Disclaimer: We are not Marvel.
#9:Runway of Deception
"Asolutely not!" shouted the elderly woman, directing a scowl toward the source of her disgust.
The speaker's greying hair had been tied into five braids. Surrounded with her merchandise, she stood at the store's counter.
"Please! I could design for you, I could transform this store..." the red-headed girl pressed. She'd worn her hair shorter in those days, choosing for herself a white overcoat, light gray skirt, with a pair of white boots that reached her knees, and a short silver chain carrying a pendant of lapis lazuli.
"I don't need any help, let alone from high school girls... college girls... whatever it is you are. Go and scram already!"
Mary Jane left the store in dejection, her gaze focused on the city street in a posture that was very unlike her.
"Maybe I should..." she wiped the rain water off her face. "Maybe I should just move back with my parents."
The thought alone made her tremble in both agitation and disappointment. So much so in fact that she missed the sounds of loud footsteps right behind her.
"Duck!" without another moment of warning, a girl rushed at her from behind, tackling her to the pavement.
"Ou! That hurt!" Mary Jane shouted at her assailment. "What's the big idea?!"
Her words went unheard over the din of gunfire.
"That," the girl said. She wore a ragged brown hoodie with a grey backpack loosely-hung on one shoulder, torn blue jeans and a pair of sockless sneakers. As a whole it certainly gave Mary Jane the impression she was used to living on the streets on her own.
More significantly, she saw that her strange companion was busy pelting what for all the world looked like streams of webbing from her fingertips at the three trenchcoated thugs behind them both. The webs hit one's face, another's gun barrel, and the third's knee - blindsighting, disarming, and staggering them in that order.
The last shot lacked enough force to trip her target however, leaving the gangster unaffected and readying his weapon.
The girl mumbled a curse under her breath, before simply picking up Mary Jane from off her feet like a bride.
"P-put me down!" Mary Jane protested, feeling disoriented through her tilting field of vision.
"Oh I'm sorry, do you wanna get shot, princess?!" the girl dashed into an alley, just in time to dodge the incoming bullets, attaching herself and her hapless companion to a wall. Before Mary Jane's bewildered mind could parse the sensation of balancing sideways on a horizontal surface, the girl was already jumping wall-to-wall before reaching the top of a roof, giving the two girls a moment to find their senses. This took somewhat more time for MJ, reeling from the jolt in activity she found herself in the last forty-five seconds.
"Steve, you'll be telling the Don about this!" she heard one of the trenchcoats say, before the three were heard running off.
"Y... You can put me down now," Mary Jane said with an audible gasp for breath.. Her companion did just that with a non-committal shrug.
"These clothes are so ruined... What was all that about?" MJ asked, a note of panic evident in her voice as she took measured breaths to steady her nerves. "They were shooting at me? Who were they? Why were they shooting at me? How did you jump like that? What was that white stuff? Who..."
"Whoa, slow down," the girl said. "One question at a time would be nice."
"Fine, fine..." MJ found her pulse slowing as the immediate shock of events faded.
"I'm Mary Jane Watson. Who might you be?" she gave her savior a smile that was only slightly forced.
The girl pulled down her hood, (an act Mary Jane suspected wasn't normally done in front of others) revealing a shock of long unkempt blond hair that swept across her face.
"Name's Gwen." she brushed the hair from over her eyes with the swipe of a wrist, before extending it out to Mary Jane, palm up. "Gwen Stacy."
As expected, MJ made the bus on time, but only just. She walked through the bus stop in brisk strides, her black boots clacking across the gravel.
She squinted through the mid-morning sun, her blue eyes sensitive that time of day.
Her black dress, gloves and boots made her stand out somewhat among would-be passengers crowding around her. If the attire hadn't done the job, her luggage full enough to occupy a neighboring seat would.
For the time being, MJ was grateful the center of attention wouldn't be focused on her exclusively. In truth, that day was hardly the ideal time to prove her worth on the royal runway, not after Gwen hadn't come back.
No, it wasn't the first time, and it would certainly not be the last.
The bus had filled quickly, as to be expected, but there had remained to her some immediate space. Perhaps it was due to her appearance - she looked more like a weary business executive late for a meeting than an aspiring model. She blamed it on her worsening mood, her parents had said she looked older when she didn't smile.
While the space was hers, she swung her legs across the seat to her left, resting her head on her bag.
Those that knew her would have gleaned more about the thoughts troubling her mind through posture alone than an hour of pleasantries.
Try as she might, the thought did little to comfort her.
Mary Jane sighed, trying to take in the dull purr of the engines, to bathe in the sound and wash off her distractions. At least loll her to a semblance of sleep.
The end result reduced her to a semi-conscious state where dream merged with memory, occasionally jolted awake with the clamor of people and traffic.
Mary Jane spending an afternoon with their meager funds, buying her modest if eye-catching outfits she knew Gwen would like, only to find the apartment floor strewn with scraps as she'd cut designer jeans into ragged shorts.
The first time she'd had her roommate's lethal attempts at making dinner.
When she found herself forced to put her sewing skills to the task of sealing a slash across Gwen's back.
Or when she'd spent a bit more time than strictly necessary measuring Gwen's figure for her first costume. After a time, she roused from her fitful sleep. Someone had switched on one of the mounted TV sets. Following a rather confusing advertisement (something about a dog, a bottle of wine, and a bike with a flat tire), a news report by the Daily Bugle a notion that made her consider going back to sleep as a more productive use of her time.
"This is field reporter Ned Leeds, and we're on the site of an event that shook all of New York yesterday. The city has faced many incidents of extraordinary attacks, but events of such a scale are still something to behold." MJ sat up straighter in her seat, gently rubbing her eyes so as not to disrupt her mascara. The camera focused on the rubble around him, cracks splitting through the cement. Zooming in on every broken home and demolished store, the damage done to this street alone would have led many to conclude it had been struck by a sizable earthquake.
"A gargantuan robotic menace appeared out of the sky, terrorizing the citizens of New York before setting its sites on well-known super villain Spider-Woman. And though the battle ended in the latter's favor, the situation has taken a very disturbing development. We have the Chief of Police for further information. But before we get into the aftermath, Chief Carter, could you give us a comment about concerns of the giant's origin? Some of our viewers believe it was produced by the Silver-Oscorp Conglomerate." Ned gave the microphone to Carter.
"Thank you," Carter coughed into the cuff of his uniform. "I can assure you all that those so-called claims are nothing less than the baseless drivel of online conspiracy theorists. No ethical company would ever create such a monstrosity, let alone deploy it indiscriminately. This is nothing new as an accusation, and I can assure any concerned viewers that these baseless rumors are conjecture at best. These claims have proven wrong in the past, and will be deemed likewise, just as before."
"Do you have information then on what could be the real cause of the attack?" Ned asked.
"We are investigating the matter. So far, we suspect various terrorist organizations, such as the Ten Rings or the Brotherhood of Mutants."
"What happened after the battle?"
"When we arrived on the scene, we had found Spider-Woman in the company of known gang members, in possession of weapons that are... normally unobtainable on the black markets. We have reason to believe these weapons were illegally distributed by the criminal herself."
"What a load of bull..." Mary Jane mumbled.
She tuned the rest out. She didn't have the patience to sit through the latest half-baked rant from the Bugle. The mention of Oscorp, gangs and weapons gave MJ a moment's pause.
She can't be behind this, can she? We've been over this kind of thing, she promised me she'd stay out of any more crimes.
Gwen was fine, she just hadn't come home last night. When she returned home with the support from a magazine or two, Gwen would be asleep on the couch after some colorful adventure or another... making a mess of the place no doubt.
"Are you ok?" she texted to Gwen. It went unread like the last five texts.
"I am sorry, but Gwen gave this number to me in case of emergencies." she texted to Jean DeWolff next. "She hasn't been home for the whole night. Do you know what could have happened to her?"
"No idea, kid," Jean replied a minute later. "I'm looking for her too. Let me know if you find anything."
The reply left Mary Jane deep in thought.
Why would she disappear like that? She won the fight, right... So what happened?
Of course there was always the thought in her mind that she did her utmost to ignore that insisted that this wasn't just another petty crook or ranting lunatic, but a machine bent on killing that had left its mark on Times Square.
The bus came to a stop in front of a theater, sticking out amid a long line of cars looking like they belonged either to a player in politics high-up in the corporate food chain, or both.
Though the driver had already announced the stop, Mary Jane lingered in her seat for a moment.
She'll be fine. Right?
I need to be here, not for Gwen, but for me.
"Hey gothic girl!" the driver shouted. "This is the last stop! You're wasting my lunch break!"
"Huh?" Mary Jane noticed she was the only remaining passenger. "R-right! My apologies."
MJ pulled her luggage out, soon joining the crowd heading into the building. A neon sign proclaimed the place as "Donovan Theater" in an archaic font. Mary Jane was not about to argue with the red neon logo above, the impressive entrance boasting a silver-trimmed archway, the lines of small stained-glass windows, or the red carpeting that stretched out into the building proper, and especially the two female guards in black suits that were politely asking for invitations. Each entrant stepped forward to pass on their glossy cards; the exception was a middle-aged woman dressed in identical attire.
Her snow-white hair was tied in a practical knot, prominent eyebrows of the same color framing a set of passive brown eyes, and a confidently relaxed expression with the suggestion of a smirk.
The last to arrive drew considerable interest to the crowd. From a blue limousine stepped out two men; one of them unmistakable as anyone other than Roderick Kingsley who left the limo first. The second man was a bit shorter than Kingsley, his unguarded expression betrayed his youth, as had his excessively-gelled brown hair that overcompensated to keep its short length upright.
Kingsley wore his perfectly-tailored black suit, striking in how unadorned it was by a man that could have been as gaudy as he'd liked. A red tie with purple dots was all that could qualify, otherwise there was little to be noticed other than his polished boots and lightly-combed hair.
From a certain point of view, he could be making a fashion statement of his own. There was nothing so arrogant as coming to a fashion show in casual. When everyone else must dress to impress, it was the perfect way of saying you didn't have to; not when everyone knew your name.
Either he's a genius, or I'm overthinking this. I think I like the first one.
His companion preferred a much more elaborate look: under a bloodred coat with a high popped collar, he wore a green silk shirt threaded with gold, held up tightly by a red vest, its surface enriched with the beaded images of black serpentine silhouettes trailing down his arms. Similar images spread through his shiny red leggings, ending just as red knee-high boots came to intersect. In his pocket he'd placed a small bottle filled with a light blue liquid of some description, the neck noticeably bulging out.
I could make a tasteless joke here about his appearance but...
There was a slight damp spot where some of the contents had spilt, presumably the cap hadn't been tight enough.
Okay several tasteless jokes, but better not.
"It seems we've arrived," Kingsley said enthusiastically. "And last too, how very fitting."
Oh come now, fashionably late? Guess that cliche was just too easy not to use.
"Look at them," the other man spoke in a melodiously high-pitched tone that poorly concealed the whisper in the other man's ear. He was either unaccustomed to speaking in a low voice, or simply preferred not to care.
"Look at them, so confident and carefree. Don't they know that the contest already belongs to me?"
"Of course they do, Jason," Roderick ran his hand through Jason's cheek.
"Do be careful, mister Roderick. After all, aren't you married?" Jason teased.
"Who doesn't love a good celebrity scandal?" Kingsley whispered back. "Let's go. The runway awaits!"
Mary Jane slipped into the theater following after a woman in a green dress. The inside of the theater continued to impress with velvet red seats stylized as thrones in miniature, baroque-styled architecture evident in the spacious auditorium, and the titular runway inlayed with polished silver and a thick crimson carpet that stretched thirty feet from stage to audience. A feeling of surrealism momentarily swept across the struggling model, as if she'd stumbled on to the set of a movie by mistake and there was only a matter of time before a director would throw her out for being in a place she wasn't welcome. There was a brief stab of fear in her stomach as that outcome was very possible if she wasn't very lucky. Still reeling with awe, Mary Jane forgot she still had to carry her baggage backstage.
"Yes! I am finally here, Gwen!" MJ raised a fist in exultation.
Oh... Right... You're not...
The guests quickly began filling the seats one by one. Most were content to fill whichever seat they came to, but there were two in particular that distanced themselves as far as they could within the limitations of the auditorium. The white-haired woman from before chose the farthest seat on her left, the neighboring seats were occupied by the guards in suits. The trenchcoated variant both Gwen and MJ were far too familiar with took their seats opposite those of the suits, to the furthest of which rested Allan Silvermane.
This event is even bigger than I thought. I have to... To keep my calm. Darn it, if only you were here for me...
But that's selfish, isn't it? Am I being selfish for the way I feel about her?
Nevermind, I can mope all I wish later. As for now, eyes on the prize, Watson.
Three seats apart from the others were reserved in front of the stages for the judges. The first to take their place was a short, slightly pudgy man with brown hair in a gray suit Mary Jane self-categorized as "very cheap". He had criminally unkempt stubble on an otherwise unremarkable, vaguely confused face.
Wait a minute, that's Donald Roxxon? What is the CEO of a security firm doing here as a judge? And how much had he been bribed to be here?
A woman in a purple coat and wide hat took the second spot. She placed the hat on the table, showing her short blond hair and excessive use of makeup, particularly with the purple lipstick. She held her composure firmly, with a hint of outward irritation.
That one makes sense. Narda Ravanna, president of Belladonna Cosmetics. Still a little random, I would say.
The last remaining seat was taken by...
"Absolutely unacceptable!" J Jonah Jameson landed in the last seat.
"I should be making completely honest video documentaries about Spider-Woman, gangs, and Spider-Woman leading gangs! This better be worth a few laughs, Kingsley."
You have got to be kidding me...
"Why, hello!" she heard the voice of Roderick Kingsley. "If it isn't the illustrious Mary Jane Watson. I was concerned you would not be attending, after the teeny misunderstanding of ours last time."
The "teeny misunderstanding" of you not paying me for your advertisement, you deceptive, slimy four-faced monger of...
"But I hope all of that nonsense is behind us," Kingsley offered his hand to shake.
No, it is not. When I become god empress of the fashion industry, you'll be the first to suffer. I shall track down every bank account, vault, and treasure map with your name on it, get back the money you owe me, and burn the rest in a bonfire so large its smoke shall blot out the sky for seven days and seven nights! My emissaries will deface every possession you own, shred every contract your soiled hands have signed, and erase your influence from the history books. And when you sit there, cold and alone as you rot and shiver in a jail cell, remember that I offered you a way out!
The thought warmed her heart, bringing a smile to her face.
"Yes. I suppose it is," reluctantly, Mary Jane accepted.
"Absolutely marvelous, after all, good business is not driven by grudges," Kingsley gave an innocuous smile. "I am looking forward to your performance, Miss Watson. Now then, if you'd excuse me, I must go bug someone else."
Hmph.
Kingsley did indeed walk away, allowing Mary Jane to finally make it backstage.
"Mr Silvermane, how good of you to show up," Kingsley approached him. The trenchcoats started reaching for their weapons, but Allan stopped them with a swipe of his hand.
"Do not flatter yourself," Silvermane said. "I am here to merely pass the time."
"Aren't we all? It's not every day you see future stars rise and fall, trying their best to cut the throats of opposition at this decadent and exploitative industry, just for the chance of a contract. Reminds you of your own youth, doesn't it?"
"My youth had grace, elegance, and modesty," Silvermane said. "These days fashion is decided by whomever is the most ridiculous and inappropriate. A worthless spectacle of social defiance. Such a waste of time better spent on higher pursuits."
"Nevertheless... I do appreciate you being here," Kingsley turned to the white-haired woman. "Dear Anastasia, thank you for providing security as well, shame my wife couldn't make it today..."
Kingsley had noticed Jason heading backstage.
"And now I have to be at a place, so do please excuse my very excusable self..."
At backstage, Mary Jane prepared her dresses away from the other contestants. This way, during her periodic phone checks, she wouldn't be bothered. Compared to the noisy theater proper, the backstage scene offered a more humble near-silent atmosphere away from most of the staff, which lasted until Jason arrived.
"That's *&^%. And so is that," he walked behind other contestants. "And this. And wow, what a piece of absolute, undenying garbage under a *&^% pile. How do you live with yourself after creating such a... shameless... atrocity?"
"Please, leave us alone. You're making us uncomfortable," said a woman with brown hair. She wore a green dress herself, and her corner of the backstage also had a rack filled with green dresses.
"You don't get to tell me what to do, ple-be-ian," he replied, stretching out the last word. "Hmph, if this is the class of competition ill be up against, the end of this pitiful farce of a contest is even more inevitable than I thought."
Mary Jane looked at her phone again. Zero new messages, zero missed calls.
It can't be, can it?
She dialed Peter's number, inwardly berating herself for not trying this earlier.
Nothing.
His cell went directly to inbox.
As the the one that had rigged their trackers, Gwen had confessed her worry once that if Oscorp ever got wind of what they were up to, he'd be at the top of their list despite his reassurances. Paranoia or not, Mary Jane was not liking the implications her thoughts were teasing out.
"You, ketchup-head!" Jason shouted at MJ. "Do you think you get to ignore me?!"
Do you think I give a...Wait, "ketchup-head", seriously?
Despite or perhaps because of the stress of her predicament, she couldn't hold back a sudden peal of giggles that sounded louder than they were within the confines of the backstage.
"Are... You serious?" continued MJ upon recalling the elaborate attire. The garish mismatching of colors as if he'd hoped it would all come together without consideration was a beginner's mistake at best.
"When the winner is speaking with you, you are supposed to listen."
Oh dear, its one of these types, isn't it?
"The contest hasn't even begun, you know," even if it was now pointless, Mary Jane felt her expression slip into the familiar mask of neutrality.
"How cute, you think that actually matters," he smiled the most unnatural of smiles. "Let me tell you something. In this world, you are either born a winner, like me, or you are destined to fail in your pitiful goals. Contests like this, seemingly meant to give you a chance, are nothing but scams. They'll just put you on display, like a bird in its cage until you cease to amuse."
"Okay, 'Nietzsche', why don't you just quit while you're ahead?"
"Because... I am a born winner. My blue blood and my vast riches are proof of my birthright. All of you exist for only one purpose - to define me."
"Is that why you dress like this?" Mary Jane smirked. "You, my friend (and I use the term very loosely here) are a regular fashion disaster. Popped collar? Leggings with knee-highs? That hair, oh wow, that hair. How did you get out the door in that, without getting arrested for disturbing the peace? Or laughed right back to whatever pit of decadence you crawled out of, whatever comes first. Someone with lead makeup and shoulder pads has better odds."
Mary Jane's little rant left Jason in a state of deadlock.
"How...How dare you?"
"News flash, we aren't toys for your amusement. Besides, your money isn't going to magically win you this contest."
"On that... you're quite mistaken. You... you've made an enemy here tonight. They'll all lose, but I'll make sure that your loss is the most humiliating one of all! I'll..."
"Are you quite finished? Some of us have to put some thought in our performances."
He clenched his teeth and left without responding. As Kingsley caught him on the way out, the two started conversing about something too far for MJ to hear.
"What was up with that guy?" MJ asked no one in particular, but the brown-haired girl shrugged her shoulders anyway.
The rest of the preparation went on undisturbed. As each contestant was approached by a model, they both went to their respective changing corners.
"You're miss Watson, right? I'm Vanessa." the woman who greeted MJ had a weary look in her eyes, visible even through her copious makeup. She had short blond hair and her dress was somewhat of a plain brown color.
"Yes. Shall I be working with you?"
"Yup, let's get this over with," she responded apathetically.
"I'm sorry, is something the matter?"
Please not you too, please don't have an attitude.
"No, it's fine. It's just, no offense or anything, but I've seen people like you come and go in events like this. None of them exactly walk out with Kingsley's credit card."
As Gwen would say, *&^%...
"What do you mean?"
"Ever seen those reality talent shows? It's kind of like that. They don't want you to..." Vanessa froze in place upon seeing Mary Jane's prepared dresses. "Did... did you make this?"
Mary Jane nodded.
"This is... really good. Are you really an amateur?"
Again, she nodded.
"You... might have a chance here."
"Then let's get to work."
They spent the rest of their time trying out dresses to see which one should be used for the actual contest. They were left undisturbed in their little changing corner, the increasingly calm atmosphere slowly soothing Mary Jane into a practiced trance of sorts that made her at once both aware and calmly withdrawn from the immediate surroundings.
"Oh wow, you could swallow a behemoth," MJ whistled, watching Gwen gorge on pepperoni pizza slices as if she was in a food competition. Each time a bit of crust or cheese came dangerously close to falling off the table, Mary Jane's heart skipped a beat - her apartment had always been clean and organized without a dedicated slob corner. An hour in, and her tidy living space was already losing ground to her newcomer's messier tendencies.
"Girl," Gwen tried to speak with two pizza slices in her mouth at once. "I haven't eaten in so *&^% long I could eat an entire *&^% no problem."
"A... What?"
"You know, a *&^%. It's when you use a special..."
"Please do spare me the details on that..." Mary Jane quickly intervened before her worldview was further compromised.
"If you must talk with food in your mouth, tell me what happened back there."
"Oh that?" Gwen said. "Guys got guns, they want to use their guns on me and I'd rather they didn't. It's honestly pretty simple."
"It may be that simple to you, but I..." MJ shuddered. "I'm still having trouble putting together what happened. Okay, okay, let's try to put this mess together in small steps. Why were they shooting at you?"
"Because of this," Gwen opened her backpack to show it was full of cash, and a loaf of bread.
"The bread?"
"No, silly, the humongous pile of cash."
Mary Jane lost count of how many bills were in the bag. There was but one thought on her mind.
"Did you... steal that?" she asked.
"That I did... heh. Sometimes, people don't really have a choice in what they do. They can only choose how to do it. I've made a mistake that needs fixing."
"Were those guys a crime syndicate or something like that? You some kind of Robin Hood?"
"Now I guess I am. Haven't always been... but I'm trying to, you know?" she supposed it made a kind of sense, even if she couldn't completely trust the brown-hooded girl that swept her off her feet.
"Why the bread though? you could just buy it with the money you... acquired."
"Well, what if I'm found out and decide to ditch the money so I won't be caught with evidence? I don't think I'd get thrown in jail for some bread and a girl's gotta eat."
"Yes, I'm... quite aware of that," mercifully Gwen had started taking smaller bites on her next slice.
"Aladdin made it look cool," Gwen shrugged. "Ya know, one jump ahead of the bread line, one swing ahead of the sword."
"So first its Robin Hood, now it's Aladdin? Maybe you should pick your own name."
"You mean like some kinda superhero? Gotta eat to live, gotta steal to eat. I think I'll pass."
Gwen finished her last slice, gave reflectively upon the situation, and stretched.
"But hey, I got the powers thing taken care of. Watch this!" she shot a line of semi-transparent webbing from her hand, picking it up, missed the trash can by a wide margin, and knocked it into a stack of plates which promptly shattered.
"First rule - no webs in the house! Now while I'll go and do the responsible thing and clean up this mess, the least you could do is tell me how you got... whatever that is."
"You sure? Uh, it could take a while..." she mumbled, her head under her hood in an attempt to hide a blush of embarrassment.
"Trust me, I've got plenty of time," MJ said with gritted teeth as she got the broom.
"It all started back when me and my friend Harry..."
The sound of loud music from the stage disrupted Mary Jane's thoughts.
"It's begun," the model said.
On the runway, under the sight of every guest, Roderick Kingsley came into the spotlight. All eyes were focused on him as every light in the theater faded away.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said into the microphone. "We are proud to welcome you into the twelfth annual Royal Runway! On this show, we take up-and-coming image makers out of the pool and team them up with our models, giving our contestants a chance to wow us with the resulting total look so much, they'd win some very, very beneficial contracts!"
He strolled around the runway, with the spotlight's continued focus.
"This year, we have invited these three esteemed judges - Donald Roxxon!"
"Um... hi," he mumbled, when another spotlight shined above the judge seats.
"And Narda Ravanna!"
"I'd like to restate that all the models you are about to see use Belladonna Cosmetics," Narda said into the camera. "If you want to feel the spotlight, so should you."
"Last but not least, J Jonah Jameson!"
"I hate every second of being here," Jameson said. "If you're watching this for me, just tune back to the Bugle channel."
"And now, to our first contestant. Well-versed in all things nature, this fashion designer strives to implement her vast knowledge with her style! Please welcome - Elizabeth Allan!"
The same brown-haired woman Mary Jane spoke to before came out to the runway. She took the microphone from Kingsley, and faced the audience.
"I thank you for inviting me here. Please enjoy, as I present my style - the Green Thumb Dream!"
The lights illuminated the entire runway when Elizabeth's model appeared. She wore one of the green dresses found on Elizabeth's clothing rack. Its texture made it appear as if it were woven entirely out of plants. With the dress, she chose green high heel boots, decorated with various leaves, and bracelets with lilac petals. The final accessory resting on her head was a crown woven with white and pink roses. As she strolled through the runway, she repeatedly stopped to pose with a basket of poppies she had been carrying. Her facial features matched the image she tried to sell with her naturally-colored smiling lips and open, seemingly honest eyes, covered in light green eyeliner.
"I think I've seen this one before..." Jameson demonstrated his indifference with an intentionally excessive yawn.
"Please save your opinions until after the presentations," Narda said to him.
Roxxon kept his silence as the contest went on. Elizabeth Allan and her model left, giving the microphone back to Kingsley.
"Next contestant has a less... Favorable background. After struggling to keep her clothing store afloat for many years, she wishes for a career change. Can we expect the miraculous second wind on her way? Time to find out! Please welcome; Dorothy Carlyle!"
An old woman in a gray dress and a black jacket meekly approached Kingsley as he handed the microphone to her.
"H-hello. Please, give me some consideration. M-my style is... Is... It's called the Grey Wind."
She quickly returned the microphone to Kingsley when her model walked in. She wore a similar grey dress, with a barely-visible wavy pattern on it. Plain white high heels, a grey wig barely covering her real brown hair, and huge sunglasses paired with dark grey lips. She didn't bother walking on the runway, and if anyone could see her eyes - her inner hope of getting backstage and getting her dignity back would be easily apparent.
"What the *&^%..." Jameson immediately covered his mouth. "Oops, wrong channel. Force of habit."
"Now that's a more... common sight here," Narda sighed.
"I like it," Silvermane said from the back.
"P-please vote for me," Dorothy said, not realising nobody heard her without the microphone, then left with the model.
"Let's all wish Dorothy luck and move on to the next contestant... Right, who's next on the list? Oh, my. An aspiring star in the fashion business, this one possesses an unrivaled talent ready to shine in front of your very eyes. Ladies and gentlemen, here comes the prodigy - Jason Phillip Macendale!"
Unlike the other contestants, Jason snatched the microphone as soon as he jumped onto the runway. He then tossed it into the air, only to catch it in his hand again, making Kingsley worry about the expensive equipment a little.
"Ah, the excessive youth..." Roderick mumbled.
"You've watched the mediocre, the bad, and the horrific," Jason shouted into the microphone.
"Now, it's time to witness true greatness, as befits from moi, the fashion world's chosen one! Prepare to be dazzled like you've never been dazzled before, by my flagship style, called.. The Demonic Sacrifice!"
The lights in the theater gained a red tint, and the sound of flames erupted around the runway. Jason's model slid into the spotlight, wearing a full red costume, consisting of knee-high boots, skin-tight leather pants, and a closed leather jacket with a popped collar, all with black demonic patterns and metal spikes on elbows, shoulders, and knees. His scarlet hair had enough gel to be completely sprung up, his eyes were smoked up with a thick layer of eyeliner, and when he opened his mouth, makeshift fangs became apparent inside.
"Observe the aggression, the power, the sinful subtlety of... man's inner darkness!" Jason walked around the runway with his model. "Gleeful, corrupting decay of the soul! And... grim reality of inevitable loss of human virtue!"
"Is this a fashion entry or a sales pitch?" Jameson mumbled.
The model walked over and over around the runway, each time stopping to pose with his fists raised in something resembling a battle stance. All three judges stared at him with barely contained disbelief, though all for different reasons, none of them very pleasant.
Allan Silvermane left his seat and walked away into the buffet, and Anastasia followed him. Their bodyguards were all instructed to stay, much to their misery.
"And with that, I am looking forward to my victory," Jason waved to his model, and they both left, taking the microphone with them. The lights returned to normal.
"Oh what a kid..." Kingsley took a second microphone out of his pocket. "Alright then, shall we continue?"
The spectacle went on, each contestant trying their best to present themselves to the judges, who grew increasingly jaded. The list of contestants that presented themselves grew, slowly approaching Mary Jane.
"And now we're done," Mary Jane said in the backstage. "Take a look."
Vanessa turned her eyes to a mirror. She hardly recognized who she'd become. Her short blonde hair became much more voluminous as if she suddenly grew half her hair in all the right the makeup smoothed out some of her stress lines and wrinkles, making her look fifteen years younger than she was albeit without signs of maturity, and the dress on her had the perfect black-and-gold pattern of a panther and a black fur collar, complemented by long black stockings and golden high heels.
"This is perfect," she said. "We've got time, mind if I be right back?"
"Go ahead," Mary Jane said with a satisfied smile, proud of how her work turned out. Instinctively, she checked her phone again, and her happiness vanished at the sight of zero new messages.
What would you do? What would you tell me? Should I stay or leave? Would you accept me following my dreams, would you tell me not to worry about you so much? I know... You'd tell me I ask too many questions again, wouldn't you?
For a moment she was tempted to send a last message. So close to victory, she thought of telling her the three words she'd never had the courage to say.
If I win, I'll tell her in person. She deserves to see me at my best.
Meanwhile, Vanessa headed outside with a pack of cigarettes in her hand. When she passed the cafeteria, she heard a voice calling out to her.
"Vanessa, please wait!" Jason Phillip Macendale rushed from behind her, carrying a half-filled wineglass. "We have to talk."
"You're... Macendale, right?" she stopped. "What is it?"
"I need to tell you something. It's about Mary Jane Watson. Please, have a seat," he pointed at the farthest seat in the cafeteria.
"Can't this wait? I need to have a smoke. Why are you telling me this anyway?"
"Seriously, this is important," neither his face, nor his voice carried his usual condescension. "It might put you in danger, Mary Jane is not who you think she is."
"What's this nonsense?" she was just about to walk away.
"Please, wait!" his tone sounded like a sincere plea. "This contest is rigged in ways you don't even realise!"
"Now that I think about it... She does seem a little too good... Fine, I'll hear you out," she said walking with him to the nearest seat.
"Good," he handed her the wineglass. "Have a drink, I think you'll need it before I'm done. It's a very long story."
"Start talking," Vanessa took a small sip out of the glass.
"You see, it all began with how she entered this contest. Did you know she ran advertisements for Roderick Kingsley, the man who holds this contest? Afterwards, he remained quite fond of her talents. It was a mere suspicion before, but now that you're unconscious it doesn't really matter."
Jason grinned, took the spilled wineglass back and left the cafeteria just as Kingsley passed by.
"Roderick!" Jason fained a voice of concern again. "It's terrible!"
"What do you mean she was found unconscious?!" Mary Jane said, after hearing Kingsley relaying the news to her backstage. "Who did that? Who even does that?"
"We don't know, but we don't have a replacement, even if we did have time to prepare a look for her," Kingsley replied. "It looks like you'll have to drop out of the contest."
No... I can't... I have to win this, no matter what I have to win this!
"No! I'm not doing that!" Mary Jane cried. "I won't drop out! I... There is no way I can!"
"I appreciate your enthusiasm, but without a model, you'll be presenting thin air, and nobody wants that. Speaking from experience."
He's right, without a model, there's no way I can...
Gwen, what would you do?
You never needed anyone else to fight your battles. You, alone, stood up to so much... I need to fight too. In my own way.
Mary Jane clenched her fists. Her eyes lost any semblance of doubt and worry.
"I'll do it... myself."
"Yourself, on such a short notice? There's like, barely three contestants left! You're absolutely insane, crazy, nuts, potatoes! I love it!" Kingsley said, before storming out of the backstage. "You better hurry, though!"
"Right," MJ headed towards the clothing rack, her mind entering a memory once more.
"I think I've wasted enough of your time and pizza supply by telling you my life story," Gwen stood up. "Thanks for everything, I gotta go."
"Where are you going to go?" Mary Jane asked quietly.
"Nowhere in particular... I don't have anywhere to go back to, remember?" she coughed by attempting a fake laugh. "Don't worry, though, I get by. Somehow..."
I had no idea that... Someone could live like that. Her life situation reversed so drastically, and yet... How does she go on?
If I were to lose so much, so quickly... If my own mother had...
Mary Jane snapped from her thought trail, when she realised Gwen was gone. Looking out of the window, she found Gwen strolling on the street, and stopping before a bearded man who held a sign "House foreclosed. Will sing for food." Gwen opened the backpack in front of him, and gave him half of the bread she had. Mary Jane couldn't hear anything from the window, but she did see that they were conversing about something.
She has nowhere to go, doesn't she?
Now that I think of it, it's been fairly lonely around here...
She rushed out of her apartment, just catching up to Gwen when the latter walked away from the homeless man.
"Wait!" MJ shouted.
Gwen was just about to swing away, but she stopped.
"Okay, good, please listen..." Mary Jane caught her breath. "Do you... by any chance... need a roommate?"
The latest contestant left the runway as Silvermane and Anastasia returned to their seats. Jason also took a seat, relishing in his permanent smug smile. Minutes later, a trenchcoated man whispered something into Silvermane's ear.
"Good, bring him to me," Silvermane replied.
Roderick Kingsley skimmed through his list, seeing Mary Jane on the next spot.
"Huh... um... well. It's time for our final contestant! Last, but not least, this newcomer in fashion makes the most daring of moves - she shall present her collection by herself, without a model! By the way, has anyone called the police yet? Anyway, here comes... here comes... Mary Jane Watson!"
Mary Jane missed her entrance, appearing on the runway half a minute after Kingsley's announcement. Yet when she stepped into the spotlight, most were captivated by her when gazing at the long dress with black and white tiger stripes ending with a fur collar not unlike that of a panther. Complimented with long gloves patterned with waves of black and white, her boots deliberately mismatched with one of each color. Her red hair shone with a light sprinkle of glitter, just enough to catch the light along with her red eyeliner and lipstick, contrasting with the monochrome clothes.
"Impossible..." Jason whispered. "How could you... In that short time..."
Even Kingsley took a moment to remember having to hand her the microphone.
"Welcome, everyone," she said, curbing her hesitation. "I'm going to present to you, my own style, the Tiger's Jackpot!"
The moment Mary Jane stepped on the runway the audience grew enraptured by her performance. Each step radiated passion, each wave of her hand inspired fresh cheers from the guests, even Jameson and Silvermane felt something resembling genuine interest. For Mary Jane, the spotlight felt pleasantly warm against her skin, as did the audience's admiration. When she closed her eyes, the weight of her audience's gazes only amplified the sensation, alongside the countless flashes of cameras.
"This..." Kingsley whispered. "This is even better than Jason... quick! Put the light! Make it red!"
At Kingsley's command, the theater tinted in dim red light once more. The light complimented her own red color, and the black and white on her dress contrasted even more under the dim lights.
"It's fine... Kingsley's got my back..." Jason recited to himself. "I still... I still am the winner!"
"What was that?" the guest sitting next to him said.
"Shut the *&^% up!" Jason snapped at him. "You... You... mongrel, ruffian, uncultured and uneducated *&^%!"
"Wow..." someone whispered. "So much for high society..."
Mary Jane did not hear their squabble, and even if she had, nothing could ruin the excitement, the exhilaration, the thundering pulse of her heart...
Yes... This is who I am.
This is where I belong!
The presentation ended with a loud, thunderous applause from the entire theater. Invigorated shouts echoed through the walls, repeating over and over:
"Mary Jane! Mary Jane! Mary Jane!"
"Well..." Narda said. "To say this is unprecedented is to restate the obvious..."
"Splendid, absolutely marvelous!" Kingsley shouted into his microphone. "A fitting closing performance for this year's Royal Runway! But stay tuned, for it is time for the judges to announce the winners! Right after these messages, that is..."
"Now then..." Kingsley put away the microphone. "Esteemed judges, please come with me."
The three of them followed Kingsley into backstage, much to Mary Jane's surprise.
Where are they going?
At the pretense of just walking backstage normally, Mary Jane followed them further into a small room. Though they locked the door, by pressing her ear on it, she could hear everything.
"Hello again, my... heh... esteemed judges," Kingsley said. "It is now when we decide the winner."
"I heard of this," Jameson said. "This is where you bribe us into voting for whoever you want, right, Kingsley?"
"Bribe? Heavens no, I would never engage in something as uncouth as a bribe. It's blackmail, actually."
What?!
MJ put her phone into a recorder setting, and pressed it against the door.
"So that's the game you're playing, Kingsley," Jameson slammed the table. "Then know that I won't be threatened! Tell him, Roxxon!"
"I can't... He'll reveal who I am..."
"That's a smart Donald," Kingsley patted him on the shoulder. "You sometimes forget those still exist."
"I'm interested, Roderick," Narda said. "What have you got on me?"
"Oh, my dear Narda, I got a lot on you. See, there were rumors that your cosmetics... To put it lightly, don't work as planned. It'd be a shame if your disfigured customers started speaking out again, after all the work we've put into suppressing them."
"Clever... But why would you go into so much trouble to force us vote for your candidate? What's your endgame?"
"None, really, that's the fun of it. I just... Go where the wind takes me, you know? When you're as rich as I am, you gotta entertain yourself somehow. Some get voted into Congress, others make suits of flying armor, and this is what I do."
"I'm not going to break!" jonah screamed. "You can't bend my will, Kingsley!"
"Maybe I can't, but documents proving your cooperation with none other than Norman Osborn might do the job."
Did I hear that right? Norman Osborn?
"How did you..."
"I have my sources. What's more important is that the current CEO of Oscorp happens to be in the hall right there. How do you think he's gonna take you having something that caused quite the uproar when S.H.I.E.L.D. Took an interest with them?"
"I was just trying to cure my son. I thought Osborn could do it."
"I'm sure that will be a very interesting matter to Silvermane."
"You've... made your point," Jameson's voice lost its fire. "What do you want?"
"When you get back in there, you shall do one thing for me; vote for Jason Phillip Macendale."
So that's what that twerp meant... This contest is rigged in his favor!
"Why?" Narda asked. "He wasn't the best, not even the second best."
"Because I feel like it. And now, this meeting is adjourned."
I have to do something fast, or I'll lose...
But what can I do? Macendale knew of this setup, he and Kingsley planned it in advance! Oh no, that's why my model was found unconscious! Macendale did it!
What should I do, what should I...
When she heard footsteps, she backed away from the door. Her phone, having just finished recording, went into standby mode. Kingsley and the three judges walked past her, heading out of the backstage.
I must... I must... I must act now!
"Stop!" Mary Jane shouted to Kingsley. Everyone turned their heads in confusion.
"I mean..." Mary Jane hastily regained a politer tone. "Mr Kingsley, we absolutely must talk in private. It's a very concerning issue."
"Of course, naturally," the judges shrugged and kept going, as Kingsley followed MJ into the room they've just been with him. "What is it?"
She pressed playback on her phone. It started reciting what Kingsley just told the judges.
"Oh boy... sound isolation sure does suck in this place, doesn't it?" he kept smiling.
I have to... I have to be strong. That's what Gwen would do.
"You've had this rigged from the start," she said with unprecedented cold conviction.
"Well, 'rigged' is an ugly word... um... set up? No, that's ugly too."
"You've put all these people on display, with all their hopes and dreams, with full intent to shatter them!"
Wow... t-that felt good to say...
"Hey!" he said with the indignation of an annoyed child. "That's just what show business does!"
"Well, not anymore," she raised her arm with the phone. "This... this is going public!"
"No! Don't do it! That'd be a PR disaster! My reputation will be hurt! I'd actually have to apologise semi-sincerely!"
"If you don't want this..."
She knew what she had to say. She knew she had to make him let the judges vote fairly, to choose whoever they wanted to win. She knew that would be the right thing to do. But her throat, her lips, and her tongue all chose a different set of words.
"You'll give the votes to me."
Kingsley spend the next few seconds being utterly baffled to the point of paralysis. Then, when the eureka moment in his brain struck, he burst into uncontrollable laughter.
"Wow, oh wow, you're something, most definitely something! I've had you all wrong! Here I thought you were just another above averagely talented naive heroic everygirl, but in reality you're just like me!"
What did I just say...
I can't... I can't take that back...
After the fit of laughter, he calmed down with some heavy breaths, merely saying:
"Done."
What?
"Really?" she asked.
"Really," he whipped his phone out. "I'm gonna text them right now."
Seconds later, all three judges received an "Actually, vote or Mary Jane Watson instead" text from Kingsley. Jameson mumbled something about flip-flops, but otherwise went along.
"You should hurry," Kingsley said. "The ceremony is already going."
Mary Jane arrived dead last in the line of candidates, all standing on the runway in anticipation of the judges. Roxxon, Narda, and Jameson all pretended to be deciding, until Roxxon stood first.
"Um... I think... Mary Jane Watson has truly dazzled... us all."
"You... you... that wasn't..." Jason stared at him, then closed his own mouth before revealing the plot. Mary Jane glanced at him with the most satisfied of smirks.
"So you've got one *&^%..." Jason whispered. "Two to one is still a..."
"I too believe none truly matched the stunning display we saw today from Mary Jane Watson!" Narda said, her words instantly became drowned in applause.
"It can't... it can't be..." Jason couldn't help but speak. Mary Jane smiled at him even more.
"So I'm last, huh," Jameson stood up. "Whatever. Watson wins. Can I go now?"
The applause became even louder, though someone from the back booed Jameson for an unspecified reason. Macendale fell on his knees in sheer shock, all the while Mary Jane had been given a golden statue of a crown placed on a runway, by Kingsley.
"I'm looking forward to working with you, my dear miss Watson," he said quietly.
The rest of the candidates, some sad, some heartbroken, some indifferent and even somewhat supportive of Mary Jane, had walked out. Only Jason Phillip Macendale remained on his knees.
"How could you?!" he suddenly burst out at Kingsley. "I trusted you, and you backpedal on me!"
"I backpedal on you?" Kingsley didn't change his flippant attitude. "What ever do you mean?"
"I did everything for you! Everything! Things I never would have done! And you've betrayed me!"
Two trenchcoated men walked onto the runway. One of them stood behind Jason, another walked over to Kingsley. He had shown him a bottle, halfway filled with light blue liquid.
"We've found this in a trash can," he said. "We believe this is the poison Vanessa was drugged with."
"I... I... that *&^% used it, so she could hog the spotlight!" Jason's mouth and right eye twitched. "G-get her at once!"
Are you flippin' serious right now?!
"No, that belongs to Jason," Kingsley shrugged. "Go ahead, turn him over to the cops."
"B-but..." Jason's face twisted into a horrified grimace of desperation. "You... you have no proof! There are no cameras in this place! Admit it, Kingsley!"
"Not in this place, sure... But in my limousine. I saw you put that into your pocket."
"No... no... I..." the two trenchcoated men put him in handcuffs. "Don't touch me! You disgusting, filthy *&^% disaster! Keep your ape hands off me!"
"Stop," Kingsley suddenly said.
"O-of course..." Jason's face gained a wide smile, "I knew you'd change your mind! T-this is all a game, isn't it? A prank! I knew you weren't s-serious..."
Kingsley bent over enough so that his mouth would be close to Jason's ear. The tone of what he said next had changed drastically, from flippant and light to coldly serious. His previously wandering eyes became a sharp gaze, as his words had slain Jason better than any weapon would.
"You've been an embarrassment to me, Jason... So it's time to discard you."
Then he turned to the trenchcoats.
"Take him away."
As Jason was carried away by the trenchcoats, he had no strength to say another word.
"Like I said, miss Watson," Kingsley returned to his usual expression and tone. "I'm looking forward to working with you."
Mary Jane went home, with the trophy in her hand, feeling an array of different emotions. In her mind, she knew the victory was what she wanted, but her heart knew there was something missing. The phone provided a hint by one again showing zero new text messages.
Gwen...
The overwhelming set of fear, worry, and guilt had gradually chipped away at her pride and triumph, so when she arrived near her doorstep, the trophy barely meant anything other than a badly designed lump of gold to her anymore. With her head held low, she raised her hand to open the door, when she heard footsteps coming her way. Instinctively, she turned to face the source.
"Hey, MJ. Got a mojito? I could really use one right now," said the source, in a voice Mary Jane would always recognize.
"G-Gwen!" Mary Jane dropped the trophy on the ground, so that both hands could rush to hug her.
She might have told her everything with a kiss, but she'd never know if she could as something gave her a moment's pause.
Taking a step back, she saw an unusual change to Gwen's civilian clothes. Her normally brown or green hood had been replaced with a deep shade of black. The rest of her clothes looked similar in shape, but the coloring was consistent.
Gwen smiled faintly up at her with eyes wide open as if she'd seen something MJ could not.
"I'm back. Hope I didn't keep you waiting."
The End.
