Chapter 2: It's Not a Fashion Statement, It's a Deathwish
"I'm coming back from the dead and I'll take you home with me
I'm taking back the life you stole—
This hole you put me in wasn't deep enough
And I'm climbing out right now
You're running out of places to hide from me
When you go, just know that I will remember you.
If living was the hardest part, we'll then one day be together—"
My Chemical Romance, "It's Not a Fashion Statement, It's a Fucking Deathwish"
afternoon, phoebus general hospital
Mary Jane hovered at her aunt's bedside as the doctor limped into the room, heavily leaning on his cane. "Dr. Blake!" she shouted at him. "What's wrong with her?"
Dr. Blake just sighed. "I'm sorry to tell you this, Mary Jane. Your aunt has been diagnosed with cancer."
"No!" Mary Jane cried. Things were supposed to be status quo! She was supposed to be enjoying herself, starting college! She was supposed to live a halfway normal life! Not being haunted by the ghost of her dead archenemy and wondering how long her aunt was going to live!
"How—how long does she have?"
"Well, even though we caught it fairly early, it's still spreading very fast. I'm going to be honest with you—a month. Two at most."
Mary Jane put her head in her hands and sobbed, but she could hear Octavius' ruthless laughter...
"You bring only sorrow and death to everyone you touch, Spider-Woman! Perhaps your loved ones would be better off if you would only extricate yourself from their lives!"
But Dr. Blake's face softened. "Unless—"
Mary Jane looked at him, her eyes filled with blazing hunger and the need for a flash of hope, no matter how slight. "Unless what?"
Dr. Blake stroked his chin in thought. "I've been seeing studies on the internet lately about a new form of chemotherapy they're working on."
"Tell me more!"
"Well, ISO-36 is highly experimental of course. But if it works, it works by resetting the affected tissue at the genetic level. There are certain differences between a cancer cell and a normal cell. The medicine works by acting as a genetic filter...it basically resets the genes regulating tissue growth so the cancer cells turn normal."
"Where can I get it? I'll work two jobs, I'll do anything, Dr. Blake. Please, she's the only relative I really have left."
"They're reaching the stage for clinical trials now, I believe," said Blake, bending over his laptop. "There should be a shipment coming in from Cal Polytech. I'll email them, asking for first dibs on it. It sounds like it should work quite well on your aunt's type of cancer."
Mary Jane's face hardened. "Send the letter. I'll come up with the money."
"I'll come up with the money somehow," she said, with absolutely no clue as to how to get that kind of money!
Mary Jane shook her head. Well, I have to maintain a halfway normal routine...might as well get to the college and arrange all of that crap.
late afternoon, empire state college
After the orientations and various introductions to college life, Mary Jane was relieved that out of all the crowds of freshmen at Empire State, there were at least two familiar figures. Liz Allan had run up to MJ, nearly smothering her in a hug. Grateful to see her old friend, MJ squeezed her back, then remembered that she had superhuman strength. But today, something seemed different. Flash Thompson was no longer the egotistic hotshot he once was. He stood straighter, his arm was bound in a sling, and he wore a military dress uniform. They were both accompanied by a tawny-skinned beauty in loose clothing, a long headscarf wrapped around her head.
"Owww!" Liz yelped. "You're gonna crack my ribs!"
When Liz recovered, she introduced—and reintroduced—Mary Jane to her friends with her usual boundless enthusiasm. "You remember Flash, don't you?"
"Come on!" Flash cut in. "Remember? Mad crush on Spider-Woman?"
"Oh yeah," Liz snapped. "You still Spider-Woman's Number One Fan?"
Flash just grinned. "And how! I'm wearing my Webheads t-shirt under my uniform! Now that I'm a civilian in college, I have a larger pool of fans to recruit! Hey, you wanna see my war wounds?"
Liz just sighed and rolled her eyes. Evidently, she had obliged many times before. "Wow. You went to Iraq, got yourself shot, and got shipped home on honorable discharge."
"You know Flash," Mary Jane added, "you really ought to change from that uniform. You're too pretty to have rotten tomatoes thrown at you. And being seen in that might, you know, hinder your Webheads recruiting efforts."
Flash shrugged. "Okay. Still, MJ, I'd like you to meet Sultaana. She comes from Baghdad and decided to come to America for her education."
Sultaana just blushed and nodded.
Liz gave her the stink-eye. "Hey Flash," she said, "Why don't you go show Sultaana the wonders of the American university? Give her the old grand tour?"
Flash saluted her, then slipped an arm around Sultaana's shoulders to lead her away. "I'll give it the old college try!"
"So," Liz said, turning to Mary Jane, "now that we're both single girls again—you could be my dorm roomie!"
MJ sighed. "I don't know. My aunt was just diagnosed with cancer, she's in the hospital..." Not to mention the small matter of me being, what was it, a superhero with a secret identity?
"Come on, it'll be fun. Look, if she's staying at Phoebus General, it's like five blocks away from the college. You could visit her anytime you wanted to! Just move in by next Monday! That'll give you the whole weekend to pack your stuff!"
"Well, okay," MJ agreed. I'm going to need a friend during these times.
Not to mention a job, and money...
morning, watson residence
MJ hunched over her keyboard, surfing straight to craigslist. She opened her closet, stared at the harness. Stared at the very weapons that had killed her beloved.
Well, the damned things are useful enough. Somebody's sure to pick them up.
MJ thought it over. She probably should keep the arms. They'd helped her defeat Venom, after all. But she shook the thought out of her head.
No, I can't keep them. They remind me of Peter every time I look at them.
Not only that, I need the money. I need my aunt.
Setting the price to three thousand dollars—an eminently reasonable price, she'd seen cars go on that website for less—she typed in her email address and her cellphone number for contact information.
But even that won't be enough to pay my half of the rent as well as pay for the ISO-36. I mean, a dorm at Empire State's Stanley Lieber Memorial Wing isn't free room and board at the Baxter Building.
Hell, that alien princess is probably sleeping in my room there now.
Time to get a job.
And suddenly, an idea so brilliant as to be worthy of the scheming mind of Octavius himself came to her.
early evening, daily bugle headquarters
"Coffee! Where's my coffee?!" MJ could hear the shouting of J. Jonah Jameson from across the room even without the benefit of spider-hearing. According to the office grapevine, Jameson's already less than amiable disposition had only been worsened by the tragic murder of his beloved only son, John.
Hoffman, Jameson's executive assistant—or better put, gofer— raced up expertly balancing a grande cup of Starbucks. "Your coffee, sir—decaf."
Meanwhile, she seemed to have caught the eye of a young reporter, tall and blonde. He extended his hand. "Ned Leeds. Pleased to meet ya."
She shook his hand. "Mary Jane Watson. I'm a photographer. Hopefully."
"You want to meet me for lunch sometime?"
"Well, it's only been two weeks since my ex dumped me for another chick, and..."
"Same here. I was dating Betty Brant from payroll—" he indicated her with his pencil— "but it never worked out."
MJ's smile brightened. "Still other fish in the sea, right?"
Jameson, well nourished with coffee, had finally taken notice of them. "Alright already! What is this, a speed-dating meeting? Leeds, out!" Turning to Mary Jane: "Who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing here?"
"Well since you asked so nicely..." Mary Jane withdrew a portfolio out of her messenger bag. "Would you like some nice pictures of that menace Spider-Woman?"
Jameson nearly dropped his cigar, snatching the pictures from her. "These are pretty good. Haven't seen Spider-Woman photos this good since the late Parker."
"Does that mean—"
"As long as you have more of that where it came from, you have a job!" Jameson paused. "But I always wondered...how did Parker do it? And are you using the same technique?"
Mary Jane just smiled. "Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies."
But remembering, she sighed and added, "Parker was my friend. He taught me all I know."
And I mean that in more ways than you'll ever know, Jameson.
She walked out of the room, waving to Ned with a new confidence. "I'm Mary Jane Watson—and I'm definitely a photographer."
late evening, watson residence
Mary Jane was packing the last of her belongings when she heard the knock on the door. She threw it open, to reveal a tall but heavy woman about her own age, dressed in a pink sweatsuit. Before the quirk of fate that threw a radioactive spider on her hand, Mary Jane would have been repulsed by her. But remembering her nerdy Peter Parker, she now always made it a point to look for the hidden beauty in others to lessen her pain at fighting her way through this dark and gritty world. Even though the figure was nothing to speak of, MJ thought, the lady had really pretty wavy golden hair, and her eyes resembled two priceless emeralds trapped in a dirty, cluttered box. In her case, the phrase, "But you have such a pretty face" wouldn't be a lie. Mary Jane smiled and extended her hand. "Uh, hi, I'm Mary Jane Watson."
The heavy girl smiled and shook the proferred hand. "I'm Angelina Brancale. I'm here about your craigslist ad," she said.
Whoa, I never got her email...
Then again, I haven't had the chance to check my email today...
And why in hell is my spidey-sense going off? This fat girl can't be any danger to me.
It's the ghost of Octavius, fucking with my mind again, she concluded.
"Oh! The arms! Well, they're right here in the cardboard box," Mary Jane replied. Unaware of Angelina's intense emerald eyes watching her as she wrote her check, Mary Jane picked the box up with one hand and tossed it in Angelina's general direction. "Might I ask—just for morbid curiousity, why you want them?"
Angelina merely smiled again, and offered the answer Mary Jane had earlier given to Jameson:
"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies!"