I grit my teeth. My nerves were frayed. I was on the verge of blacking out from sheer pain.

Above me towered a man with white hair, cackling maniacally – ready to explode.

Yes, you got that right – ready to explode. The man standing above me was the supervillain Nitro, who got his kicks blowing up things using nothing else but his own body.

And unfortunately, his next target was me. He had just finished saying his goodbyes, and was about to explode, when an idea clicked in my head. It was a desperate idea, but I had little choice at this point.

From the corner of my eye, I quickly eyed the large yellow rock that glowed next to me, a material that had been the source of all my problems to date, and which I also should point out, was still a complete mystery to me. It had caused me much pain simply by being around it, yet at the same time, it offered somewhat of a healing factor to me and my accursed clone degeneration.

And then, as Nitro began fading away, I knew what I had to do. In moments, he would re-appear in the form of an explosion, most likely taking me in the blast and probably killing me. As he grinned, resembling the Cheshire Cat while dissipating, I suddenly reached out with my right hand and immediately fused my Mark into the rock.

It caught Nitro off guard, but it was too late as there was nothing he could do about it.

Suddenly, the explosion came. Heat overtook me, and within moments, everything went to black.

….

"Insanity, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder, Peter..."

I threw a few more punches before ultimately being outmaneuvered, and then I threw the taxicab at the red and blue blur that had been wisecracking and in general mocking me, seeming completely callous to my predicament.

I needed the cure for my illness. Ryder was the only solution for it, and my..."counterpart"...was in the way.

….

I stood tall, choking the freak, who had cheated me out of a cure for this curse of mine...this degeneration. As I heard his neck snap, I grinned, satisfied that even if I could not be cured, this fraud who had attempted to use me for his own machinations had now paid the ultimate price.

…

I looked at Peter. "Run. Run and screw the rest."

…

I clutched at the wounds in my body, knowing my time was fading. I knew it was over, though. This was finally the end. I was about to die, without having achieved the cure. But at least I had died for a noble cause...I had saved my "brother"...

…

I opened my eyes and breathed.

Was this heaven? Hell? Something else?

I looked around, surveying the area.

The rock was gone.

Nitro had disappeared.

Then, I noticed black marks close to where I lay. I managed to stagger up, and looked at the ground. A huge black charred circle was on the ground where I had been lying, for God-knew how long. The mark didn't extend any further than around my immediate person, but smoke continued to come from the concrete.

As I raised my hand to dust myself off, I paused for a moment and looked closely at my hand. For a moment, I thought there might have been some soot on my hand, and I quickly dusted off the whiteness.

Or at least, I tried. Because nothing happened.

And that's when I began to look at the rest of my body. The scars were...gone.

I touched my face...gone.

What if...

I ran to the closest window that was still intact, and looked at my face. What I saw startled me.

Peter Parker's face looked right back at me, wearing a look of surprise. The hair was still long, the beard was still grimy and crust-filled, and my height was still more than his, but otherwise, I now resembled my "template" exactly.

With no clone degeneration apparent, either.

I nearly collapsed from shock when I realized what had happened.

This can't be real...I thought as I came to grips with my altered appearance.

Somehow, some way, the explosion, combined with my fusing the Mark on the mysterious rock, had caused this.

A complete reversal and apparent cure of my clone degeneration.

On the verge of death, I had not only survived, but had somehow been saved.

I wanted to celebrate, but wasn't sure what to do. As I looked at my clothes, dusting them off and realizing I'd probably need to get some new ones, I suddenly heard a low moan coming from off in the distance. As I moved away from the blast site, I saw the leather-clad woman lying face down on the concrete. She looked badly burnt, her costume torn in certain areas.

For a moment, I considered just leaving her there. It would be sweet revenge for the way the world had shown apathy and disgust towards me.

But in the end, my humanity won out. I rolled her over and picked her up. She tried opening her eyes and smiled when she looked at me. "P-p-Peter?" she asked weakly.

My eyes widened. This woman knew him? Ugh. I didn't want to get involved in a situation like that.

As I said nothing, I leapt in the air after making sure no one was around.

Or at least, I tried. I fell back down to earth, catching the now-dozing form of the woman.

Well, this is interesting. So now it appeared my powers were gone too.

Inconvenient? Yes. In the long run, could this actually be a good thing? Oh hell yes. The memories I had from my template recalled numerous occasions where I had wished my powers to just go away.

If I really had gotten past the degeneration, and on top of it if I was now just a normal human being, it would be perfect – presuming I changed my lifestyle and location, which would be easy.

Completing my vows? Might be a little harder without any special abilities.

But for now, my mind turned back to the present. I decided the best course of action would be to just walk it out, take a bus, or something else. Before leaving, I surveyed the deserted area.

No bodies were present, so I assumed most of those in the area had been able to get away before any explosion. A few small fires burned around the area, but there was no major damage to any building. It would have been easy to take this woman to my new employer, Wyckoff, as I had just walked out, but my experience with the goons that had tried to shoot me told me it'd probably be best to take her elsewhere if she needed any sort of serious treatment. Eerily, no one had come by to bring assistance after the explosion. This truly was a dump if law enforcement could not be bothered to come to the scene.

I headed for the subway. It was late evening now, which meant I'd get a few strange looks, but nothing out of the ordinary for New York, while carrying the unconscious/sleeping woman (whose name I still didn't know, I might add).

Eventually, I came upon another hospital in a significantly better part of town, inconspicuously made my way to the street, and then got her checked in and paid the bill and left. I privately wondered if my altered looks had given me some sort of altruism mentally as well, but I didn't dwell on it for long as I headed back home.

Unfortunately, that wasn't to be the case the next day.

./././

24 hours later, I was in full swing at Wyckoff, cleaning up an empty medical research lab, when I noticed an open window in the lab.

Odd. This was the 30th floor. They had to be nuts, but maybe there was a reason for-

A coughing noise interrupted me as I was about to close the window, and I saw movement from the corner of my eyes.

I turned my head to the direction of the commotion, startled for a moment, and found the beneficiary of my altruism sitting on a windowsill, cross-legged a la Sharon Stone. For a moment, I looked at her.

To be honest, I probably gawked at her.

She was wearing a playfully low-cut black sweater that contrasted marvelously with her platinum blonde hair, sunglasses pulled up against her hair. She also wore a leather miniskirt, with black boots that went up to her knees. In the middle of filing her nails, she stopped, put her hand to her mouth in apology, and smiled brilliantly at me. My knees buckled.

Damn.

"Can't let a girl thank her hero...Kaine?" she purred, hopping off the windowsill and approaching me. "The name's Felicia Hardy. I go by the alias of the Black Cat – supposed to be a secret, but I guess I can trust you with that information."

What? Why does she trust me? How does she know my-

As if she heard my thoughts, she answered. "Don't worry...I've seen you in the news, and I have to say I've always been intrigued." The woman known as Felicia now stood directly in front of me. "But yeah, I wanted to say thank you formally. So I guess this means you won't mind then, if I do this..."

As she trailed off, she leaned in, and her smell was absolutely intoxicating, as she kissed me on the cheek. My head swirled, overwhelmed, as she was now within inches of me. She smirked, somewhat amused at the impact she was having on me.

Oh yeah?

Without warning, I grabbed her and pulled her face to mine, locking her in a passionate kiss. For a moment, she was surprised, and then she returned the kiss with equal ferocity. After that, things ramped up. Doors were locked, curtains were pulled down, clothes flew off, and for the next few hours I thanked my stars that I was the only one on duty that evening, as pure lust took over and I became quite occupied with receiving her thanks – so to speak.

After about the fourth or fifth round of "thanksgiving," as we lay intertwined on a reclining chair, Felicia ran a long nail across my chest.

"Your degeneration...it's healing awfully quickly. In fact, I'd bet it's gone with the way it looks."

I cringed at that statement, as I looked away, not wanting to think about what I had done the previous night.

Yesterday, after coming back home from work and looking in the mirror, I had taken a razor to my face and made cuts all over, imitating my former scars. The reason?

If I was going to continue on with this quest of mine, even without my abilities (which I had noted had also gone completely absent, short of my premonitory skills), I could not really resemble my template, and the problem was that after the incident with Nitro - even with the beard - I looked way too much like Peter Parker (even though yes, technically I was him). And so, like I had in the past, I had taken matters into my own hands.

But wait—how did she know about my degeneration? I quickly asked her.

She smiled. "Well, I guess I used to be...uh, pretty good friends with your 'template,' Mr. Parker..."

"WHAT?" I roared, pushing her off the chair and grabbing my clothes, quickly getting back in them.

Then it clicked.

This woman, Felicia Hardy, had to have been one of Peter's old flames...and when she saw a clone of Peter, willing, available, and easy to manipulate, through me she could live vicariously and have one more romp with him, so to speak. After all, now, I even resembled him.

And now it made sense, why she was so cavalier about revealing her identity...whatever it was she did as a superhero. God, she was sick. I felt used beyond belief, and I seethed as I towered over her, all my attraction having disappeared.

Felicia held up a hand. "Wait. Wait." she said, quickly jumping up, walking past me and sliding into her own garments. "Look...I'll admit, part of the reason why...at least on my end...I was happy to spend the last few hours doing what we did...was because yes, you are Peter. To some extent...and I miss him. I miss what I used to have with him. A lot."

Then she pointed an accusatory finger at me, as she grabbed her sweater. "But hey...my plan was just to kiss you on the cheek, say thank you, and head out. You were the one who escalated." She smirked at me again. "So there."

As Felicia began tying her boots back on, she shook her head. "Anyway, I can see you have some issues to work out still, so this probably won't work beyond the little jaunt we had here. So I'll let you deal with these problems. But if you need anything else, you can give me a call." She pulled out a card from her purse and left it next to my equipment. As she headed to the door, she stopped to look back at me for a long moment, then shook her head and went on her way, walking out of the lab.

For a while, I sat on the reclining chair, unsure what to do next. After a while, I got up and picked up the card and pocketed it. I then headed to my equipment, ready to continue the cleanup work, when I accidentally knocked the mop over, which in turned knocked over a paper-holder that housed several manila files.

I immediately grabbed the files, frantically trying to ensure nothing was altered and out of place, when suddenly, it happened just as I touched the folders.

I see.

"She's yours," the defeated woman said, handing me the infant. "My life just took a different path after today. I can't be responsible for this child anymore. So do what you will with her."

I see.

I snapped out of it, and shuddered.

Well, the powers were gone, but those damned precognitive visions were still there. What was this one all about?

As I replayed what I had just seen in my mind, I suddenly looked closer at a file that had fallen out of the folder.

Fisk, Vanessa.

Cancer.

I quickly recalled the vision, and stifled a gasp. In the vision I had just seen, she had been handing me a child, in this very building.

And then I knew what I had to do. Tomorrow morning, I needed to be in that lobby when she arrived.

As I put the files back, and proceeded to finish up the rest of the work for the night, I was surprised that an assumed name wasn't used. It signaled one of two things—either there were actually high-class, expensive doctors working here (doubtful) or that an element of desperation was involved (very likely with the Fisk family always on the go).

Either way, the next day we were going to chat, and if the vision held (which they always did, so far), I would be one step closer to clearing all my unpaid debts.

On the way home, while reflecting on the vision, I remembered I had seen something else while I had been blacked out. I tried to think about whether it was connected to what I had just seen, with Vanessa, but I couldn't remember any of the details, which was odd. All I remembered was a sensation as though I was on Earth, but a radically different version of it, where somehow, things were completely different.

Almost as if, for a moment, I had glimpsed an alternate reality.

Nah. Snap out of it, I told myself.

./././

The next morning, I sat in the lobby, wearing sunglasses and this time having armed myself with a gun. The powers had still not returned, and it seemed that save for the visions, they might be completely gone. Which as I said before, was fine with me. I just needed to be prepared in case idiots tried to harass me again – therefore, I brought the gun.

Around 10 AM, she walked in with the child, and I made myself scarce, playing the role of the homeless bum in tattered clothing. Hopefully she didn't recognize me.

At least, not right away.

I pretended to be asleep, but watched the scene play out in its entirety. She seemed confident and bold, threatening the receptionist, and finally getting admittance. I waited through the hour, and knew that she was probably learning her fate at that very moment. Sure enough, at around 11, she walked back out of the lobby, looking defeated, stunned, and dazed.

She sat down a few seats away from me, and that was when I made my move.

I stood up and walked in front of her.

For a moment, she was oblivious, and then she looked up at me. She didn't gasp. Apparently, she must have still been in shock.

"Kaine," she said, emotionless. "I suppose you're here to mock me."

"No, just trying to continue our conversation from Italy," I said. "Being an employee of this facility, I happened to learn of your condition. I'd hope you want to reconsider now?"

For a moment, she looked back at the infant she was holding, sleeping soundly. She smiled sadly. Then she turned back to me.

"She's yours," the defeated woman said, handing me the infant. "My life just took a different path after today. I can't be responsible for this child anymore. So do what you will with her."

And there's the vision, I thought. Still batting 1.000. I gingerly grabbed the baby, and was struck by how much of a perfect mix she was of Mary Jane and Parker – she had the mother's auburn hair, and the hazel eyes of the father. I privately wondered if she'd come to possess her father's powers, but that was irrelevant for now.

I looked back at Vanessa. I could have left, but something about her intrigued me. Had this been a week ago, while I was still suffering from the degeneration, I would have envied her, a woman having been given a death sentence, and eventually having an end to all the pain.

But now, after the "cure," I pitied her, and could only try and empathize. I sat down next to her.

"What are you going to do now?" I asked, genuinely curious.

She looked at me, her eyes void of any enthusiasm. "Don't give me any line about there still being hope, or that I have something to live for. You of all people should understand," she commented.

I remained silent. It would have been adding insult to injury if I told her my degeneration was gone. So I let her think it still existed, and hoped the scars did a good enough job selling it.

She then smiled, but it was not a genuinely happy expression. "What am I going to do? I'm going to make the man who put me through years of misery pay for it. I have nothing to lose now anyway."

I nodded. Casually, I asked her how. "Are you going to kill him? If you need someone to do it, let me handle it for you. You should get your rest, instead of-"

"No!" she yelled, before calming down immediately. "No. I'm not going to kill him." She put her head in her hands and moaned. "Besides, blood is already on my hands. I killed my own son. My own flesh and blood!"

I remembered the death of Richard Fisk, and knew that had been a turning point in this woman's life.

She collected herself, and looked back up at me. "No...I took this child in because I wanted to start over. I guess it wasn't destined to be," she said. "And now, I'm a miserable wreck, heading for death. But you asked me, what am I going to do?"

She smiled bitterly. "I am going to die, but I'm going to make him suffer. I'm going to destroy him mentally, just like he did to me. Surely you, of all people, can understand that."

I thought about it for a moment. Could I understand? Especially in this "reformed" state, was I still capable of sympathizing with someone in this state of misery? I recalled the way I used to think about Reilly. I knew I was going to die, but I always craved, more than anything else, taking Ben to death right with me. It wasn't fair that he had happiness while I suffered.

But now, I realized just how hopeless I truly had been. In our last meeting, Ben had given me motivation to live, and to redeem myself. I had been born a twisted mockery of a man, but Reilly, who had gone through almost the same thing, had shown me how to live, and inspired me to turn my own life around. The physical element was just the cherry on the top.

I finally answered her, as I stood up to leave. "I don't agree," I said, walking away with the sleeping May. "But yes. I understand."

I never saw Vanessa Fisk again.

6 months later

I sat in the coffee shop, reading the headlines, and waiting.

Things had been going surprisingly well. I had somehow managed to raise the child and support her on the stash of money that I now found to be dwindling rather quickly. I paid a few trips to Elizabeth to see if she could offer any advice or support, and got a few pointers, but it took a lot of self-teaching to figure out just how to change an infant's diapers, prepare milk for her, and give the child adequate attention as she was now learning how to crawl.

It was amusing, the thought of a killer now raising a fresh faced 18 month old baby. But such was life, and waiting was also part of it. Before coming here, I had stopped at Elizabeth's and told her I wouldn't be coming back, but told her to meet me at Reilly's grave when she got out, on the anniversary of his death.

As the one I had been waiting for walked in, I smiled to myself briefly. I had figured it would be too "in-your-face" to call the number on the card. So in my typical fashion, I had stalked her whereabouts, and figured out the routine, the usual spots, and then decided where would be best to corner her. The Coffee Bean, it was.

Felicia was about to proceed to the register when she saw me staring at her.

"Gotcha," I said.

She gave me a look of impatience, then she walked away from the register and took the seat across from me. "Listen, if you're looking to hook up again, sorry buddy. I have a boyfriend now, and-"

I raised my hand for a moment, and then I pulled the stroller behind me and pointed at the sleeping child inside.

"Do you know who...or what...this is?" I asked.

"Well, the Look Who's Talking baby, it ain't," she responded. "No, I don't. Look, what's this all-"

I held up my hand again. "Patience!" I whispered. She was annoyed now, but I didn't care. She was truly my only hope in this situation.

I continued. "This is your...friend's child. I have the DNA record in the stroller."

"Wait, what friend-" she stopped. Then realization dawned on her. "May!"

I nodded. She looked at me, and then she looked back at the kid. "Is this some sort of trick? For all I know, this is probably some clone kid, and-"

"The only man capable of creating fully sustainable clones has been dead since just before the birth of this child," I rebutted. "This child's father knows that fact very well. Furthermore, the DNA of this child is a genetic match with the father and the mother. I know, because I possess the father's DNA, and I've kept a strand or two of the mother's from a few times when I met her in the past."

Felicia looked at the child again, and then leaned back in her seat, stunned. "Wow. I just—wow." She looked back at me, cocking an eyebrow. "So just how did you pull this off?"

I proceeded to tell her the entire story, and for the next hour, she sat there enraptured, asking no questions as I told the entire story of my escape from prison, the trip to Europe, learning that Mongrain had been the catalyst for this whole crisis to begin, how I dealt with the Scriers, how I missed out on Osborn, how I shifted my path to the Kingpin, how I ended up back here, and how Vanessa had given up the child to me

Felicia whistled softly. Then she pulled out the paper and pointed out a headline that I had apparently missed. I quickly read it, and shook my head. It reported the violent suicide of the woman yesterday, in front of her husband's eyes, and his reaction. "So she really did take it to him," I commented.

I turned back to her, closing the newspaper. "But now, the last step, is where you come in."

"Me?" she asked, confused.

"Yes," I said. "Look...my physical problems are cured, but...I still have emotional and mental issues. Plenty of them. And I have a few things I need to work out on my own. The last thing I want to do is have to face Peter and Mary Jane again and have to deal with their questions. This was what I owed them, and now the debt is cleared."

"So you want me to give the child to them," she said. She shrugged. "Fine, it shouldn't be a problem."

I nodded. "Good. One request though...let them know it was me, but tell them that they have nothing to fear or worry about from me anymore. I won't be around to bother them."

Felicia froze. "Wait...you're not going to do something stupid, like her, are you?" She pointed at the newspaper.

I smirked. "Maybe a year ago, I might have. But no, it's not like that." I looked off in the distance. "In my mind, I'm always going to be comparing myself to him. And everything around here...sometimes it's easy for him and for others to forget, I share all his memories up until a certain point. Everything he went through as Spider-Man, including Gwen...I remember it all. But he's the rightful owner of all that. I can accept that now."

I looked back at her. "What I can't accept is that there's anything for me in this city then, while he's still here," I said firmly. "So I'm getting out of here."

"Where will you go?" she asked.

I shrugged. "Who knows? Right now, I just want to get out of here. I have no superpowers left, beyond a strange ability to see the future. I can live as normal a life as I want. Maybe start up a psychic business, buy some tarot cards. And that's all."

After taking it all in for a moment, Felicia smiled, standing up. "Well...it's been...interesting, Kaine." She offered a hand, and I clasped it firmly. "I guess this is it, huh?"

I nodded. "Good luck with your man." I began to walk away, before stopping and taking my small companion in my arms briefly. Amazingly, she still slept. I kissed little May on the cheek, my eyes watering for a moment, and then I quickly wiped away the tears and put her back in the stroller.

And then I headed out the door, before stopping and looking back at Felicia and the child. A thought went through my mind, and then I smiled and walked back in.

"You know, you should have some fun with this," I said to Felicia. "Instead of telling them right away it was me, how about you try something else."

Felicia grinned. "I'm all ears."

"Okay. First, go and get some stilts from Wal-Mart, then buy a fake beard from a mask shop. Get a nice perm on your hair, get a long trench coat like I've got on, and then stuff it with a bunch of crap..."

I continued, and after a bout of giggling, she agreed to the plan, after which I was satisfied and left her with May.

./././

Felicia Hardy wore her disguise with some trepidation, but mostly just thought this was a great idea. She tried to keep her balance, praying that she didn't fall and that she didn't drop the kid to the floor. Kaine had given Felicia enough to buy all this stuff, although she had tried refusing.

She took a deep breath, and knocked on the door. After a few minutes, the old lady opened it and gasped. "Oh my!" she exclaimed.

"Aunt May," Felicia boomed, activating the voice-alteration device. "It's me...Kaine!"

The old woman staggered back. "Wait...Aunt May...I come in peace," she continued. "I bring you Peter's...daughter...May."

For a moment, the old woman seemed like she was about to have a heart attack, as she clutched herself. Concerned, Felicia almost considered dropping the whole charade, before the woman burst out laughing.

"Oh God! Heh heh heh...wooo...you are hilarious, whoever you are. You got me real good!" she giggled. Felicia was exasperated, and walked in, up to May's couch. She pulled off the beard and the trenchcoat, lowered herself off the stilts, clicked off the voice-changer, and revealed herself.

"Surprise, Ms. Parker...Felicia Hardy," she said.

The woman smiled broadly. "Felicia! I didn't know you were such a jokester!"

Felicia bowed, but was somewhat upset it hadn't really worked. "Thank you, thank you." She then looked at May, who was still smiling, but Felicia had a serious look on her face.

"Actually, Ms. Parker," she continued. "This really is Peter and MJ's daughter."

May's expression became dead serious. "What?"

Felicia raised her eyebrows. Well, uh, let's see, it looks like I'm going to have a lot of explaining to do here. Maybe I can try this again with Spider and Red after I tell May...but for now...yeaaaaahhhh. Spiders and babies and clones, oh my...

Out loud, she simply said, "Boy, do I have a lot to tell you."

./././

Five hours after leaving Felicia and May behind, I was on a motorcycle, headed out of New York for good, having taken all the money I had left with me. I didn't know where I was going, or what exactly I would do with my only real talent left – the psychic ability – but finally, I was free of the curses, the vows, and the past.

One questioned remained on my mind, annoyingly unresolved.

Would it have been worth it to kill Osborn? After pondering over it for about ten seconds, I let the question remain unanswered. It wasn't my problem anymore, I told myself. He wasn't even human at this rate, I thought, as I recalled the news about him going into SHIELD's custody.

Satisfied that I needed to do no more, my mind moved away from the life of Peter Parker, Spider-Man, New York, superheroes and supervillains for what I hoped would be one of the last times, coincidentally just as I crossed the New York border out of the state...

...and into Salvation.

Fin

Author's Note: And there goes Kaine! Guess it really WASN'T him who showed up at the end of "The Face on the Milk Carton!" Muahaha, nice little curveball we threw at ya.

Thanks again to everyone who read this! Just some housekeeping: if you go back and read the other fic I mentioned, "The Face on the Milk Carton" you will appreciate and understand this story a lot more! You can read this story its own as well, but if you haven't read that 10-part saga which builds up to the return of May, please do so! Also, you may recognize that while he's blacked out, Kaine has a vision of the Brand New Day universe (recognize some of those scenes from ASM #609, #635, and #636! If you've been reading my other fics, you know they take place in a universe that went in a different direction after ASM #508 - meaning everything from Sins Past onwards does not count in my "continuity." But why is Kaine having visions of the "BND-verse?" This WILL be explained in the future.

Next up: Peter Parker: Spider-Man #166 - EXPLANATIONS. Peter, MJ, Aunt May, and "Kaine" (hehehehe) grapple with the new reality of Baby May! Plus, Aunt May reveals a secret of her own - and it's a doozy! Be there, soon! For now, PLEASE leave a review - good or bad! Excelsior!