Spider-Man SI

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***

The sky over New York. Hippo.

I regained consciousness with a jerk. Unfortunately, this doesn't happen to me very often. The process of transition from sleep to wakefulness is a bit delayed for me. Like most normal people. But it happens sometimes, so that, at a particular moment, I realise that I am no longer asleep. I can open my eyelids with difficulty, but at the same time I am sure that I will not fall asleep again. It was like that now.

There was a strange feeling. As if nothing hurt, but there was no feeling of a healthy spirit in a healthy body. My left arm was so numb that I could hardly feel it.

My stomach rumbled demandingly, and I decided to get up. I wiped my eyes with my right hand and sat up on the bed. The room was not mine. It was a rather cramped room, all Spartan in style. The walls were a grey, unpleasant-looking colour. There was only a bed, a table and a chair, nothing else. No pictures, floor lamps, or other small worldly goods. Except for a mirror on the table and a statue of some kind. Not even any windows. Feverishly remembering what had brought me to such a room, I continued to look around.

Well, well, well, well. S.H.I.E.L.D., Nick Fury - a woman, gangsters, and glory to the green Hulk - the canonical Deadpool! At least something in this universe is unchanging and immutable! Well, if insanity can be considered a constant.....

Okay, stop giggling hysterically! Hm-hmmm... the very first and saddest conclusion is that I was captured by Fury's men. Conclusion... the conclusion is sad, very sad indeed. After examining myself, I realised that fighting my way out was not the best option. Almost my entire body was wrapped in bandages. My left arm was locked tightly to my torso. It seems that in the fight with that 'knight' I had a lot more than it seemed at first. Strangely, during the fight, I thought that the sword didn't hit me anything serious. Adrenaline? Maybe. Either way, fighting is not an option. And not even because of the physical impossibility of the act. The mystery of the identity, be damned, is solved. And even if I try to escape, S.H.I.E.L.D. knows who I am, and more importantly, who my relatives are....

How'd it all start out so well? I'm gonna help these guys out, let them owe me a favour. Maybe I'll get something nice for myself. Shit! That's what good intentions can do! I can only hope that we can come to an agreement.

Hmm... what's that playing? Listening, I began to recognise a quiet melody and... the sound of falling water. A shower. Once again, looking around the room where I was 'settled' I noticed someone's things neatly stacked on a chair near the bed. The things were clearly not meant for me. The light beige lace panties were definitely women's. What was this? I've been assigned a guard? Probably a carer. How could they have known I was capable of waking up before normal people? The nurse didn't know that either and decided to take a shower. Well, if the 'tongue' comes into my hands, it's a sin not to open my arms!

I got to my feet, a little staggered, but tolerable. I looked around the room and came to the table. The sculpture standing near the mirror was a mini version of the Statue of Liberty. Weighed it on my hand. It's heavy. It'll work as a baton. I don't intend to use it, of course, but as a deterrent, let it be.

I walked across the room, ducked into a narrow corridor, and there's the bathroom, just round the corner. There's a phone on the shelf, singing in Presley's voice:

A little less conversation, a little more action please

All this aggravation ain't satisfying me

A little more bite and a little less bark

A little less fight and a little more spark

Close your mouth and open up your heart and baby satisfy me

Satisfy me baby

I muster up the courage... after all, my opponent is a girl, so I have to be gentle. Only scare, only scare.... I take a deep breath and jump out from around the corner.

She was standing with her back to me, and was now rinsing the rest of the shampoo out of her dark hair. When she heard the noise, she turned her head slightly, smiled and wiggled her hips. I swallowed convulsively, but my throat was dry and only twitched convulsively. Appetising and simply perfect female ass could not help but attract the male gaze.

- Do you like me? - A familiar voice asked languidly. - How about that?

She turned fully towards me, showing off the bold nipples of her voluminous breasts. Without embarrassing me at all, she began to slowly rinse off the foam.

- Oh! I see you like me! - she glanced at me with a sly look in her single grey eye, and laughed.

I lowered my head in the direction she was looking, and I was covered in red blotches.

- I'm sorry...te. - I whispered and retreated away from that crazy witchy look, away from the plump lips, from the tantalisingly protruding nipples....

It turns out I was wearing only one pair of knickers, which, of course, could not hide the natural reaction of my body. Damn! I still consider the image of this woman to be practically perfect! I've seen every film she's ever been in. Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! What was I thinking before?! Didn't I realise that in the shower I'd see a girl, a naked girl?! No, I didn't! I could see it, but she's like Angelina Jolie. She's better! Why better? Probably because she's real, and unlike her film version, which is in another universe, she's in the same room as me right now.

She came out of the shower a dozen minutes later. Thank the Great Korean Random Nick had wrapped herself in a large towel, hiding all her charms. Except for her legs. Realising I was hanging on again, I turned away abruptly, stared at the netting, and shut my mouth. She giggled. Man, I certainly had a lot of childhood film idols. But mostly it was the jock Schwartz, the skilful and funny Jackie, the lord of the local continuum Chuck Noris.... Men in a word. On the fairer side I can obviously think of a few names as well. But I am literally and figuratively delighted only by HER! Moreover, this admiration did not pass, did not remain in childhood. It stayed with me all the time!

After five minutes, I couldn't stand it and threw an oblique glance at her. Nick was diligently applying some kind of chemistry to her damp hair. Women's ritual magic is the most difficult magic in the world. For men naturally, for normal men, to be specific. At the same time she was looking at me with interest. At first I wanted to turn away again, even started this action. But then suddenly I got angry. I've never seen a naked girl before?! Why the hell am I acting like a virgin?! I tried my best and gave her an independent look. She smiled for some reason. I frowned and gave her an angry look. I wanted to make it lustful, but I couldn't. Why the fuck is she laughing again!

- Did you really hang Justin Hammer upside down? - Nick suddenly asks, confused by my nodding. - And tied a red ribbon with a bow around it?

***

New York. Twenty-four hours earlier.

The trashed hotel room was buzzing like a beehive. Shabby S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were scurrying about, bringing a measured chaos to the room. Colonel Fury waved away another annoying subordinate who insisted that she should be seen by a doctor.

- The doctor has a more severe case! - she threw in slightly irritated. - And there's nothing wrong with me!

Despite the pile of cuts that adorned her clothes after the recent fight, the woman hadn't received a single cut. Just a couple of bruises from particularly hard sword blows, and a sensitive bump on her head. A member of the Sixth Interventionist Service wanted to appeal to his superiors' judgement, but when he met the menacing gaze, he hastily disappeared from view. He just didn't have the necessary clearance to know some of the colonel's peculiarities.

- What's up, Doc? Will our hero live?

Nick squatted down beside the short and slightly overweight man and his patient.

- What can I tell you... - the man said a little disconsolately, wiping his blood-stained hands, - He needs to go to the hospital immediately.

- That's what I've heard, is there anything specific you can tell me?

- I'm not a surgeon. Of course, I provided first aid, I applied a tourniquet....

- But? - The colonel was sharper than she wanted to be.

- But it hit a major artery, he should have bled out before your men found me. And frankly, I'm confused, all my knowledge says one thing, but my eyes show another. Understand, arterial haemorrhage is a very dangerous thing and-

Nick took a deep breath and tried not to listen to this so-called doctor. How could he go to the restaurant today?! And anyway, she asked to find a person who could give first aid! Why did she have to bring in a university scientist? So he could give them a lecture?! Who do you have to work with?! Fury looked at Agent Carter. She's a little girl, but she's a little more intelligent than some of the others. Should we take her into consideration? Hmm...

Nodding to the professor, the colonel approached another casualty - just the partner of the promising agent.

- How's he doing?

- Unconscious. - Sharon shrugged. - Looks like a fractured arm, and cuts to the head, bleeding pretty badly.

- Terrence! - Fury called in another subordinate. - Get these guys on the second flight back to base.

- Both of them? - The large, dark-skinned man looked slightly surprised.

- Yes. And let them wait for me.

- Good... - the man suddenly stopped talking and put his index finger to his ear. - Ma'am! The hippo is here!

- All right! All emergency responders to the chopper! The rest of you take the second flight. Terrence, wait for the sweep team!

The sky over New York City. Hippo. I'm on it.

- and you woke up in the chopper. For a moment, really. But you managed to give me the host. Thanks for getting it, by the way! - Nick smiled gratefully, playing with the flash drive I'd stolen from Taskmaster, which he'd appropriately stolen from Fury.

- It's empty. - I mumbled, digesting what I'd heard.

- But I wish I hadn't...' she sighs sadly.

- What?! It took me a few minutes to realise what I'd heard.

- What I heard! - Nick looks at me firmly. - Tell me, what do you think is on that flashcard?

- How should I know? Some kind of data, secret information, missile launch codes... - under the mocking glance of my interlocutor I cut myself off.

- Pete, you're a smart guy. You're a genius. You've finished school early, you're successfully replacing Professor Connors at lectures. Do you really think I'd carry around classified information without proper security?

- You can't be brilliant at everything! - I take offence.

- Well, yes, well, yes... - mockingly tease me.

- So I shouldn't have risked my hide? - I ignore the agreeing nod and the laughing look, continuing with the thought I've just had. - Since there's nothing secret on the flash drive, but you keep it to yourself anyway, that means there's information on it. Misinformation.

- Yeah, the pot's boiling after all!

- F-f! - I turn my back to the wall and shut up offended, but I can't stand it and turn round again. - And actually, if she was going to be kidnapped, then I'm not the only one who's so... Ahem...?

- So slow-witted? Well, that's the plan.

Nick toweled herself off and stood next to a wardrobe hidden in a niche.

- You're... You're naked... again... - I look away in embarrassment.

- Well, you seem to like me. Glaze, I'm not sorry. And let's talk on a 'you', because I feel like an old woman.

- I have a girlfriend, by the way! - I'm not quite sure what I'm saying.

- You're strange... - I hear almost above my ear, I involuntarily flinch and turn round. My hope that the colonel would at least put something on himself cracked with a ringing sound. She was standing right up close to me. - It seemed to me that such shy teenagers had long since disappeared as such.

Her scent hit my head, blowing away all shyness and decency like hot water. I examine her. From head to toe. Every nook and cranny of the body before me. But the passion fades quickly. Because now that her body is not hidden by the towel I can clearly see the traces that it keeps from the recent fight. I gently run my hand around the dark blue area just below her ribs on her right side. But the wave of anger at the 'knight' that replaced passion is also rapidly leaving me. Inconsistency scratches my consciousness. I get out of bed and walk round the naked woman, examining her from all sides.

- Only bruises, not a single cut....

- Maybe I was beaten with the flat side of a sword. - Nick pouted and pulled the bedspread off the bed, wrapped herself in it up to her nose.

- If you don't want to tell me, I don't really care. - I hope she didn't recognise the blatant lie. Because I was very curious. I didn't realise Nick Fury had any unusual powers. All I remember is that in the comics he was known for his longevity, but I don't know what that was about.

- It's like-- Well, you've never played with non-Newtonian fluid?

- Oh! So the more exposure, the stronger the skin? - I'm fascinated.

- Damn! You've got the same look as--' Nick hesitated, and she shivered. - Well, a fanatical look. Your eyes were glowing! Well, you're basically right.

- What about the bullets? - I'm greedy.

- Yeah. I prefer not to get hit anyway. My bones aren't that strong. - I nodded understandingly.

I started pacing the room frantically with excitement. This is what prospects open up! But we need experiments! To test different types of impact. Is there even a limit to the strength? At home, I've mixed starch and water a few times, and beat the liquid with my fist. But that's a fist! I've never experimented with a knife or anything sharp. How did I miss that?

- Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Stop it! Put that fanatical flame away! Do I look like a lab mouse?!

- ...I'm looking at the angry, angry woman. - M-ma... I'm sorry. I get that sometimes.

- I've noticed!

- Honestly. I'm sorry. I'll try not to do it again.

- Do me a favour! And Pete, please don't tell anyone about this. Not that it's a secret, but the less people know, the better.

- I will. - I nod grimly. Her words reminded me that my secret identity was no longer a secret. I couldn't help but feel frustrated. - I only have two questions. May I?

- Take a chance. - a little curious.

- First question. What's next?

- What do you mean?

- Well, now S.H.I.E.L.D. knows my real name, and I understand you're actively looking for mutants and the like. What does the service intend to do about me?

- Nothing. - Though she kept a stony expression on her face, but for a second my empathy made it clear - the woman is laughing at me!

- And why should I believe that? - Well, even if she was sincere now, what's to stop the agents from coming to me, say, in a week, and 'asking' for help?

- First you have to decide if you believe me. - Her gaze became very serious.

- What does it matter?

- Do you or don't you?

Breathe, Peter, just breathe.

- Right now, right now, I believe you. - I'm going to admit it with a heavy heart.

- Then keep in mind. S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't know anything about who Spider-Man is. Only me.

- But why? - It's times like this I'm grateful for my abilities, it's nice to know you're not being lied to, that you're being sincere!

- Female curiosity. - Nick Fury smiles embarrassedly. - What's the second question?

- The second...? Oh yes! Hippo who?

- Hippo... hmmm... sorry.

Nick walked over to the table and picked up the phone. It was vibrating, and the same Presley voice was humming softly. Nick frowned, looking at the screen. She paused for a second and brought the phone to her ear. The conversation was brief, and afterwards the colonel looked rather glum.

- Problems? - I asked as delicately as I could.

- Huh? I'm always in trouble, you know. - She smiled absent-mindedly. - That's the job. I need to get away now, too. Are you going to stay here? There's something else I'd like to talk to you about.

- M-ma... tempting, of course, - involuntarily slid a glance at her slender legs, - but I need to reassure my relatives that I'm all right. So I'll take my leave. I just need something to cover my face...

- Well, face is not a problem. - Nick was clearly upset by my answer, but she didn't insist. - Your old mask. - I took it from her hands and pulled it over my head. It made me feel a little calmer. - I'm sorry, but the suit's a little torn or cut. I didn't think you'd come round so quickly. That's why I didn't think of a change of clothes.

Fury herself was quickly dressed in a military-style outfit with no identifying markings that I could see. What about the famous cape? It's an integral part of the wardrobe, isn't it?

Nick was just tidying her hair when a simple melody played in the room. The woman went to the intercom, looked at the small screen, which apparently showed the images from the outside camera. With a quiet, barely audible hiss, the door of the room slid aside. A man in his mid-forties entered from the corridor. Quite a colourful character by the way. Lush well-groomed blond moustache, face covered with wrinkles. Perhaps, he was much older than it seemed from the first time, about a dozen years exactly. His clothes were similar to the ones Nick was wearing. Except that, among other things, he wore a black bowler on his head. He was a little over a hundred and eighty tall. On the one hand, it doesn't seem like much, but the man had a very sturdy build.

- Spider, meet Timothy Dugan. Timothy, this is Spider. - Nick introduced us.

- Just call me Doom-Doom. - His moustache twitched a little, and I belatedly recognised the twitch as a smile. - Here, here's a present.

I was handed a dark polythene bag, with some sort of tube on top.

- There were clothes in the bag. And this,' Nick nodded at the tube, 'is a medicinal ointment. It'll help your cuts heal faster.

- It's good for little scars, too. But it stings like hell, so be careful. Don't put too much on the first time. - the familiar wiggle of the Dum-Dum mustache.

- Spider, could you change in the bathroom?

- Yeah, yeah.' I thoughtfully twirled the tube in my hand. - Secretly, I'll cover my ears with my fingers, and I won't eavesdrop.

My rather thick hint that even from the bathtub I could easily hear even a whisper was not responded to. So be it. Shrugging my shoulders, I proudly departed. Before I got dressed, I needed to see what was wrong with the cuts. And I'd like to unwind my arm from my torso. The fingers are moving, so it's okay. I guess so.

At the same time, I was listening to those spies. They didn't even think to muffle the conversation. The only thing they did was switch to Russian. Yeah.

- If I hadn't known you for so many years, I would have thought you were crazy. - Dum-Dum said with a slight accent. - Giving the boy my name, my real name, please! Even though you've only known the young superhero for a few hours.

- So?

- Nick, you're so hard to talk to sometimes. Do you trust him that much? - a moment of silence. - Yeah. It's obvious. Does he even know Russian by any chance? Cause we're sitting here, two spies, extra class.

- No. Just Japanese and French.

So Nick has a file on Peter Parker. And a very detailed one at that. If I learnt Japanese at school, I learnt French on my own, with the help of the internet alone. And if it is quite easy to find out about the first one, it is only necessary to get my school report card, it is more difficult to find out about French. Of course, I didn't hide the fact that I was learning it, but still....

- So who is he? Don't tell me you don't know. I don't believe you!

- I don't know. - Nick replied in a completely even voice, without a trace of emotion.

- If I hadn't known you all these years.

- I'd be offended. - she finished the sentence for Dum-Dum. - Tell me what the Five want from me.

- An explanation, what else?

- Couldn't you just politely send them away? - a slight twinge of bewilderment.

- Nick, you know...' Dum-Dum hesitated. - I think... they're right. - And then he hastily added. - On this particular occasion!

- Are you saying I deserve a beating? - Nick asked after a few seconds.

- Well, you don't listen to me! - exploded the man. - How many times have I insisted on increasing your personal security detail?! How many times have you just ignored my words?! I am, after all, your deputy! Your security is my first prerogative! What are you doing? Flying to meet the Humvee without any proper backup!

- All right, Doom-Doom. Don't get worked up. I got it. I'm gonna go get a 'legitimate' reprimand. Take care of the kid, okay?

- And that-' the man hesitated again, 'The old man flew in half an hour ago. He's pretty pissed.

I heard a heavy sigh, after which Nick left the room.

The clothes I'd been given looked like overalls. Hardly Special Forces, but something close to the theme. Something similar to what fans of extreme sports, like paintball, probably wear. The clothes included elbow pads, kneepads, back protection with a belt, a face mask, and gloves. Jacket and trousers, obviously. And lightweight boots. The latter I didn't want to put on at first, it would be a loss of freedom of manoeuvre for me. But I changed my mind, as if I was not in enemy territory.

All this suited me, except that the shoes are a bit big, but no problem. The main thing is that there was a lot of protective stuff, and in general I had complete freedom of movement. Shoving the tube of untested medicine into my pocket, I went to see Dum-Dum waiting for me.

- Oh! Are you dressed yet, mate? How's the arm? Does it hurt? - I waved my head in the negative. - It's fine. My scalpel doctors have patched you up and given you some stuff. So soon you won't even remember that anything hurts! But try not to put any more strain on your arm.

- I'll try.

Examining my battle wounds, I noticed that the medical care I received was first class. One could even say that medicine today is not able to provide such quality care. In any case, I would definitely not be able to move my arm on the second day. I know that. You could put it down to my excessive regeneration. But I've learnt its limits and capabilities. Which means what? It means S.H.I.E.L.T. has advanced technology and medical knowledge, too.

Meanwhile, my interlocutor, not stopping to tell me some soldier's tale, led me outside. We came out into a narrow corridor. On either side of the corridor I could see similar doors. All numbered in Roman numerals.

- Are we in some kind of top-secret underground base? - The lack of windows made me a little uneasy. We spiders respect attics more than dank and dark basements. So I interjected into the mustache's cheerful narrative.

- Secret, yes. - said Dum-Dum proudly, and looked round the walls with a masterly eye.

- A cat named Behemoth,' I whispered in a low whisper.

- Excuse me?

- Nick... ahem... Colonel Fury had mentioned that word. Hippopotamus. I didn't realise it at the time, I thought - what does Bulgakov have to do with it? But it turns out it's not a cat at all, it's a military base.

- Ha! I didn't realise young people were interested in the classics, and Russian ones at that.

- I read... - I almost said that at school! - once.

- Heh! I named this little one myself! - said the man proudly. - Just under the impression of 'The Master'.

- You say that as if you were talking about a car. - I'm a little perplexed.

- Well, almost. - Dugan snickers from beneath the wok. - Behemoth is a unique flying aircraft carrier, the second of its kind!

- Liar! - I stop in surprise. Canon - canon, but to believe that now there are really technologies for such a thing was difficult for me.

- Nope. - the man smugly grinds his moustache, as if he was assembling Behemoth himself. - Let me show you something to dispel your scepticism.

Obediently walking next to the stout man, I kept trying to remember at least some device that would allow to hold hundreds, if not thousands of tonnes of metal in the air. Nothing came to mind. As far as I understand, the Behemoth is fundamentally different from all currently known aircraft. It is clear that such developments are not advertised, but in my time I was interested in different scientific ideas, I always followed new patents and searched for old and forgotten ones. As it is known, some people are able to be ahead of the time in which they live, and offer society something unimaginable, something that mankind is not ready for. That's the kind of thing I was looking for. I doubt I would have missed something similar.

Looping in narrow corridors, we met Shch.I.T.A. employees, guys and less often girls saluted my companion and looked at me with carefully concealed curiosity. But nobody was in a hurry to start a conversation. Soon we were at the place. Doom-Doom did something to the panel at the door, and the panel obediently slid aside. Following the invitation, I was the first to step through the doorway. The new room, like everything I'd seen here before, was not large. There was very little free space. There were a dozen people sitting at the obscure machines. When a person is busy, and not fooling around at his workplace, it becomes immediately clear. People behind the equipment were working. No jokes or conversations were heard, only curt words thrown occasionally by one of them or the other. They did not even turn round to see who had come to them. Only one man, whose workplace was a little on high and behind the backs of colleagues, after a moment broke away and looked at us.

- Sir? - he nodded to Doom-Doom.

- Hello again Captain. I'm giving a little tour here,' he nodded in my direction, 'would you mind showing us the panorama?

- Sure. - The man said curtly, and as if he had lost interest in us, he turned back to his screen.

A few moments later, the screens began to flash on the walls, on the ceiling, and even under our feet. A few more seconds and I was looking at the images on dozens of monitors with delight. Of course it's a great idea! It feels like standing in heaven with clouds floating around you.

- The images come from hundreds of video cameras that are located on the fuselage of the aircraft carrier, here they are synchronised and allow you to observe such beauty. - considers it necessary to explain to me Dum-Dum.

- You should have created another room for this. - I'm staring at the pilots' backs. - Empty.

- Eh... - my companion nods in agreement, and I realise that that's exactly what he would have done. - Unfortunately, the designers considered it impossible, or rather too costly. With what difficulty I managed to win back at least this bridge.....

When we had seen and admired the beautiful views of the New York suburbs over which the Behemoth hovered, Dum-Dum asked the pilots to show us the aircraft carrier itself. What can I say? It was somewhat futuristic, but I had a lot of respect for it, especially for its size. Unfortunately, I never got a detailed look at the installations that keep the carrier in the air. I considered it inappropriate to question my companion. If Fury was organising the tour, I could try. Dugan, though he was friendly and cordial to me, was almost always wary inside. Only when he bragged about Behemoth were his emotions sincere.

By the way had a good laugh during the story. On the one hand, it was obvious that Dum-Dum was very proud to be the commander of such a unique aircraft. His desire to brag was very great. I could even guess that he had already bored everyone he could with this kind of talk, so he was now being shunned. And having met an interested listener in my face, his desire to boast increased incredibly. But on the other hand, he could not accurately determine the degree of confidence of his superiors in me, so he could not reveal to me whatever secrets.

- Well? - At last caution prevailed, and he hurriedly finished his story of hunting the kaiju. - Your transport will be ready soon, so we can go.

- Yeah. - I'm a little disappointed, I wish I knew more, of course. Let's go. But wait! My throwers!

- А?

- Well, they had these things on their wrists!

- Oh, right! Sorry, I forgot to give you your stuff! Hang on, I'll check where they've gone and we'll go get them. - Dugan contacted one of his subordinates, and in a minute we were on our way to get my stuff. - We'll just refuel the helicopter and change the pilot, because the poor guy has been travelling between Behemoth and the place of yesterday's mess for a whole day.

As it turned out, someone very 'clever' managed to equate my things to physical evidence. I had to go to the warehouse and reclaim the goodie bags. After thinking for a while, I replaced the trophy boots with my old shoes. Thus restoring my full freedom of action. I put on web throwers, well, old gloves, which were also a bit more comfortable for me, or rather my abilities. I quickly wove some sort of backpack out of the web and threw in the rest of my stuff, which was bloodstained pieces of my suit. Paranoia kicked in.

Dum-Dum had a detached look on his face as he worked out some bureaucratic details that prevented him from just taking the stuff out of storage. Heh, even as a local chief, you can't get rid of formalities so easily!

Throwing my improvised rucksack on my shoulders, I collapsed on some crate, of which there were enough in the warehouse. I waited for my escort to get free. The warehouse manager was too meticulous, and he wouldn't leave us alone. The siren hit my ears, and I looked around, wrinkling my nose at the nasty sound. I wanted to think it was a fire, but my gut told me it wasn't. How could we be so trivial? A loud female voice confirmed my worst thoughts.

- ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL! PERIMETER BREACH! THIS IS NOT A DRILL! I REPEAT.

- Stay here! - Dugan's overriding the siren.

- I can help!

The phrase came out before I could think about it. And I was too late to bite my tongue. It was foolish and reckless to jump into a new fight without fully recovering from the previous one. But the word had been spoken. Dum-Dum, who had already taken the rifle from the warehouse keeper's hands, after a few seconds of brainstorming, accepted my offer.

- Which weapon do you prefer? - Tensely and curtly tosses it to me.

- Fists. - I try to hide my displeasure and answer just as briefly.

- All right, let's go! - We run out of the warehouse doors, Dugan leading us confidently through the corridors, apparently he's being informed somehow. I don't see any headphones on him, but that doesn't mean anything. On the way, we're joined by a few more agents in full armour. Dum-dum was explaining some details on the run. He was mostly talking to me, since the other agents knew how to act. - Try not to kill anyone, disable them, but don't maim them as much as possible. Only if there is a command to work on defeat, then it is possible not to be ceremonious.

Nodding in agreement, I wriggled unhappily beneath my mask. What does he think I am? A professional soldier? Or an assassin? My mood was rapidly going downhill. Soon I could hear the sounds of fighting. And after a few dozen more moments, we reached our destination. The agents accompanying me froze, assessing the situation, and so did I. A fragile, obviously female figure, making astonishing pirouettes scattered the three agents like little kittens. Here she jumped up, avoiding the undercut, and lightly slapped one of the guys with the palm of her hand. Shifts to the side, evading a punch from a third. In those few moments, the agent rewarded with a faint clap sways slightly and immediately settles to the floor.

- Hold your fire! - I hear Doom-Doom's command distantly. - She's unarmed!

The other two agents fall to the floor with the same careless touch. No sooner does the echo of Dugan's order fade than a shot rings out, from another corridor. I go cold. The girl cries out, and as if in slow motion, I see the bullet draw a line on her shoulder. The next shot, and the unknown shooter appears a step away from the girl. With a swift stroke, she throws up her hand, and several scarlet lines appear on the shooter's face. A man with grey hair intercepts the girl's other arm, steps behind her back and rests his muzzle on the back of her head.

But I make it in damn good time! I hit the bottom of her arm, pulling the gun away. My knee makes contact with the shooter's body, and he's blown away by the sheer power of the blow. I put all my rage, all the power I possessed into that blow. The man's flight ended almost immediately, the size of the corridor not allowing more. But his body folded in half and, piercing the plating, lay still. Only a bloody cough showed that the grey-haired man was still alive.

- Hold your fire! - an inconceivably commanding voice cuts through the silence. - Lower your weapons!

If the rage hadn't poured out of me like a demon, and if I'd had a gun, I probably wouldn't have resisted and obeyed.

- Our guest will not attack again! Right!? Spider!? - again, a commanding but familiar voice.

I look round at the pale S.H.I.T. agents, making sure that all of them have lowered their hands with firearms to the floor. By an effort of will I force myself not to react to the pain in my long-suffering arm, the shooter, before getting a knee in my side, somehow unbelievably for me managed to reach me with a bunch of fingers. I don't know what he did. But the pain was hellish. I feel waves of incomprehension and resentment, crushed by the steely will of my superiors. I look at Cat, convinced that her injury was nothing, just a scratch, Felicia had managed to move a little to the side. I feel the wave of panic and disbelief that comes from the blonde, I make a note in my memory to sort out the overly violent and incomprehensible reaction, but that's for later. Only after that do I finally answer Fury.

- Of course. - The rage is still bubbling in my blood, and the words come out with difficulty. - My friend got a little hot-headed, so please forgive her hot-headedness.

Nick turned up just in time and was surprisingly quick to deal with the situation. I'm afraid if she hadn't, there would have been a massacre. Bloody hell, it took a cat to come looking for me! It's my own fault, though. I didn't realise the girl had a beef with S.H.I.E.L.D.

- What about them? - Doom-Doom asked glumly, crouching down beside one of the agents who had fallen from Cat's blow and feeling for a pulse.

- Just unconscious. No big deal, they'll wake up in half an hour. - I recently gave my girlfriend two devices codenamed 'Sting'. An old idea of mine that I've been working on for a while now. These cute devices inject the victim with a cocktail of interesting chemistry and render the person unconscious. It's a very useful thing. I wish I'd bolted them to my throwers, or I'd have done the same. - But this... comrade I would recommend to call the doctors. - I said angrily glaring at the grey-haired gunman, who was still spitting bloody spittle. To hide it, some gloating in my voice slipped.

- It's not easy to send an old man to the other side.

Dugan's voice was neutral, but my senses picked up a touch of contentment from the bowler. The two didn't seem to get along well, or Dugan had some long-standing but petty grudge against, um, the Old Man. It happens. Either way, his words had defused the situation a little, but not a lot. The other agents, too, were confident in the shooter's survivability. Fury completed her colleague's unknowing endeavour. Giving out orders left and right, she quickly loaded the agents with some work.

A quarter of an hour later, the four of us were standing near the helicopter, waiting for the tech team to finish fiddling around it. My mind was racing like crazy, jumping from topic to topic. I couldn't concentrate on one thing at a time. Dugan tried to make conversation, but there was no one to support him, and he quickly deflated and withdrew into himself. I could almost feel his train of thought in my skin. He was already making snide remarks to that shooter. Nick was harder to read, but the melancholy, barely perceptible smile on her lips spoke for itself. The doctors' assurances that the Old Man would be fine had reassured her. And she, if I understand correctly, was glad that, referring to the raised alarm, managed to escape from the cephalopoeia of unknown to me personalities. Another thing to think about, by the way. Fury reports to someone, so does not have full power in the organisation.

Felicia's condition, on the other hand, was frankly terrifying to me. A wild cocktail of emotions did not allow me to clearly define what had happened to her. I can't even guess what could be the reason for her well-being. It's a good thing she was tolerable. She just froze like a statue behind my left shoulder.

- We need to talk. - I threw something distant in the air. - Alone.

In the jumble of thoughts that rattled around in my head, I caught a glimpse of something important. Something that needed to be done here and now. Nick glared at me for a minute, then nodded. Dum-Dum, who had recovered a little, said a brief goodbye and left. Felicia I decided to keep by my side, to avoid m-ma... awkward moments. Nick seemed to take my request a little too seriously. Taking out some kind of device from her pocket, she pressed a few buttons, and then nodded to me. Start talking. Is this some kind of interference generator?

- Some time ago, I managed to overhear a conversation between two individuals working for a certain New York crime boss. The context of the conversation was that their boss had decided to send his man into the sixth interweb.

- I don't think that's a good idea. - Nick smiled weakly, condescendingly. And as if she were a fool, she added. - Believe me, it's not possible. Even if someone succeeds, it's only his delusion.

- Say, Nick. - strangely enough, not even a shadow of the irritation that should, must have flared up in me, did not arise. I cared too much about Felicia's condition to react to Fury's tone. - How long ago did your service target mutants? When did you stop being a conventional crime-fighting organisation? You fought against kaiju against big strong monsters. But how many mutants have you encountered?

- A lot, Spider, a lot. - Nick lowered her head and her fringes hid her face. - But most of them don't have any outstanding and powerful abilities. Some can chew nails without hurting their stomachs, some can change the colour of their nails to save on manicures, some are born with a tail. But people like you, born fighters, are rare.

- That's not what I'm talking about. I'm not talking about strength. You can be a bad fighter, but you can walk through walls.

- No! Nick flinched. - Impossible! We wouldn't miss it!

- You can't be omnipresent if you're not Him. - I calmly interrupted the Colonel.

- Okay. - Nick was silent for quite a while. - Thank you. Sometimes you do have to come down to earth. What else can you say?

- The man who's probably already sent a spy to you is pretty well known in town by the name of Ambal. - slight nod, she knows who that is. - The spy himself is called Chameleon. He can change into other people. That's all.

Actually, of course, there's a lot more I could say. For instance, I could speculate as to the purpose of Ambal's need for the Cossack. But I thought it premature to give my thoughts. Perhaps the next time we meet.

- Okay. And... - Nick hesitated, choosing words. - This is the second time you've helped me.

- Well, in the first case I rather interfered, and now I couldn't tell you too much. - I'm smiling embarrassed, but I can't see under the mask.

- Still, you should know that you can expect favours in return.

What if...? You could definitely try.

- Set me up a meeting with Nemours.

- K-ham... - Nick coughed, wanted to say something obviously unflattering to me, but then abruptly calmed down and nodded. - Okay.

Having exchanged with Nick, for a few more minutes we agreed how we would keep in touch. The devices offered to me I rejected immediately. Nick obviously favours me, and probably won't use the beacon installed in those devices. She already knows who I am, and judging by the thoughtful glances she threw at Felicia a couple of times, she's guessing my friend's identity. She has only two choices, given Peter Parker's social circle. Fury will know for sure by tonight.

In any case, based on my gut, more or less trusting Nick, I could not be equally confident in her staff. No one had ever cancelled the over-initiative. And considering that Felicia's antics, and me, by standing up for her, had clearly left most of the agents on Behemoth unconcerned. I'm sure those employees who were scattered by the cat are probably a little upset. But that's nothing, they may not have the right credentials to mess with us. But that grey-haired gunman, who everyone keeps calling Old Man, obviously has a high position in the hierarchy of S.H.I.E.L.D. That's what worried me. If he can tell Fury off, he can ignore her orders. When he comes to his senses, of course.

I'd given up material means of communication. And we discussed the problem a bit and came up with the idea of using policemen as liaisons. I gave a few names of people I'd dealt with personally, including the likes of Stacey and Gordon. Fury obviously wasn't keen on the idea, but she didn't argue with me for long.

***

New York. OzCorp building.

- Oh, shit!' the man cursed with emotion.

He struggled to straighten himself out, something crunching in his lower back, but it felt better. Who knew this box would be so heavy! Taking out a handkerchief, he wiped the sweat from his forehead and ran a hand through his greasy, short-cropped red hair. After a short rest he set to work again. With a little more effort, the crate slid into the grooves, now all that was left was to push it forward. Opening the cube door, he checked the internal electronics once more. The miniature video cameras were safely hidden behind bulletproof glass. He could only hope that they would work for a few minutes.

As he made his way into the next room, he cringed at the harsh screams. Various kinds of animals hissed, snapped, meowed, barked, clucked and so on and so forth. A miniature zoo of not too big critters.

- It was time for cats. - Norman Osborne said indifferently.

He opened the door of one of the cages and took out a cat, black as night. It looked too deadly, almost unresponsive. Norman remembered that last time he had forgotten to feed his zoo, and the time before that, too, it seemed. Should have been concerned about that after the experience.

Returning to the metal box, the man stuffed the cat in there and closed the door. Walking to his workstation, he brought up the images from the video cameras on the monitors. What happened next was simple. Controlling the manipulator the man pulled out a box in the centre of the hermetically sealed room. He pressed a few keys and a green mist filled the room. The crate was not airtight and allowed the mist to flow freely.

The black cat twitched, its body bouncing with powerful convulsions. His ear, torn off in an old street fight, was growing back rapidly, his fur crumbling away and thick bone needles sprouting in its place. The paws lengthened and acquired razor-sharp sickles of claws, the tail was covered with scales, and at its very tip appeared a bone sting.

The cat, or not quite a cat anymore, came to life; it was thrashing frantically inside the box, its claws leaving deep furrows in the metal. Suddenly he froze on the spot, the muscles clearly visible under his skin increased by an order of magnitude, and in the next minute some of the needles that replaced his old fur shot into the walls. Punching through them as they flew out they lodged themselves in the walls of the room. The stinger on its tail made a hole of even greater diameter.

Norman watched the scene mesmerised. Most of the hidden video cameras were out of order, but some of them were still working.

It seemed a little more and the fearsome creature that used to belong to the family of cats would burst out. But a couple of seconds passed and the cat's front left paw exploded, hypertrophied muscles could not withstand critical loads. Soon the foul green acid that the cat's salivary glands had begun to produce had eaten through the cat's own jaws. A few more seconds and the cat died.

- Second to second...' whispered Norman glumly. - No progress! Shit!

Only bloody spiders could tolerate the Oz serum. But spiders were the exception, the only species that didn't react to it. Nothing at all.

- Another failure, Mr Osborne.

The man shuddered. Behind him, a middle-aged woman sat in a wheelchair. The brunette smiled, adjusting the plaid on her legs, and regarded the scientist with interest.

- Who are you? How did you get in here? Who let you in?

- Hush. Hush, Mr Osborne. There's no need to be nervous. - the woman's voice was enveloping, it made you listen to her. - I'm your friend. That's enough. Believe me, you and I have the same interests, Mr Osborne.

- Let's say we do. What next? - He wanted to say something else, but his body and mind wouldn't listen.

- Would you like some advice? Good advice. You shouldn't have gone into business, Mr Osborne. You're a brilliant scientist and a poor manager. Hire good people and concentrate on your project.

The woman stopped talking, something violet glinting in her eyes for a second.

- Well. It was only advice anyway. You don't want it, you don't have to use it. - Madame Web was silent for a moment. And when she turned to her interlocutor again, the power in those words increased by an order of magnitude. - But I would still like to help you, Mr Osborne. Listen to my words.

Half an hour later, the wheelchair rolled out of the cloud of violet haze, still in the same room, but a few floors below. The woman wrinkled her nose, she wasn't going to stay here any longer than she had to. With a gesture of her hand, the purple mist travelled through the large spider-only terrarium, making a hole in the glass. Once inside, it enveloped all the critters that lurked there. Too bad she couldn't kill those nasty creatures. Her power was very limited after all. But she could make sure that no more human spiders appeared in the world. After all, the world only needed one hero.

- Run away. Scatter to the Burrows of the creatures!

The powers Master had so generously given her recently were not unlimited. They must be spared. She's already accelerated her previously planned multi-pronged combination.

***

The cold wind felt unpleasant through her clothes. The sound of the helicopter blades working was ear-splitting. Through the open door you could see a marvellous picture of the big ant hill below.

- Sir!' the pilot tried to shout over the wind, and pointed to his headphones. He pulled them on, and at once it became much quieter, now the pilot's voice sounded clearly. - Sir! Where am I going?!

I stuck my head out of the doorway and looked down, quickly orientated myself to the area we were flying over. Well, that's pretty much it. I can't tell him my home address, can I?

- I think we're here! Thanks for the lift! Have a nice trip. - I wave to the pilot, and I shout to Felicia. - Hold on to me tight!

But she can't hear or understand me. So I pick up the blonde and jump out of the chopper. I'm wrapped around her neck, allowing me to free at least one arm.

A few minutes later we land on an open green terrace. It's too early for parties and so the terrace is empty. Pulling back a chair, I plopped down on it exhaustedly. After a second's hesitation, the cat settled down on the table in front of me. Putting her leg over her leg, arching her back, tilting her head, she was very seductive even now in her impersonal costume with her face covered. I listened to her. That fear and incomprehension, that stupor that had recently enveloped her, were gradually fading away. They were replaced by longing.

- What happened to you? - I couldn't stand the silence.

- What makes you think that? - an indifferent voice. - I'm fine. Just the usual.

- Come on, Cat, I can see everything!

- It was him. - The girl whispered in a low whisper. - My father. And he wanted to kill me.