that you can break bricks with your fist, and do other not quite ordinary things. They were usually very upset when they learnt that their prosthetic limbs would not have any 'laser' cannon built into them.

At this point, the procedure for customising and fitting such prostheses was well established. Like me and the Architect, Stark had now hit the wall of legality of such actions, and was actively working towards it. Or rather, he only shone his face and made loud statements, everything else hung on the fragile shoulders of Potts.

The active billionaire went further, and together with the same Connors and Octavius he was working on more cardinal interference in the human body. I wouldn't be surprised if he learnt all the medical literature he could get his hands on in a couple of nights. Why do I think that? Well, he wants to help one of Shark's men with a serious spinal injury get back on his feet. It's not just prosthetics anymore. The operation was complex and dangerous, but he's already created and is testing several specialised medical robots on animals.

My supervisor, although he has had some success with meditation, which he learnt from Daredevil, but still does not risk growing back his lost arm. He has already conducted several successful experiments in this direction, but he is afraid to break and turn into a Lizard again. He's understandably refused a prosthetic arm. But Stark's robots can be controlled with one hand. What the hell am I talking about? Kurt gives them mental commands and doesn't use his hands at all. Sure, he suffers a little from not being able to hold a scalpel himself. But let's face it, that practice will soon be a thing of the past. Why, when there are Stark robots? Science is moving forward and old methods are dying out. It's a slightly sad but inevitable and natural process.

Whilst I pondered the eternal, Stephen drove us safely to the hospital. I asked him to wait for me, got out of the car and followed the familiar path to the right room.

- Mr Stacey,' I said as I stepped inside. - How would you like to leave these hospital walls?

- Damn, Peter, what took you so long? - He asks impatiently, and picks up a small travelling bag and gets out of bed. He is dressed and, as they say, fully alert.

- It's about time,' I exclaim a little surprised and glance at the face of my watch to be sure.

- Really? Time flows so slowly here that I'm tired of waiting. The second hand is ticking away at the speed of a turtle. Let's get out of here quietly, huh?

I just nod, and we leave the hospital room, but right outside the door we're already expected. The nurse with the wheelchair takes a stern look at the patient and says:

- Sir, you know the rules.

- Yes, but...' the police officer fidgets slightly.

- No buts, sir. You are required to leave the walls of our facility in a wheelchair, it's procedure.

- Okay, Trish, whatever you say,' the man in his prime agrees sourly.

I can't help but smile, and I catch the angry look from both the nurse and the captain. Oh, you've found the worst of it! We made our way to the lift and took it down to the car park. It was only when we were near the car that the restless Trish finally calmed down and let us go home. Oh, dear.

Stephen drove us through the city streets, sometimes stopping in traffic, while Gwen's father told me about his experience in the hospital. I listened half-heartedly, and only nodded and nodded in the right places.

Shit. I feel like the ultimate bastard.

I suppose I could have checked in on him more often. Sure, out of the ten days he'd spent in the expensive private clinic, he'd been in a coma for seven, but he'd been bored to death the last three days. I, not wanting any contact with Gwen, was diving into my work and ignoring everything that was going on around me.

Somehow I realised it all at once. I'm an arsehole!

Of course I'm angry with her, but should I have brought it to such an extent?

The girl's going through a rough patch, too. Her father almost died, and it's a miracle he survived. And instead of supporting her, I'm doing some kind of uninteresting reflection. Maybe I should make up with her. Done! I'm gonna make up with her right now.

They met us at the main entrance of the house. A tall young blonde and a petite young brunette with Asian features. Gwen just saw her father and threw herself around his neck. She hung there for a few seconds dropping tears, and then coming to her senses she hurriedly pulled away and started groping the police officer asking if he had any pain. And after all, looking at it from the outside, you can not say that she read his medical history. In fact, it says in black and white that his physical condition is completely normal. In some way not yet fully understood, the girl's strange bicolour symbiote had managed to heal all the injuries in his body, but had not touched his brain. George's consciousness, from the painful shock and lack of oxygen under the concrete rubble, decided that it had seen this reality in the grave, falling into the saving abyss of a coma. After resting for a week, the man's brains came back from the strain and got into the game. What's the point of being shouty when your body's fine? That's right.

But Gwen on emotions behaves like a hysterical blonde, not a smart and intelligent student of a prestigious university.

Yuri Watanabe, as a slightly older woman, showed herself more tactful and let the girl let off steam. Only when she calmed down, took control of herself, and moved away from Captain Stacy his beloved allowed herself a modest embrace and an almost innocent kiss on the cheek.

Letting Stephen go, we went up to the Stacey family flat. George immediately disappeared into the bathroom, declaring that his first priority right now was just dreaming of smooth skin on his chin. Apparently Gwen had forgotten to bring him a razor. Oh, judging by the flash of embarrassment, she did.

While the head of the family was getting dressed up, we all set the table for the party. I mean, Yuri set the table, Gwen served, and I carried it. We did it a little faster than George, after all, the girls that were waiting for us had everything ready, just put it on the table.

I took advantage of the moment and walked over to my still hopeful girlfriend.

- Gwen, I'm sorry,' I said, and with a magician's gesture I pulled a flower out of the air. - It's not a real, illusory rose, but I promise that next time I'll bring you a whole bouquet of material beauties.

- It's okay,' she sniffled and wrapped her arms around me, 'the important thing is that it doesn't have thorns.

The kiss that followed was innocent, too. In its own way.

After what seemed like an eternity, as we pulled away from each other and I wanted to say something else insanely stupid and romantic, the alarm bell sounded sharply. And that was a good thing. At least I'd be a lot more upset if some critical situation distracted me before I had time to make up with Gwen. That would have been really lousy.

Cee had already realised what had happened, and without taking me away from contemplating Gwen's beautiful face Stacy whispered the information quietly in my ear.

- Is it urgent? - She was worried, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

- I'm afraid so,' I sighed heavily.

- Do you need my help?

- I can handle it,' I shook my head. - Just promise me you'll spend the whole evening with your family, okay? Have fun for the two of us, okay?

- Peter,' she looked away. - Please tell me you're not turning me down right now because... not because of my symbiote.

Instead of words, I pulled her to me again and sank into those sweet, plump lips. Oh gods of Olympus! How good they are!

After a minute, I was able to say goodbye to Gwen and get on with my business. And they were troubling. The Night Serpent's beacons had gone off. All of them. Given the technology they were built on, it was a good guess that he'd been kidnapped by some serious guys. Having been in similar situations before, and more than once, I tried to be as careful as possible about the safety of my friends. And Kurt was definitely one of them.

I changed into my costume in Gwen's room, and then I teleported myself away. It was stupid to come out of her window looking like Spidey. It wasn't likely to be noticed by anyone, but why risk it?

Releasing the cobwebs, I rushed towards the old church, closed for renovation, where the blue-skinned and yellow-eyed Kurt Wagner lived. It was there that his signal had been cut off so suddenly. A task force of Shark's men had also gone to the address. I suppose I should have given them some kind of a name, but I'd gotten too used to the fact that they were just Shark's men and that was it.

Sadly, the God's abode could only please me with its emptiness. Absolutely no signs of life. I saw no signs of violence. But in the chaos that invariably accompanies renovations, it would have been difficult to see any signs of struggle. Maybe a detective would have found some clues inside it, but all I saw was a desolate old and dingy building, nothing more. Except that the locked doors on the outside gave me a somewhat disturbing thought. There were two possibilities, either Snake had teleported himself somewhere my beacons couldn't signal, or the one who had kidnapped him had closed the door behind him. I hoped for the former. Still, when he teleported, he disappeared from the tracking programmes for a short time, but almost immediately he reappeared on the screens.

I wanted to hope, but...

But I was a realist.

These things don't happen by chance. We're in a fucking comic book world.

The only thing I had to do was relay the information to the task force. There was a man among the five of them who was experienced in the business of finding evidence. Maybe he'll find something I missed.

Oh, right. I could also look for the man who took Kurt in. Problem was, I didn't know exactly where to find the damn priest. Kurt had mentioned a priest living near the temple. So all I had to do was scour the neighbourhood blindly. It was maddening, but I didn't know how to speed up the process of getting information.

There was a backup team of Sharkovtsovs. But they weren't detectives, they were more law enforcers. I wasn't in a hurry to pull the rest of my friends up yet either. Partly I still believed that Kurt would turn up, and I didn't want to make a fuss before the time. I'd wait a couple of hours, and then we'd see.

Carefully jumping from roof to roof, I looked for I don't know what I was looking for. Surprisingly, I was lucky for once. A figure caught my eye. What was interesting about her was the tone of her clothes. The trademark white corset, high light boots, and similarly coloured trousers. Add to that snow-white hair, and we have Emma Frost herself! Was eager to come down from the roof and say hello, thus showing her benevolence. Even though she was a telepath, whose brethren I don't particularly honour, she kept her word. At least for now. And I could not be indifferent to the White Queen. Then during our first meeting, which by the way took place not so long ago, she accidentally showed me a part of her own life. Probably, it can be compared to many hours of sobbing on her shoulder with a pitiful story about her hard fate. After such a thing, it is simply impossible to remain indifferent to the person revealed.

So, I wanted at least to show myself to her eyes, and exchange at least a couple of phrases. But in time I noticed something interesting. The girl was walking through a virtually deserted neighbourhood. The few passers-by who came across her way stopped for a moment, their faces derevenated, their eyes misted up, and they continued on their way, as if not noticing the conspicuous and expensively dressed for this part of the city lady. But that was not the interesting part. Twenty metres ahead of Emma was a man. The girl was clearly following him. Jumping to another roof, I was surprised to recognise the man as the one I had been looking for all this time.

Curiosity won out, and I didn't show my face to Emma prematurely. On the contrary, I increased the distance between us. She might notice. I didn't have to wait long. The priest, dressed in civilian clothes, not a cassock, reached his house about ten minutes later. He rummaged in his pockets, took out his wallet, dropped it, finally found his keys in his pockets, and went into the old shabby building. He didn't close the doors behind him, and he didn't pick up the wallet. Emma seemed to have been controlling him the whole time.

The queen took a careful look around and followed into the house. I didn't hesitate, so I hurried to the back of the house. The door led to the kitchen and was not closed. It was silly on the one hand, but on the other hand, it was a bit of a challenge to get in here, though an athletic man could do it. So it was hard to say who the owner of the house turned out to be. A fool, or he's just a big believer in human decency. I was betting more on the latter, given, of course, his profession or if you will his vocation.

I didn't have time to think about the problem, because I was forced to dodge the blow, following the signal of my instincts. A large kitchen knife, a carving knife, whistled merrily at the spot where my neck had been a little earlier.

- What nimble burglars they are nowadays. - Emma said sadly, and clucked her tongue in annoyance.

- I wonder what the White Queen has stooped to! To think of it! Robbing a beggar priest!

- Grrr! How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not Queen yet! And stop shaking the air! If you know my plans, you don't have to tell everyone you meet!

- Come on! Not the knife! Not at me! Put it down! Put the knife down! - I caught the dangerous projectile and put it behind my back. - I didn't say anything to anyone! Not even half a word! Honest spider! Why are you so nervous?

- Maybe I'm having one of those days.

I don't get it. Is she trying to embarrass me? Pfft.

- I'm sorry.

- What? The girl's a little taken aback.

- I'm saying I'm sorry to hear about your boss, yeah.

- I'll kill you!

Emma started throwing all sorts of kitchen utensils at me, accompanying the process with selected and pithy insults. There was no swearing in them, because of her father's upbringing, but the verbal constructions were of astonishing complexity. They were probably hurtful, too, but I didn't catch their essence yet, trying to memorise the text verbatim. I didn't want to make a mess in the house, especially not in someone else's. So I carefully caught everything that was sent to me and put it on the window sill behind me. Until Frost got bored with our amusing game of circus performers, and she finally calmed down.

- I wish you'd let me hit you once! - Emma grumbled with a pout.

- No thanks, I value my body as a memory!

- I can't hit you with a cannon! Why were you following me, anyway?

- Did you notice?

- It's hard not to notice such obvious interest in your own person. And I remembered your 'wave,' so I recognised it immediately.

- Wave? Is that like a peculiarity of my mental field?

- Something like that. If you don't go into subtle explanations and comparisons. So why were you following me?

- Ugh! That hurts! Actually, I was going to visit the owner of this house. Confession and all that. I see you coming.

- Yeah, pure coincidence. I believed it! I'd like to remind you that it was you who suggested we stay out of each other's lives.

- Hmm... - I guess I'm going to have to share some details, and tell the truth. Why would I fight with Emma? No reason at all. But she's not likely to believe anything other than the truth. - Okay, I'll tell you what I'm doing here. But...

- Well,' the telepath frowned, sensing a catch.

- Only on the condition that you do the same.

- Pfft! You wish! I'm not in the naive fools anonymous club!

- Come on! So I find out a few more of your secrets, so what? More secrets, less secrets.

- All right. Tell me why you're here. I'll think about it later.

- Women. - I sigh sadly. - Okay, there's no big secret. I'm missing a friend. A mutant. I think he was kidnapped. The owner of this house was connected to him. So I thought he might know something.

- Hmm. You're not lying. How can you be sure he didn't just switch off his phone and go to, say, his grandad's in the country?

- Firstly, he doesn't have a grandfather, and neither does the rest of his family. And secondly, all three of his trackers stopped working all at once. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about, and if none of these gadgets are showing any signs of life, then my friend has been kidnapped by some serious guys.

- That's how... - Emma thought seriously. - Maybe our goals are somewhat similar. Listen.

Emma's story was very enlightening. Considering that I don't remember much about the telepath from my past life, any information from her automatically becomes interesting. So, as she herself had told me more than once, she was not yet the White Queen of the Club. She is relatively new to their ranks. And almost immediately became quite close in outlook and views with one Sebastian Shaw, also a mutant. Who Shaw is, I honestly don't remember at all.

At this point, there were two men who held complete power in the club. Edward Bachman and Paris Seville. The King and Queen. Though as far as I understood from Frost's words, the man was in charge of this bright, hehe, duo. Bachman's main goal according to him was to take control of all mutants so that he could rule the world with their help. That would be okay. Emma and her friend Shaw were fine with that. They wouldn't even bother until they knew the truth. Well, until they found out the truth.

As it happened, Frost was clearly no fool, and didn't flaunt her real abilities much. Sebastian was probably the only one who realised her true strength. Everyone else thought she was a rather weak telepath. Just recently, by pure chance, she had read her superiors' minds and learnt that Bachmann was leading them astray. In fact, this powerful man had slightly different goals. He wanted to destroy all mutants. Whether this was due to childhood trauma, adult beliefs, or something else, the fact remained. The man had contacted some murky organisation with the same goal.

Emma couldn't find out much. Still, she had no opportunity to arouse suspicion and dig into the brains of her superiors for a long time. But the girl managed to find out a couple of names. Among them was the name of our mutual acquaintance. And also.

- Repeat please. - I asked tensely.

- Stryker, Colonel Stryker. Why? You know him?

Isn't he the guy who was the one who broke Logan up and experimented on him? What a twist! If he's involved in Kurt's disappearance, which he probably is, then everything makes sense. But just how does this poor church minister fit in?

- No. I don't know him personally, but I've heard a little,' I paced nervously around the kitchen. - Listen, why didn't you tell your companion from the Club? According to you, he's a strong mutant, could put Bachmann in his place. Or take him out. Why'd you start digging deeper on your own?

- I thought I needed to gather more evidence,' she said uncertainly. As if she didn't believe what she was saying. - If you were Shaw, would you take my word for it?

- No,' I said back. - But I'd definitely check it out.

- Hmm,' Emma looked away. - Anyway, I want to get proof, and then I'm going to tell Shaw what I know.

That's how we found out each other's motivations. Somehow our interests were converging on a priest whose sanctity I was slowly losing faith in.

- Have you dug into our friend's head yet? - I asked Emma.

- So far, I've only managed to track him down and bring him here. If I hadn't had someone in my way, I would have learnt everything I needed to know a long time ago.

- Well, you go ahead and I'll go through the house and see what I can find.

Inside, the house, with its thin cardboard walls, looked like a bachelor pad. There were pizza boxes, restaurant wrappers from Chinese food, and bottles everywhere. Lots of bottles. Only the bedroom was more or less clean. That's what alarmed me. Especially how neatly the few belongings in one of the wardrobes were stacked. I tapped the back wall with my knuckles, smirked, and after a couple of minutes of trying, I opened the secret door. Behind it was a niche with a shrine. Except the shrines inside were far from Catholic. Not only that. Inside on the wall hung a dozen photographs. Some of them depicted the Night Serpent, and the rest were of some other people. Mutants, judging by the visible changes in their appearance. At the very top of the photo, painted directly on the wall, was written: 'God created the world for people'. At the bottom, however, the inscription was supplemented with the following: 'Mutants were brought into it by the devil.' A long black hoodie with large white inserts in the shape of a cross hung on a rack to the left.

- Fucking fanatics,' I whispered in my heart and picked up the plastic folder that lay on the small table next to the Bible and the gun. I quickly reviewed its contents, jotting everything down in the memory of my miniature computer.

Frost was still gutting the priest's or should I say sectarian's memory. Either she was going through all of his memories from infancy onwards, or she was just working slowly. While she was sitting on the armchair opposite the drooling freak, the Sharkovtsy arrived at the house. I doubted there were any other hiding places left, but let people work.

The future White Queen finally opened her eyes and asked for a glass of water. After taking a couple of sips, she noticed the strangers.

- Your friends? - she asked, glancing at the man dressed in full army kit.

- They were. So did you find out anything?

- Less than I would have liked,' the telepath admitted.

According to her, it appeared that the priest was indeed a mutant-hater. Connected with some religious sect, convinced that all mutants came from the evil one, and that mankind should exterminate them. He fancied himself an inquisitor and wanted to light fires, but his superiors gave him another task. He had to keep an eye on Wagner and at the right moment help the capture team to catch that. A mutant that can teleport is difficult to take on the spot, so they needed a man who would gain the trust and favour of the guy. The priest played the role perfectly, but inside he was boiling with anger. He should work in the theatre with such talents in the field of acting, and he thought he was some kind of twisted James Bond.

That's exactly what he thought. In reality, he was just a simple, albeit useful, pawn. Frost hadn't been gutting him for so long because he knew so much, quite the opposite. He was not initiated into anything, and to extract from his memory at least some crumbs of information young person had to dig into the brains of the sectarian.

Suddenly I found myself thinking that it was all right for Emma to pry into his mind. I even approve of it. He's an enemy and all methods are good against him, but it's kind of creepy. I don't know. It smacks of a double standard.

Anyway, the priest and I only got a few new names from her about the anti-mutant conspiracy. I decided not to tell her anything about the file I found in the stash. It was mostly information about other mutants. Nothing of curiosity about the matter at hand.

At this point, we had nothing left but to pull strings and hope that someone we knew about would be informed enough. We decided to act without delay. I was worried about Kurt, and assumed it would be bad if the sectarians realised they were being hunted. They might do something stupid. And we didn't want that.

Before evening we had gutted the houses and flats of five more members of this secret organisation, and at last we were able to build up a more or less complete picture from small pieces.

Colonel Stryker was known in this world as Reverend Stryker. In fact, he had a military background and relevant connections, but after one incident, the man decided to radically change his line of work. The sectarians he now led sincerely believed that God himself had spoken to their leader! That he had given the man the power and knowledge to destroy all the vile spawn of the devil. According to them, the Reverend had knowledge of the future. That's why their business flourished and grew.

William enjoyed unquestioned authority among the members of his sect. They almost prayed for him and his plans. All details of the latter we certainly did not manage to learn, but apparently in his crusade against mutants he was going to rely on modern human science, and, as it is not surprising, on the mutants themselves. With the former, everything is clear, he gathered around him many scientists close to him in philosophy and with their help designed advanced weapons. They were also trying to create combat robots. And something reminded me of that. There were some iron giants in an old X-Men cartoon that hunted mutants. I think they were a government initiative. But I can't vouch for that.

As for attracting mutants, Stryker also showed a lot of zeal. No he did not persuade some mutants to kill others for the glory of his sect. Hardly anyone in their right mind would have agreed to that. It was on that basis that the Reverend decided to act obviously. He brainwashed some mutants to turn them against others. This was something I was more or less familiar with from the film. A similar scenario was used there, but I don't remember all the details either.

Stryker's sect was vast and influential. He was supported by several other priests, police officers, politicians and the military. And even the current leadership of the Hellfire Club, favoured his plans in every way possible. He had all the resources and opportunities he needed to make life difficult for the mutants. Every chance to turn his plans into reality. Except for one thing.

Kurt Wagner.

William decided to obviously captivate and brainwash my friend. In the film, he pits the guy against some big official, the president even if I'm not mistaken. All this to foment hatred between ordinary people and anyone who had super powers or unique looks. For Stryker there was no fundamental difference between Cyclops, Hulk or Thor. We were all enemies to him. Which meant he was the same to us.

The Reverend screwed up. He took too big a bait. I'll be the fisherman who pulls him out of the pond.

Frost didn't take well to my idea of an immediate attack on Stryker's base. Eventually, though, she said she'd help me in that endeavour, at the same time getting me some real evidence of collusion between the Reverend and the current White King of the club. We agreed to meet in half an hour. I needed to be well prepared, and for some reason the telepath refused to fly with me on the web. Did she think I'd drop her?

As soon as I was a few blocks away from the beautiful woman, I was surrounded by a vague purple smoke, or rather fog. Frowning, I pulled the thread of the web toward me, trying to get out of range of the unfamiliar substance, but the fog didn't let up. It kept circling around me as if unaware of the speed at which I was travelling. It was starting to really bother me, and I wanted to use the teleport to save me, but the fog intensified sharply and seemed to come at me. A moment of disorientation and I felt like I was somewhere else.