The Brooklyn Bridge stood tall in the skyline of New York City, now covered in a light snow as the threatening clouds overhead allowed the beginning of the inevitable storm that always seemed to claim the north. The Brooklyn Bridge was one of the oldest suspension bridges in the United States, stretching nearly six thousand feet over the East River--the river that the SAFE Helicarrier just happened to hover over twenty-four/seven, unless there was need to change position. After all, SAFE was an international organization. Who knew what went on in the rest of the world?
The Brooklyn Bridge, the place where Colonel Sean Morgan had insisted on allowing an aircar to pick Spider-Man up, was also the site of his biggest heartache: Gwen Stacy.
As Spider-Man remembered his first true love, he could picture her lushing blonde hair, her glowing eyes, her perfect smile. He had loved Gwen Stacy like he had loved no other woman before, and the night that she was pronounced dead haunted him more than anything. He saw himself try to save her, trying to catch her with a webline as she tumbled from the top of the bridge. He remembered the satisfaction, the relief, of knowing that it had caught her. He saw himself reeling her in, as her captor, the Green Goblin, soared on his glider. He saw her face, and he remembered his heart broke. He could still feel her cold corpse as he cradled her close, rocking her back and forth with tears running from his eyes as he repeatedly told Gwen that she could not be dead. But she was, and she was gone.
He sat on top of the very pillar of the bridge that she had fallen from, ignoring the cold and staring down at the rushing water where she had fallen, when a flying aircar belonging to SAFE descended from the sky above. Special Agent Dough Deely, a tall, bold black man, was the pilot, and Spider-Man's chosen escort. He, of course, recognized the events that had taken place at the Brooklyn Bridge, and considered apologizing when Spider-Man jumped inside the hovering car. The car's shield kept the temperature inside relatively warm, and Spider-Man enjoyed the break from the freezing cold the latest snow storm had decided to bring.
"Hiya, Deels. Long time no see." Spider-Man said, dusting himself of the thin white coting the snow had created while falling on his costume. Spider-Man didn't turn around until a second later, when he saw that the agent was saluting him. Spider-Man was not used to receiving respect, and was taken back by this gesture. At a temporary loss of what do to, he snapped a salute back.
"Nice going, Webhead. But I'm afraid it doesn't really work, not coming from you. Not in that outfit."
Spider-Man was amazed that people like Doug Deely who wore a skin tight blue battle suits to work everyday found his costume looked funny. Embarrassed, he said: "Sorry. I guess I'm not really used to gestures like that."
"On the record," Deely said, leading him down another narrow passageway, "you're not supposed to get any. You're an unknown rouge, not to be trusted—or so says the government."
Instantly he thought of the last ten times he'd saved the world. No, forget the world. How about just the city? "Oh good. I was starting to think someone up there likes me." He said with practiced sarcasm.
"Keep in mind that this is the same government that worries about what the headlines will be the next morning, and you're not exactly beloved by the press." This being a reference to J. Jonah Jameson of the Daily Bugle, who had blamed Spider-Man for everything from street crime to global warming. "However," Deely continued. "Off the record, there are plenty of guys who remember how many times you've laid yourself out on the line for us. Here, at least, you're considered one of the good guys."
"I'm touched." Spider-Man said, meaning it, since he still wasn't used to being appreciated.
They turned down another narrow passageway and passed a team of agents escorting a seven-foot chained…something…that narrowed its eyes at Spider-Man and wondered how he'd taste. Deely showed no signs of wanting to explain the origin of this thing, and Spider-Man knew far too well it would be long and complicated, so he'd didn't bother asking. The agents escorting it nodded at Deely and Spider-Man, so casual in their reaction to their super-powered visitor that Spider-Man wondered if there were codes against making a double-take.
Deely came to an office. He knocked on the open door and said, "Colonel, I just brought your latest from the shuttle from the bridge. You have time for him?"
Colonel Morgan looked up from his mess of papers scattered on his big desk and nodded. "I can give him twenty minutes. Hello, Spider-Man."
"Colonel." Spider-Man greeted, jumping onto a wall and crouching mid-way. Deely smiled again at Spider-Man and shut the door. Spider-Man, who was not used to dealing with authority types, said, "See they're keeping you busy."
Morgan held a paper in his hand. "No more than usual. Have a chair." He told him, motioning at the black chair that sat before his desk.
Spider-Man, who was perfectly comfortable crouching on the wall, said, "No thanks, that's okay."
"No, it's not. It's just me and you, and there's no reason you're clinging to the wall, showing off for no reason."
Spider-Man replied: "I'm not showing off Colonel, honest. I'm just more comfortable this way."
"All right. As long as you're not making anymore damned jokes this time."
Spider-Man cocked his head. "After the way you've reacted in the past, I wouldn't dare."
Morgan seemed to appreciate that. His straight-lined mouth almost seemed to come a few millimeters of smiling. Almost. Colonel Sean Morgan was not a colorful, easy-going, likeable fellow, and he didn't try to be any of the three. He was strictly a professional, who never allowed anything—even the slightest ounce of humor—to come between him and his duty.
Morgan nodded and said: "Actually, I should give you credit on the fast response time. I didn't even expect you to hear the news until later."
"What news?"
"The breakouts?"
"What breakouts?"
Morgan rubbed his forehead. "You're beginning to give me a headache, Spider-Man. You're saying you don't know?"
"Know what?"
"I thought you got my message."
Spider-Man shrugged. "I would say what message if I didn't think you'd belt me."
Morgan's straight lined mouth was in danger of curving downwards. "Let's get on the same page here. A few hours ago I made contacting you a priority. Failing that, I thought the breakouts would prompt you to come seek me out. Do you honestly mean that your visit is just a coincidence?"
Spider-Man shrugged again. "I'm afraid so, Colonel. I wanted to see you anyway. What's up?"
"He doesn't know," the Colonel told the wall. "He doesn't know." Grimacing, he said, "All right, Spider-Man. I'm glad you came anyway. We have a situation on our hands, and I don't doubt that you'll be in the middle of it."
"I always am." Spider-Man said, coming very close to a smart remark. The Colonel did not do smart remarks.
"Okay," Morgan sighed. "Let's start with the basics..."