This is it. The REAL last chapter. Yes, it is ridiculously long. There will be a (hopefully) short epilogue to follow. After you read this, you may be wondering about a certain character who seems to have been abandoned. But fear not! Everything will be concluded in the epilogue (or most everything). But it may be a while in coming, as in several weeks. We'll see how long it takes me to get to it.
So what do I have to say for this one? Just that I hope it at least mostly lives up to your expectations, has enough twists and turns to make you dizzy, and gets you thinking about life, love, and consequences. I set out to write a story with a basic plotline that I found interesting and ended up with something completely different from my original plan. But that's okay!
And I'd just like to say that it is almost three years to the day that I published this story. Funny, no?
Here are the thank-you's:
Tokoyo and Griselda Banks for doing some beta-ing and giving me a lot of great advice about my writing. You guys have been incredibly encouraging and I love your writing too!
Yyunesprith, giveGodtheglory, jjonahjameson, and htbthomas for some amazing reviews and reminders to keep going. The little pokes you sent me when I was slow probably had more of an impact than you could guess.
To the rest who have reviewed regularly, irregularly, or once: Thank you so much for taking the time to leave a long or short message of advice, or even when you just stopped by to say that you read it.
My most sincere gratitude to you all!
Lady Suneidesis
Fatal Reunion – Part II
"Anytime would be good." Fantasma tapped her foot impatiently as Thorn scoured the alley. "What are you looking for now?"
Thorn cast her a cool glance. "I just want to make sure that we're not walking into another trap," she replied calmly.
"But Groak's already had Claire for over two hours. He's not the kind of person to wait around for us to show up. You guys took forever to get ready."
She started as Mimic wrapped an arm around her waist. He gave her a gentle hug. "It's gonna be all right, Nik. You'll see," he assured her quietly.
Out of habit, Fantasma risked a fleeting look at Krystelle. But the limp-shouldered blonde was leaning against the dirty wall of the alley, looking at her feet without really seeing them. She still hadn't come back to her senses. It was kind of sad.
Fantasma felt guilty as she observed the broken, miserable girl while she was cradled in the arms of said girl's ex-boyfriend. Ignoring Mimic's questioning look, she repositioned herself discreetly to shrug off his arm.
A few minutes later, Thorn declared it safe for them to enter the old cavern. It was hidden cleverly beneath a dumpster that looked like it hadn't been used for a long time but still reeked.
Somehow, Fantasma knew as she followed Mimic through the decrepit trapdoor and stumbled down the steep slope, that this was IT. This was going to be her final confrontation, the last mission she would ever undergo with this group. They were completely falling apart.
She still wasn't sure how she felt about it, only that she would do everything in her power to save Claire.
The door swung shut behind Thorn, the last member of the party, stifling them all in darkness. There was some fumbling and a flashlight flickered to light.
"What are you doing?" hissed Thorn angrily. She tried to shove past Krystelle and Fantasma, reaching for the light. "Are you trying to signal to every guard in the place that we're here?"
Mimic ducked away. "Believe me, they already know."
Fantasma tried to catch a glimpse of his expression in the oily light. But the bright flashlight cast shadows everywhere, making his face large and threatening. "What do you mean?" she asked worriedly. "What happened to the stealth approach?"
Mimic shrugged and pressed forward, the rest of the group following. The only sound was the soft taps of their boots and the occasional slap of water as someone stepped in a puddle.
"I hate this place," grumbled Krystelle. It was the first thing Fantasma had heard her say since their brief conversation at the motel.
When the path grew wider and leveled out, Mimic relinquished the light to Thorn who knew the way. Nobody said anything. Fear hung on the team like a foul smell.
They walked for a full ten minutes without seeing a single sign of life anywhere in the bleak corridors. Nikki wondered how anyone could find their way around here. She was already hopelessly lost.
Everything was so quiet. There was only the steady plink plink plink of precipitation dripping steadily against the moldy concrete floor.
Nikki felt a dull tingle shoot through her body. She froze, recognizing the sensation. Her powers had just been snatched. Luckily, Allie had stopped too, or they would have collided.
The stillness was ended by a cough.
"Shut up, Jordan," a man snarled from behind Nikki. She whirled toward the unfamiliar voice.
"Sorry, Sir," Jordan sniffled back miserably from the opposite direction. "I told you I had a cold…" he coughed again, sounding very congested. "I think maybe it's pneumonia."
Nikki spun once more. Out of nowhere, a group of at least fifteen men in the stiff black uniform of Groak's army had appeared. They were completely surrounded.
Thorn cursed.
"'Fraid you won't make that mistake again, Jordan," his commanding officer said. Then he raised his gun, aimed through the people who stood between Jordan and himself, and fired.
Fantasma's and Krystelle's screams drowned out the sound of the dead man hitting the ground. They stared at his corpse in horror.
"Let's go," the killer ordered, smoothly sliding his still-smoking gun into its holster.
As Fantasma stepped over the man called Jordan, she had to force herself not to gag. A flash of lightheadedness made her totter slightly in mid-step.
Suddenly, Mimic was at her elbow. He carefully helped her over the body and gave her arm a little squeeze of encouragement before they were separated.
"It's gonna be all right," he whispered for the second time that night. He seemed so sure.
For the second time in her life, Fantasma found herself being marched to Groak's hall in a daze. How could somebody just shoot another person for being a nuisance?
Now she was seriously rethinking her whole plan of intimidation. There was no way Groak would ever listen to a seventeen-year-old. She'd fallen completely for his trap. Her only hope was that he would at least release Claire. But it seemed unlikely.
Fantasma thought she might be sick.
Two soldiers were with her this time. She gazed into their masks, trying to discern any emotion whatsoever. There was nothing. She wondered hazily if the guard who had carried her down here last time had survived the gun battle.
It seemed to take ages to reach the throne room. At last, they were ushered into the looming hall. The frail Groak still sat hunched up on his hard stone throne. Had he even moved?
"Where's the girl?" was the first thing out of Groak's mouth.
Two rough hands grabbed Fantasma's shoulders and shoved her forward. She staggered a little, but managed to keep her footing.
Groak considered her through his great, black eyes for a long time. "I was beginning to think that you had decided to abandon your little friend." His gravelly voice hadn't changed. "I suppose you think you're going to rescue her."
Fantasma swallowed hard, trying to gulp down the sticky fear that clung to the back of her throat. "Yes," she answered boldly, but his comment had already dismayed her. "Actually, I'm here to demand that you release Claire."
He eyed her blearily. "Well, I regret to inform you that she's not here."
"She's what?" Fantasma choked.
"Not here." He shifted in his seat. "You wonder where she is."
Fantasma held back an angry retort, something along the lines of Duh.
He smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. Not many teeth were left in that hideous mouth. "I'm afraid that I can't tell you that, as I'm not exactly certain myself."
She stared at him blankly.
"Perhaps the young Mr. Anderby would like to explain this confusing little situation," he suggested hoarsely, gesturing at Mimic.
She slowly twisted around. Mimic was studying the floor. "Mimic?" she whispered huskily. He looked up; they made eye contact.
"Nik, I don't know how to explain this…"
And that was when she saw it: the guilt in his face. It practically oozed out of him.
He licked his lips nervously and began speaking rapidly. "My dad - Odrade, Gerald Anderby, whatever you wanna call him – he's dead, Nik. I've got no one to rely on anymore. I had to make some choices…I needed money. Maybe you've met Luke, Claire's boyfriend?"
Fantasma could barely comprehend what he was saying. She couldn't get past the look in his eyes. She was numb with shock. He kept talking.
"It was the perfect way to get you here. I knew you would never leave your best friend to die."
"Shut up, Anderby," growled Groak. "I'll start at the beginning. You're a lousy storyteller, anyway," he muttered, rasping.
Fantasma didn't turn to face him. She kept watching Mimic, trying to see some inkling of untruth in his uncertain, shuffling movements.
"Anderby – Anderby Jr. that is – has been working for me for over three years now. He and his dad were both on the same team without knowing it; neither one was aware that the other was reporting to me."
He paused, going into a racking cough. One of the guards beside him held out a goblet of something foul-looking that he accepted thanklessly.
When Groak's breathing returned to normal, he continued. "I finally decided that it was time to claim the team I'd created. I called in Anderby Sr. and let him think that he was betraying you. But here comes the real twist in your story."
He leaned forward, something akin to excitement lighting up his ancient face. "I needed a real turncoat to bring you in, but I knew of only one person who could pull it off and still seem innocent in the unfortunate case of anything going wrong." He motioned toward Mimic. "There you have it, my dear," he croaked at her, smiling. "There's the actual traitor."
"You're lying," Fantasma replied, facing him. "Your son, C-Cat betrayed us."
Then Groak started making a very odd noise. He threw his head back, gargling and coughing. It took her a minute to figure out that he was laughing. It was the most nauseating sound she'd ever heard in her life.
"He told you what? That the little grinning brat was my son? No, my dear, he's my great-great-great grandson." His harsh laugh died away to a sickening chuckle.
"That's impossible," Fantasma retorted. "There's no way anybody could live that long." Although he certainly looked old enough, she thought.
Groak shook his feeble head. "Of course there is. My son, and grandson, and so on have all possessed the same mutation, thanks to a little family experimentation. You're familiar with C-Cat's abilities, I believe?"
She nodded suspiciously.
"None of his paternal relatives lived long, and neither will he. They all got so obsessed with their abilities that they abused them. They spent too much time outside of time. And all the life they wasted, I received."
She scowled viciously. "So am I supposed to feel sorry for him?"
"For one thing, he didn't betray you. Why don't you show Miss Parker and Miss Camdon what you've been hiding, Anderby?"
"What should I do?" Mimic asked meekly.
Groak tapped his gnarled chin, thinking. "Clear up the whole mystery of Claire Wilson-Anderby."
Fantasma started. "What did you say?"
A tomato-red-haired girl appeared out of nowhere. "He was just telling you my true last name, Nikki."
Fantasma cried out. Right in front of her was Claire. She was standing completely free, just talking.
"Claire?" she whispered. She reached out her hand. Her friend's hand rose to meet hers. They touched briefly.
Then Claire disappeared. Fantasma was left standing with her fingers clutching at air.
"Looks pretty real, doesn't she?" Mimic strolled up calmly to stand beside her. "Even feels solid enough." His hands rested on the holsters that hung off his belt. He could have been wearing a baggy pair of jeans and a t-shirt.
It was only now that she realized they hadn't taken his guns. She could have smacked her forehead if she hadn't been too stunned to move.
"I ought to have her image down especially well. She's my sister, didn't you know?" he asked casually. "And her boyfriend Luke was my best friend. We grew up together. But not long after my parents divorced and I went into hiding with Dad, Luke was diagnosed with cancer. I've been the anonymous donor paying for his treatments for three years."
Mimic's face became terribly sad. "But a few months ago, I stopped sending any more money. By then, I'd realized it was hopeless. He's dying, Nikki."
"Tell me what's going on right now," she said through gritted teeth. It took all her concentration to keep from shivering in rage and terror.
Instead, Mimic continued his reminiscing. He had a far-off look in his eyes. "I haven't seen Claire in years, but I knew where we used to live. Coincidentally, I'm sure, Odrade's Fresh Food Mart ended up opening not far from our old house. And then, when I walked you to Claire's house for prom, I suddenly understood just exactly how important your little friend really was.
"There's more to my nickname than just vocal imitations, Nik. Honestly, how lame would it be if all I could do was imitate sound?"
Fantasma clenched her fists. "I didn't think it was lame," she said quietly.
He acted as though he hadn't heard her. "I can mimic people too, sort of like illusions, except real enough to interact with other people and objects." Mimic stopped. He appeared to be waiting for some kind of response from her.
"And?"
He threw up his hands in exasperation. "Doesn't that explain everything?"
Fantasma had to fight to keep her arms at her sides. She desperately wanted to punch that stupid look off his face. "No. Do enlighten me." Sarcasm dripped from her words.
"All right. Let's start at the beginning then." He began to slowly circling her while he spoke.
"The first time you saw me use these powers was back during the second night after you arrived. You may vaguely remember a certain battle between Spider-Man and a kid named Warren that made you think twice about going home?"
Her brain flicked back to the awful memory.
Blood splattered on the ground about the boy as he landed in a crumpled heap, staining the dank alley an ugly red. For what seemed like an eternity, he didn't move. At last, he struggled into a sitting position, one leg twisted at a weird angle; it was broken.
His short, once blond hair had been matted in different directions by his attempts to quickly smear the blood off his face. He sat there, glaring scathingly at the other kid who hung back in the darkness of the alley.
"What, are ya afraid tuh come an' finish me off? 'Fraid that some punk might see ya wailin' on an innocent kid?" the boy taunted. "That'd ruin yer rep now, woodn'it?"
The bigger kid snorted in disbelief.
"Don' think I'm innocent, huh? Ya little – "
Fantasma winced at the expletive.
The boy continued, painfully raising a shaking arm to point accusingly at his attacker who had begun pacing, as though considering finishing what he had started.
Fantasma forced herself to remain motionless. She could feel the horror and righteous fury welling up inside her, begging to be let loose on this murderous creature who dared to call himself a human.
"I know yer true colors now. If ya let me go, I'll tell everybody that yer a murderer." The kid lifted his head defiantly. "Come on, now. Come an' get me, Spider-Man."
At this, the familiar red and blue vigilante shot out of the shadows, grabbing the kid by his shoulders and lifting him into the air. The boy refused to cry out as a pair of gloved hands slammed him into the wall, and then dropped him.
Something dawned on her. "None of it was real," Fantasma whispered. She looked Mimic directly in the eye. "You created both those people. They were illusions." She was disgusted.
"Actually," he corrected her, "they were more like mirror images – dolls, if you will – of the real Spider-Man and Warren. But yeah, I created them." He waved away his words as though they were nothing.
But they cut Fantasma to the quick. "You created those soldiers who helped us escape from here last time!"
He tossed his head with pretend modesty. "Oh, that was nothing."
"Why did you help us escape? Groak had us right where he wanted us."
Mimic narrowed his eyes in the old man's direction. What he said next was aimed more at Groak than her. "He hadn't bothered to mention that my father was trying to betray me. So after dear old Dad got his just desserts, I decided it was time to go. Groak and I reached a monetary agreement later."
"You traded us for money," Nikki said tonelessly.
Laughing, the horrible young man touched her cheek. She jerked away.
"And I created a copy of a man named Kurt Wagner to help us sneak into the X-Mansion to get Allie. But we're skipping ahead." He considered her for a while. She glared back fiercely.
"You never really blamed C-Cat like the others did. I still don't understand why you trusted him," said Mimic.
"I guess I must have some instinct that picks out the lying cowards from the victims," she offered bitingly.
Involuntarily, he wrapped his fingers wrapped around the pistol. Fantasma squared her jaw, daring him to raise the gun.
But he laughed and released the weapon. "You've gotten so brave, Nik. Or maybe just reckless." The smile on his face didn't reach past his mouth.
"I don't have time for this," she said frigidly. "Finish the story."
Mimic's smile faded. "Fine."
He resumed pacing around her. "The second time I really used them against you was the night C-Cat led you to Groak's compound. Or, should I say, this C-Cat?"
C-Cat materialized before them, the perpetual grin plastered on his face. Then he chortled and disappeared into thin air.
"I had already used the imitation C-Cat to bring Allie and Thorn here, and then I created a false Spider-Man to lead Spider-Girl to the compound. But you were the trickiest.
"How on earth could I fool you into wandering straight into a trap? You were already talking to C-Cat. At least, I knew you were about to because I saw him walk up and grab your arm. I was sitting in a parked car on the other side of the street."
"Hold on," Fantasma interrupted. "How could you know what happened? He took me into his little…dimension, or whatever it is."
Mimic shrugged. "Sure, as soon as he touched you, he disappeared."
"And while he was acting all concerned about me, you couldn't see anything. But then he freaked out and vanished," she surmised. Little pieces were starting to float into place.
"Yes. And do you know why he got angry?" Mimic was grinning broadly now. "He saw me spying on you! Isn't that crazy?"
Fantasma said nothing, not entirely sure how this fit with the rest of the puzzle.
"He attacked me! One second, he was standing beside you, and the next thing I knew, he was in the car trying to wring my neck."
She closed her eyes. "So he realized what was going on. He was trying to protect me."
Mimic clapped her on the shoulder. "Good man, huh?"
Shuddering, Fantasma brushed his gloved hand away. "You must have beaten him up."
"Yep. I was in the backseat, gagging and choking. But the little creep hadn't counted on the driver. Groak had sent one of his men to drive me around that evening so I could concentrate. The soldier turned around pistol-whipped him. After pushing the unconscious kid off of me, I had the driver pull past you, around a corner. I think you saw the car?"
Fantasma nodded bitterly. Yes, she had seen it. But she had been too frightened to look inside at the passengers.
"The driver took the car into an alleyway. While he tied up C-Cat and stashed him in a dumpster, I started creating the illusory C-Cat that threw pieces of sidewalk at you."
Touching the small bump on her collarbone, Fantasma could almost feel the stone smashing into her neck, could still hear the crunching snap of bone.
"The driver got back in the car and as we began the journey to the compound, the fake C-Cat started you out on your chase. And you know the rest."
There was grand total of fifteen seconds of silence following his revelation. Nobody moved. Then the throne room burst into shrieking sirens.
People scattered. Fantasma ducked instinctively, plugging her ears. Her gaze darted back and forth, taking stock of the situation.
Two items of interest caught her attention. One was that Thorn and Krystelle were nowhere to be seen. The other was that all the guards were in chaos and Mimic was standing beside her completely dumbfounded.
A tremor traveled through her body; her powers had returned. No doubt the alarms had been enough to distract Groak. He was sitting pathetically on his throne and croaking weakly for his followers.
Fantasma turned to Mimic. "You," she snarled over the noise, "are the most cowardly wimp I have ever met in my life, second to none."
Mimic was so completely taken aback by the outburst that he only gawked at her, his mouth hanging open.
But she wasn't done yet. "You lied to me, Jake. I thought you loved me." She glowered, repulsed. "What a joke. I don't think you even cared about Krystelle – you just used her. Creep."
Mimic started backing up, his eyes following her enraged movements with nervous precision. "Nik, you don't understand. It was never about Allie. As soon as I met you, I fell in love with you."
Catching sight of her barred teeth, he talked even faster. "We were meant to be together. Groak promised that after you joined him, we would both be safe. I was only looking out for your best interest." He tried to be charming, tried to flash her that winning smile that had melted her heat once upon a time.
But it wasn't working anymore.
"Come on, Nik." He was pleading with her now. "We can still stop this. We can still be the perfect team. We'll steal lots of cash, and when we're rich, we'll run away and forget all about Groak."
Run away again? Her head was spinning. The whole reason she was in this stupid mess in the first place was because she had run away. She thought of the short conversation with Allie at the hotel room. She remembered Jake's frustration with his unloving father.
Fantasma already had everything that Allie and Jake wanted – things they wanted so badly that they were willing to live a life of crime and isolation in a wretched attempt to fill the void left by a ruined family. And Mimic was trying to convince her to give all that up for good?
"You think Groak will just let you take his money and go?" She shook her head at his foolish stupidity. In the end, he was just a pitiable idiot.
Mimic, mistaking the lessened intensity of her advance for a sign of backing off, tried to recover some lost ground. "I promise I'll take care of you, Nik."
She ignored him and began walking away.
He grabbed her arm.
Nikki ghosted through his grip but was so incense that she lacked the concentration to take her sleeve with her. She barely heard the rip; one minute the cloth was being tugged off her arm, the next it was gone.
"I've already made sure that Groak won't experiment on you like the others."
Bad move.
Wide-eyed, her cheeks went from an appalled white to an incensed red in a few seconds. Fantasma shrieked, "You're more of a freak than C-Cat ever pretended to be!"
Before he could respond, she drew back her fist and decked him squarely in the jaw.
Mimic didn't utter a sound as he hurtled backwards across the room to land in a limp heap on the floor by the wall. She found a strange satisfaction in the bruises washing over his face in a surprisingly wide range of colors.
Wasting no time, Fantasma dashed through the pandemonium in the throne room. She made a beeline for the wide-open doorway. As she ran, she could feel multiple tremors passing through her. Each one slowed her down, like getting socked in the stomach. They were so frequent that she was no longer sure if she had her powers anymore or not.
That accursed Groak.
"Stop, Mutie!" A soldier leaped in front of her, holding up a semi-automatic.
She screeched to a halt, eyeing the gun. This was definitely not the ideal time to figure out if she still had her powers.
"Hands in the air, against the wall!" he ordered.
Trying to think at a dizzying speed, Fantasma smiled prettily. "Hey, now. That's not very nice to go calling people names." She put her hands on her hips. "I mean, how would you like it if I – Hey, what's that?" She pointed past him, over his left shoulder.
He didn't even begin curving his vision. "Yeah right, Mutie." He cocked the gun. "Like I haven't heard that one a mill-"
"Shoulda listened this time, then," cried Spider-Girl, swooping down out of the hallway. Her knuckles connected with the back of his head, sending the surprised man flying. "You really have a trust issue, you know that?"
She regarded Fantasma curiously. "Aren't you the saved me last time?"
Before Fantasma could reply, Spider-Man came whizzing around the corner with the Black Cat following close behind. Wind tugged her hair in front of her face, covering up what the mask failed to. They both flew past her and into the fray.
Spider-Girl hesitated, still waiting for an answer. "Guess I'm just returning the favor," she said, shrugging, then cast a web-line into the air that carried her after her father.
"Dad?" Fantasma whispered. He hadn't even given her a second glance. She wilted a little before remembering that she was wearing her costume. How could he recognize her?
In pursuit was another herd of Groak's reinforcements. They rounded the corner and raced down the hallway toward the throne room. She was forced to dart out of the way or risk being trampled, shot, or captured.
A laser blast informed her that the X-Men had arrived. Their party seemed awfully small for going up against the multitude of soldiers that kept streaming in. Until she saw them in action.
Wolverine dropped into a crouch, snarling, claws extended. A soldier shot him in the arm. Wolverine roared in pain and rage as he lunged forward, impaling the helpless man on his claws.
Cyclops cleared a path with a wide-spread, fiery beam from his visor. Men screamed. In a cloud of sulfurous smoke, a demonic-looking blue creature about the size of a man - but with only three fingers - appeared out of nowhere beside him.
BAMF.
His pointed tail thrashed around tensely. Another soldier called out something that sounded like a prayer as he aimed his rifle. The blue man snapped something in German. Then he pounced on the terrified man and disappeared again, taking the soldier with him
BAMF.
Fantasma found herself backed against the wall watching her father and sister fighting a battle.
Her battle.
Without really thinking about what she was doing, she launched herself into the struggle. It took only than two measly punches and equal near-misses to figure out that she was no longer in possession of her powers. Spider-Girl really did deserve the credit for saving her after all.
Fantasma made her way out of the brawl – fast. There was little she could do to help without her powers.
She strained to see Groak. Had he been knocked out? Why wasn't he stealing anyone else's powers? Her gaze settled on his throne. It was empty.
Her jaw dropped. "How on earth could that half-dead man move anywhere?" she asked aloud.
A creepy, double voice answered her. "Good question."
A boy of seventeen or eighteen years of age with wild eyes and hair to match was leaning against the wall beside her. His arms were crossed as he surveyed the clash taking place before them.
Fantasma touched his shoulder, and he looked at her. Her hand flew to her mouth. "C-Cat?" she breathed, disbelieving. She was at a complete loss for words.
He saluted her impishly. It was C-Cat, all right.
For some time, she remained motionless. Part of her wanted to wrap him in a warm hug, and another part wanted to get away from the child of Groak's lineage. As a sort of happy medium, she did nothing.
Another tremor hit her. This one was harder than the last. Fantasma caught her breath, her legs nearly buckling under her. The tremors seemed to be getting stronger the more often they occurred.
"Nikki?" C-Cat said questioningly.
By way of an answer, she ghosted her hand into the wall and back out again.
"Nikki, as brilliant as that is," he looked doubtful, "your glow is like a target in this dark room."
A flash of gunfire followed his insightful comment. But this time Fantasma had a forewarning. She threw her arms around C-Cat, ghosting them both through the bullets before letting him go.
She wasn't about to wait around to be noticed. Grabbing C-Cat's hand, she dragged him toward the doorway, ghosting indiscriminately through unsuspecting and attacking soldiers alike.
"Where are we going?" he yelled.
"To find Groak." A thought hit her. "Do you know where he would be?"
C-Cat's hand twitched faintly in her own. "Yes," he said somewhat begrudgingly. "Take a left up here…now a right…another right." She obeyed his directions, following a complex route through musty corridors.
They arrived. But they weren't the first ones.
It appeared that Thorn had also known where to find Groak. She was standing protectively by Krystelle, her silver tendrils whipping and flashing about them agitatedly. Their backs were to the entrance of the small cavern.
Groak slouched weakly in a small chair at the back of the large room. A dispatch of about twenty soldiers barred the way between Thorn and Krystelle and Groak. They had their weapons cocked and ready. They meant business.
"You two set off the alarms, did you not?" Groak was saying harshly. "I had practically forgotten that we even had them."
Thorn nodded proudly. "We snuck off while you and your moronic guards were listening to that boy," she spat the word, "reveal your whole diabolical plot."
Groak gargle-laughed again. "And what good will those alarms do you?"
"For one thing, they led the X-Men and Spider-Man right to you."
"And how did they know you would be here?" Groak seemed mildly curious.
She smiled. "How else? The one chink in your impenetrable armor: C-Cat."
"Ah," Groak leaned back. "So he went against my wishes and asked for help. But no matter. With a snap of my fingers, every person in the throne room and in my domain will become powerless. After that, we will capture them easily."
"And that's why we're here to stop you," said Fantasma boldly, declaring their presence.
He nodded indulgently. "Of course, my dear. And you do realize that if I die while keeping hold of anyone's powers, those abilities will be lost forever?"
The snag in her marvelous plan.
Fantasma ground her teeth in frustration. She was able to stand her ground and keep up her composure, though it cost a great deal of willpower. "Then I guess some sacrifices have to be made."
Krystelle was looking at her oddly. There was something different about her, a kind of peace that suddenly spread through her.
Groak continued goading Fantasma. "Are you willing to be that sacrifice, Nicole Parker? No mutant can come within a three-foot radius of me without losing their powers."
Fantasma swallowed hard. C-Cat tightened his grip on her hand. She had forgotten that he was still holding it.
"Nikki," said Thorn in a carrying voice, not once letting her eyes leave Groak, "the only reason he's making the effort to talk you out of this is because he sees you as a threat."
Groak roared with unpleasant laughter, but Fantasma was sure she detected a hint of fear. "You might be able to get close enough to kill me, but you will have no way to save yourself. My soldiers will shoot you the instant your powers are gone." His black eyes twinkled evilly. "Still want to be the sacrifice?"
There was a long minute when nobody moved. Just as Fantasma, understanding her apparent destiny, was about to pull away from C-Cat's tight grip, someone broke the silence.
"She doesn't have to," Krystelle said, surprising them all. A solid sheen of crystal blossomed in the center of the girl's chest, spreading outward and enveloped her entire body. Armor.
Fantasma bit her lip.
Krystelle's crystal eye winked at them. "A guy at school showed me this."
Behind her cocky, devil-may-care attitude, Fantasma sensed a deep regret surging through the other girl. What on earth could she possibly be planning? Surely she wasn't that crazy…
Krystelle addressed Groak again. She made a striking figure, standing tall: her body completely sheathed in gleaming stone with a halo of white-blonde hair that nearly glowed in the darkness. "You had my father killed, Groak, and my mother thrown in jail. You destroyed my only chance at a normal life."
Thorn let out a cry, finally comprehending Krystelle's insane objective. She made a grab for the girl to stop her. But Thorn was too late.
The crystal-encased teenager didn't even turn around. She raised her hand over her shoulder, flat palm facing the group behind her. Just as with her armor, the crystal began as a pinpoint of shimmering rose in the center of her palm. It spread rapidly, shooting off in all directions. Thorn almost ran into it.
Fantasma barely noticed C-Cat's hand painfully tightening on hers as Krystelle walled herself off in the other half of the room. The blonde girl was sealed inside, away from their help.
It was a tomb.
The three teammates could barely make out her next, and last, words. There must have been some miniscule crevice just large enough to let out sound. They would never find out if it had been created intentionally.
Krystelle spoke, her voice riddled with bitterness. "It's time to pay, Groak. I'm gonna make you regret my lost family as much as I do, 'cause now I have nothing left to live for."
Holding a singl, gleaming pink dagger of crystal in her raised hand, she shoved her way through the soldiers. Their bullets only glanced off her makeshift armor, leaving nicks that had to be continually repaired. As each new crevice was created, it swelled shut again. But this was no easy task. The soldiers were completely unloading on her at point blank range.
Fantasma, Thorn, and C-Cat, petrified, watched the whole ghastly scene. It was as if there was some sort of sick movie screen separating them from the carnage taking place only a few yards away.
Fantasma shuddered involuntarily. Bullets were ricocheting off the crystal, taking down other targets. Soldiers were dying all around Krystelle, even as they prepared to murder her. They knew that they were going to die. It was only a matter of time.
One masked man fell back against the crystal wall with a thud. His body slid to the ground, his head lolling forward. A long, bloody smear remained in his wake. Dead.
After what felt like ages, Krystelle reached the three-foot radius. They knew she had hit it because her armor suddenly stopped reconstructing. She started taking bullets.
With a blood-enraged scream, Krystelle charged forward, crystal knife held aloft. She landed in a crumpled heap on the foul old man.
He yelped once in pain and then was still.
But that shriek sent a final tremor through the room, one that nobody could avoid. It hit Fantasma full on, sending her reeling. Her vision blurred; she saw stars. Releasing C-Cat's hand, she saw him double up in pain through her misty eyesight. In front of her, Thorn collapsed. Motion swirled about her and people shouted, but she could no longer comprehend anything.
She hung in the delicate balance between fainting and an excruciating migraine.
When her pounding head returned to normal a few minutes later, Fantasma rose stiffly to her knees on the cold floor. Her legs had gone numb. At some point in the agony, she had fallen to the ground. Kneading her temples with her fingers, she took in the ghastly sight.
The room was almost completely empty. Presumably the soldiers were all dead or dying. Also, there were no more ghostly reverberations of fighting in the distance. She assumed that the remaining survivors in the throne room had given up. They must have known the futility of fighting all the mutants flooding their tunnels without their corpse-like leader.
The only living ones left in the dark chamber were an unconscious C-Cat, the slowly reviving Thorn, and herself. The two dead people slumped over the chair at the back of the room felt like the focal point of a demented painting.
Fantasma couldn't look at Krystelle. Suffice it to say, the girl was pretty much unrecognizable.
Feeling numb, Fantasma crawled across the icy stones to C-Cat's limp body. He was curled up in the fetal position, shivering. She cautiously rolled him over. Other than a nasty lump on the side of his head where he must have hit the floor, he was unharmed.
She hoped he didn't have a concussion. What is it that you're supposed to do with those again?
Thorn staggered over to her. Fantasma craned her neck back with some difficulty to look up into her face. The woman's eyes had glazed over in shock. She held out her hands, palms facing up.
"They're gone," she said expressionlessly.
Their powers had been snatched away. Permanently.
Fantasma tried to make her hand glow, tried as hard as she could. But there was nothing. The inner connection had been severed. The strange abilities she had once feared, the powers she had come to rely on, had gone away forever.
It would seem like the perfect time to cry…but what was the point? Fantasma wasn't even sure she could. She returned Thorn's gaze, the two comrades silently acknowledging their shared desolation.
Footsteps pounded down the hallway.
"Where are they?"
"Are you sure they went this way?"
"In here!"
Thorn regained her use of speech first and met them in the hallway. Fantasma stayed where she was, keeping a mournful vigil of the insensible boy. He would have lost his powers too.
How would it affect him? He shivered feverishly. Fantasma tenderly cradled his head in her lap, rocking slowly from side to side. She stroked his disheveled hair with shuddering, uneven motions.
Spider-Man halted mid-swing, almost missing the chamber. There were an insane number of rooms and hallways in this underground rat hole. And they were allcrawling with lackeys. The whole setup reminded him of an ant colony. It would take forever to chase everything out.
The one thing that was seriously worrying him right now was the kids.
Emma Frost had first discovered them during a psychic sweep of the place from outside. She had declined to participate in the search, preferring to return to the X-Mansion to take care of some other business.
According to Emma, somewhere in the tunnels was a troublingly large group of children and teenagers. They were being held against their will. Most of them were scared, if not terrified.
That was all she could gather from such a distance.
It was running through all their minds, but nobody said it aloud: mutant experimentation.
Spider-Man had guessed instantly that Nikki would be with them. He had to find her. Now he that he knew what to look for – an area of holding cells filled with children, most likely – why wait for the others to catch up?
Hence he was swinging through hallways, picking directions at random, and virtually lost.
During his hasty search for Nikki, he had glimpsed sparkling glass in this room, or something like it. He veered off sharply. Black Cat barely beat him to the entrance, but he landed beside her in an instant.
An unfamiliar woman blocked the doorway. She was conspicuous despite being covered completely in black, utilizing her full height. She seemed like a shadow that had just stepped away from the wall; darkness still clung to her, reluctant to release its hold as though it knew her best.
"Can I help you?" the shade-woman inquired. Her shoulders didn't slump in spite of the utter fatigue that was draped around her like a cloak.
"We're looking for two teenage girls," Spider-Man informed her brusquely, wondering if it would be easier to just knock her aside and look for himself. He didn't ask who she was. At the moment, he really didn't care. "A brunette and a blonde. Have you seen them?"
The costumed woman considered him with a forced imperiousness. There was an unusual edge to her voice. If he hadn't been so preoccupied, Spidey would have recognized the haunting undertones of someone who had recently had the very essence of life snatched away. "They're in here."
Black Cat tried to peer around the tall stranger. "Who are you?" she said somewhat distractedly.
The woman stood even straighter, if that was possible, talking over Spider-Man's next question. "Yes, Mr. Parker, she's safe. But Mrs. – "
"Just call me Black Cat."
"Black Cat, I really must warn you that you may be…ah…unsettled by what you see – "
Spider-Man was done waiting around. "Nikki?" he called. He jostled past the woman in the doorway, hardly noticing how surprisingly frail she felt as he brushed her out of the way. Her once formidable figure sagged against the doorframe hopelessly.
He didn't even grant the woman a fleeting look. His eyes were busy traveling to the massacre behind the veil of rose-tinted crystal in the back of the room.
Blood coated the crystal like splatter-paint. One man half sat, half leaned against the transparent wall. His neck hung to the side at an unnatural angle.
"What happened here?" Sickened, Spidey clasped his hands behind head and then promptly dropped them to his sides. He's seen gory battles before, but this was butchery. The pungent odor of death assailed his nostrils.
All those men had died in that tiny chamber with absolutely no chance of escaping. A claustrophobic's nightmare. "What happened here?" he repeated, swallowing back the bile rising in his throat. Why did they all kill each other?
Nobody answered him. Black Cat was still standing in the doorway beside the unknown woman.
Spider-Man gradually became aware of motion to his right. He twisted in that direction.
A costumed girl was sitting cross-legged, hunched over a similarly attired boy. The boy appeared to be unconscious. He was much taller than her; his gangly legs stretched out across the damp floor. She swayed gently, holding his head in her lap.
Neither one was familiar to Spider-Man. They were just two traumatized victims of this cruel underground world. He once again recalled being briefed by the X-Men before entering Groak's domain and their hints about mutant testing, especially on children and teenagers.
Nevertheless, he crossed the room and knelt beside the girl. "Can I help?"
Flinching at his near proximity, she slowly turned her head to meet the blank eyes of his mask. Her own were framed in curling black trim, but just as vacant. She shrugged listlessly. "Dunno." Her voice was hoarse from unshed tears.
Spider-Man didn't recognize her voice, though his mind registered that he might have met her before. "What's the matter with him?"
She didn't respond.
Sighing, he reached to pick the boy up. Suddenly the girl came alive, startling violently and shoving him away, the ferocity of the attack almost knocking him over.
Spider-Man backed up warily and held up his hands in a harmless gesture. He'd dealt with plenty of disturbed and stupefied people in his day. "Whoa, it's okay, it's okay. I'm not gonna hurt him. I have friends here that can help." Watching her closely, he bent down once more.
This time she allowed him to gather the limp boy up in his arms, but let him know that "no one can help him now."
As Spidey raised the strange kid off the floor, a fever-induced reflex made the boy grasp about frantically. His fingers managed to snag the ties of the girl's mask as she got to her feet too. It slipped off her face, hanging flaccidly around her neck like a bedraggled bandana. She looked up.
Thunderstruck, Spider-Man nearly dropped the boy. A flashlight swept through the chamber, making the bloodied crystal glitter. Recognition sparked in the girl's face.
"Nikki?"
"D-Dad?"
His throat went dry.
The flashlight made another sweep of the room, momentarily lighting up her ashen skin. Her shoulders were bare; one of her sleeves had been torn clean off. Flecks of blood that may or may not have been her own stood out on her cheek like cherries in cream. She was shivering visibly, her arms covered in goose bumps.
With some awkwardness due to the nearly-grown boy he was carrying, Spider-Man leaned forward, inviting a hug. He didn't dare speak. The moment felt almost too fragile. One word and the whole scene would shatter into a million pieces like the window at the prison.
Delicate.
Was this all a dream? I don't ever want to wake up.
His arms already full, he couldn't reach initiate the embrace. It was up to Nikki to grant him that.
In all honesty, he wasn't sure if he'd get one.
Nikki didn't understand the gesture at first. Her brain was still regrouping. Her father, Spider-Man, Peter Parker: he was standing in front of her.
When it finally clicked, she hesitated. She could almost smell the fear radiating off him. Fear that she would reject him, that she wouldn't want to forgive and be forgiven.
C-Cat mumbled fitfully in his sleep.
She considered Jake and Allie, both set on destroying their lives because they couldn't have what she was being offered right now.
One thought stamped itself prominently in her mind, forcing back everything else.
I have to see his face.
To her father's surprise, she reached up with both hands and took hold of his mask. He let her whisk it off.
His hair was grayer. He didn't appear to have shaved this morning and was looking distinctly scruffy. What did Mom look like now? Was she still dying her hair? They were two years older now.
What have I been missing?
She flung herself on him, nearly sending him sprawling despite her missing abilities.
He hadn't expected such a dramatic response. Staggering a little, he squeezed his eyes shut. Two years since he had laid eyes on his daughter…two years since he had been able to say…
"I love you."
Suddenly, she shrank away. "They're gone," she said, extending her arms to show him.
Spider-Man was puzzled. "What are you – what are you talking about?" He had absolutely no idea what she meant. "Who are they?"
There was defiance in her eyes, as though she was daring him to think ill of her, waiting for him to recoil.
Can't you see?
Don't you know?
Will you even want me anymore?
Nikki let her arms fall to her sides. "Daddy," she said, patiently. "They're gone now. Groak took them away."
Why couldn't he understand?
Still trying to decipher the mysterious expression on her chalky face, he demanded, "Who is she talking about?" A quivering note of panic slipped through.
Thorn answered from the doorway. "Her powers, Mr. Parker. Her powers are gone." She added more softly, "As are mine."
Nikki saw the horror pass across his face. Was there a hint of revulsion as well?
"Oh, Nikki," he said, appalled. "What did they do to you?"
A group had gathered in the hallway, viewing the emotional reunion, nearly forgetting the mess they had yet to clean up. Black Cat, attention no longer diverted, started trying to push past Thorn again. "Let me through!"
"Really, I don't know if you should see this, Ma'am…"
Black Cat broke away. Overhearing Spider-Man's conversation with his child was making her anxious to find her own baby. She took three steps into the room then screamed bloody murder. "Noooo! Allison! She raced across the chamber, wide eyes locked on what had once been her daughter.
Blocked by the crystal, she slapped her palm against it. "No! No!" she screeched shrilly.
Several of the X-Men entered the room: Cyclops, Wolverine, and a man in a trench coat that Nikki didn't know. Cyclops sympathetically led the panic-stricken woman away while the trench coat-man began flinging playing cards at the sheer wall. Before the pointlessness of what he was doing had time to register, the cards began exploding, taking the crystal with it.
Spider-Man shielded both C-Cat and Nikki with his body. She covered her ears, wincing as debris flew past. She watched the heartbreaking scene from the safety of her father's side.
Before the smoke had cleared, Black Cat was off like a shot through the hole. She fell upon her deceased daughter, weeping. Her grief-filled sobs echoed throughout the chamber. Spider-Man drew Nikki to him tightly. This time, she remained in his arms.
C-Cat raised his head groggily between them. His eyes were rolling around, barely able to focus, but he managed to make out the terrible picture of Black Cat clinging to the dead Allison Camdon.
For the first time out of his own dimension, he sounded like a normal teenaged boy. Shaking his woozy head, he uttered the horrible words running through Nikki's mind.
"That could've been me." Then he passed out.
The next few hours were a blur for Nikki. Her father, despite his better judgment opted to leave her in the throne room surrounded by X-Men while he attempted to comfort the inconsolable Felicia. He had replaced his mask.
The chamber was swarming with kids Nikki's age now. They were running around, crying, and shrieking with unrestrained glee at their freedom. Only a few of the sadder cases were incapacitated, though almost all of them had undergone some form of experimentation. That would have been my fate, she thought, if Dad hadn't shown up.
Eventually, her sister found her.
"NIKKI!" Spider-Girl hollered delightedly from half-way across the room. Nikki grinned and gave a small wave. Then she cringed, preparing to be bowled over as Spider-Girl swooped into the air, over the heads of the people separating them.
She landed gracefully, scooping her older sister off the floor and swinging her around in dizzying circles. Nikki found that overexcited little sisters with super-strength could be hazardous to one's health.
"Argh, lemme go, you crazy girl!"
Spider-Girl set her down and proceeded to talk a mile a minute. "I missed you so much! We thought you were dead, but then when I saw you down here last time…I was just sure that it had to be you. I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! I can't believe you left us, but I'm so glad we found you again."
She pranced around with giddy energy, grabbing Nikki's hands and twirling her into a madcap waltz. "Do you have any idea how amazing it is to finally be able to share what I am with somebody else? It'll be freaking awesome!"
She finally stopped dancing, cheeks flushed and eyes bright.
Nikki felt herself shrinking inside. All those plans. How long had May been dreaming those up?
Dad still loved her, but he was her father. Besides, he probably felt somewhat responsible for what had happened to her.
May was…May was different. She had no obligation to accept her sister again. How would she take the news?
"Slow down, okay?" She could no longer hold onto a fake smile. "Oh, May, all that would've been a lot of fun, but I've changed now, in…irreversible ways."
Spider-Girl's enthusiasm didn't wane in the slightest. "What the heck are you talkin' about?"
How do I tell her?
Nikki took a deep breath. Everything came out in a rush. "My abilities. Wall-climbing, strength, walking through walls – man, I wish you could have seen more of that, May. It was incredible! All of that's been taken away. Groak, he stole our powers."
Spider-Girl took a step back, dazed.
"Of course, I never had any of those web-shooter-thingies that you and Dad use. I think maybe my ghosting abilities messed that up."
…
"May?"
Snapping out of her stupor, Spider-Girl gently took her sister in her arms again. She was so careful this time.
Oh gosh, Nikki thought, rolling her eyes, she's afraid of crushing me.
She squeezed back as hard as she could. Spider-Girl, catching on, increased pressure until Nikki really was in danger of being squished.
Both girls broke apart laughing, one of them still gasping for breath.
Before they could begin catching up on two years of separate lives, Thorn appeared out of nowhere. She took Nikki's arm, inclining her head slightly to acknowledge Spider-Girl.
"Where are you going?" Spider-Girl began to follow.
Nikki waved her off. "I'll be back. Don't worry." She tried to tell the same thing to her stomach which was flipping about nervously.
Thorn led the mystified girl back down the hallway, ducking into an antechamber.
"What do you want?" Nikki asked.
Thorn poked her head out of the room, ascertaining that they were completely alone. She removed her mask. Nikki imagined that Thorn would have been wringing her hands if she was any lesser of a woman.
Then: "This is a mess. Do you realize that? I let everything go haywire, and now I'm going to pay big time." She rubbed her forehead, trying to settle down. "As if I haven't paid the highest price already," she muttered.
"What?"
Thorn grimaced. "Shut up. Just shut up." She scrubbed at her forehead again, one hand gliding over her head to tug at her hair in distress. After a few calming breaths, she said more properly, although she nearly lost it at the end, "Sorry. I don't have much time to try to fix some of this. And so help me, I am going to try!"
Nikki winced. Thorn was nearly hysterical. She composed herself once again with supreme effort.
"My superiors – ha, you didn't know I had any superiors, did you? – they are going to murder me when they hear about the disaster that was this mission." She kept her cool from now on. "I work for S.H.I.E.L.D., ever heard of it?"
Nikki shook her head.
"Whatever. All you need to know is that it's a government organization. Dear old dad could tell you all about it. Now this is where it gets important. They've known about Groak for years, but when they got wind of possible 'mutant experimentation,' they decided it was time to send somebody in. Me."
Thorn continued with a passion that Nikki had never before witnessed.
"It was completely wrong, you know that don't you? What Groak was doing? So I agreed to it. There was mostly just a lot of recon at first, but then they had an idea. They knew that Groak was somehow getting a hold of child mutants, but they needed to know where he was getting them.
"So about three and a half years ago, I managed to catch Groak in the middle of an important conversation. It was gold, really. Solid gold. Exactly what we were waiting for. He was meeting with a certain Gerald Anderby who was begging for cash in order to start a group of mutant thieves.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. decided that this was the perfect opportunity to really go undercover, not just underground. I was young enough to seem reckless and unbridled, but old enough to have a past of some pretty serious thieving jobs."
Nikki cut in. "You'd been a thief before Groak?"
Thorn motioned for her to be silent. "I don't have a lot of time, okay? But yeah, I was a contract thief before I joined S.H.I.E.L.D. You may not remember that you met my old partner, Skylar, at a soccer game a year and a half ago.
"But I digress. I signed on with 'Veron Odrade,' S.H.I.E.L.D. easily monitoring the whole mission. The crew Odrade obtained was less than spectacular, I thought. Groak's great-great-great-etc. grandson, Odrade's unstable son, and some spit-back girl from the X-Mansion.
"Then you came along. That was when things started to unravel. You weren't just another street kid. You were Spider-Man's daughter, for crying out loud! But Groak and Odrade had somehow contrived a complex scheme to get you involved. It would have been impossible to pull you out without causing a lot of suspicion, and we were making major progress. Although I certainly did my best to encourage you to leave on your own."
Ashamed, Nikki admitted, "I was gonna break up the group from the inside, Thorn. They were blackmailing me. It sounded like such a great idea at the time…"
Thorn curled her lip in distain. "It was a fool's errand. I couldn't help you, and you were too mulish to ask for your father's assistance. But that's in the past now. You saw how everything leapt out of control from then on. S.H.I.E.L.D. was ready to pull the plug, but then C-Cat, or I guess Jacob Anderby, betrayed us to Groak. There wasn't a way in the world that they would give up after that. And I argued with them like crazy, post-escape.
"They wouldn't listen. They were willing to take you in at some fancy, secretive hospital to sew you up, but they would not pull out."
Nikki broke in. "I think I can finish the story." Her fingers stung with cold, but her heart was ice. "You blew it. We ended up in a battle to the death, the X-Men and my dad got involved, we all lost our powers, and one of your charges was killed doing what you should have done."
Thorn gasped as though struck.
But Nikki didn't back off. "Allie died in you place as much as in mine!"
"If even half of this is true…" an ominous male voice thundered from the doorway.
Both Nikki and Thorn jumped and whirled to face Spider-Man. He was outraged. Thorn moved protectively in front of Nikki. "Don't you dare say anything! She has a right to make her decision."
"What decision?" asked Nikki.
Thorn and Spider-Man were staring each other down.
"What decision," she said, even louder.
Thorn answered, "What you'll do now."
"She'll come home with me where she belongs," growled Spider-Man. Clearly, Thorn didn't understand the danger she was putting herself into.
"No," countered Thorn. "She chooses. Not you." She turned to face a very confused Nikki. "Nicole, the plan was not to send any of you back to your parents. Heck, you were the only one who had decent parents to go back to in the first place."
"Why?" Nikki said, feeling very small and out of control.
"To give you the less obvious reason: S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't sure how any of you would handle the transition back into normal life. It would be jarring, for sure. Some of you might snap and run away again. We were going to recruit you into S.H.I.E.L.D. - "
"I can't believe what I'm hearing," Spider-Man interrupted, nearly livid.
Incensed, Thorn turned on him. "So this whole thing is a mess, and I can't help it if you weren't supposed to find your daughter like this – "
"Or at all, sounds like!"
Thorn turned white with rage. "Will you just listen?"
Nikki let her head droop. She was exhausted and sick of bickering. Her father had moved out of the doorway by now, toward Thorn. She crept around them.
Her father's unusual sixth sense – which she would later learn to call spider-sense – alerted him to her leaving. "Nikki?"
"I'm staying with you, Daddy," she said quietly and kept walking. "I love you."
His tone warmed considerably. "I love you too." Then he returned to protective-mode. "Here that?" he challenged Thorn.
Thorn snapped back, "She doesn't know what she's saying. She's just a kid – "
"Exactly!"
" – and the transition could be too much…"
Their raised voices faded into the gloom of Groak's crumbling domain. Nikki wandered farther away, only vaguely aware of her surroundings.
What would become of her now? Dad wouldn't let them take her away and she didn't want them too, but Thorn was right about one thing: going back home to live under her parents' rule was going to be a shock after having little to no authority over her for so long.
"Nikki?"
Nikki jumped. She'd been so lost in her thoughts.
A young man holding a large bag of ice to his upper forehead approached her. "Nikki? Where were you going?"
"C-Cat, is that you?"
He chuckled in answer. She managed not to shudder. It was still weird but didn't grate on her nerves anymore. In fact, he was about the only person she was truly glad to see right now.
"You know," she said shyly, yanking herself up out of the pit of worry that was pulling at her, "I never got to thank you for trying to save me from Jake."
C-Cat shrugged. "You would have done the same for me."
"Yeah, I guess so." Nikki scuffed her shoe against the grimy floor. "It still means a lot. You got tied up and chucked in a dumpster after all. That must've been awful. How'd you get out anyway?"
"I wriggled free. He didn't tie me that tightly."
"It was very brave of you," Nikki told him soberly.
"Eh." C-Cat shrugged again. "I didn't mean to end up in the dumpster."
She laughed. "Thanks. For everything."
He bowed solemnly, still grinning.
Casting her gaze somewhere other than his odd expression, she said, "C-Cat isn't much of a name in the real world."
He cocked his head at her. A thin line of condensation slid off the plastic bag, crawling steadily down his cheek. "Huh?"
"Well, you're going to have to live and interact with normal people now, and I think you need a new name." Inspired by an uncharacteristic bit of pluck, she reached forward and brushed the liquid off his face. It felt wonderful to converse about something light-hearted again. And wonderful to touch his face.
"Like what?"
"Like…" Nikki studied his untamed eyes glittering in the dark, his unruly hair, and the confident way he was holding himself. "Zachary. You are a Zach if I ever saw one."
His bizarre smile grew even bigger. "I like that."
"You don't have a last name, do you?"
"No."
Nikki felt much lighter now. The weight of the world was no longer hanging on her shoulders. "You need a surname then, Zach." She enjoyed how his new name rolled off her tongue. It fit him.
"Smith?" he suggested lamely, teasing her a little.
Nikki decided she liked his teasing. "Zach…" She raked her brain. One particular surname came to mind. "Reilly. How 'bout that? Whaddaya think?"
Zach Reilly agreed enthusiastically.
"Perfect. We'll get our friends at S.H.I.E.L.D. to work it out for you. They can do stuff like that apparently."
Zach extended his arm in a gentlemanly gesture, though the twinkle in his eye was still as mischievous as ever. The bag of ice slipped down over his brow giving him a lopsided appearance.
A pang hit her as she remembered Jake escorting her to Claire's house before prom. Jake's history now, she told herself firmly. And maybe, just maybe, C- I mean Zach, could be my future.
Nikki took his arm regally. Raising her chin, she fell into carefully measured steps beside him. She knew he was headed back to the throne room.
"Jake will be there," she said.
"In cuffs. He probably knows about Allie by now."
She shuddered. "What'll he care? That toad."
Zach pursed his lips. "I believe he cared for her in his own twisted way. He just started down the wrong path and never got a hand up."
"Like we did."
"Your father and your sister will be waiting for you."
Nikki tripped. Zach pulled her against him to keep her from falling. It was the first time she'd stumbled in over a year and a half. Before he could comment on her lack of balance, she offered jokingly, "Yeah, if Thorn gave up. You should've heard him. I don't think I've ever seen Dad so ticked off."
Zach set her back on her feet, and they resumed walking. "You have a good family."
"Yes." Then she repeated more firmly, "Yes, I do."
The couple approached the domed chamber. "Take it all in stride, okay?" he said. "Your family will learn to trust you again. They love you a lot."
"Hey, Zach? Two things. First, you are going to stay with us. Mom and Dad will take you in for as long as you want. Mom is very accommodating."
Suddenly nervous, he released her arm. Squishing the mostly-melted bag of ice in the region of the sizeable goose egg on his forehead, he ran his free hand through his sodden tangles with some difficulty. "You sure? I've never had a real family," he said wistfully. "Of course, now I'm old enough to be on my own, I think."
Nikki steered the hesitant young man over toward her father. "You are going to stay with us, Zach," she declared. "I don't give a rotten jelly donut about what Thorn's plans were."
He started laughing. Not a giggle. A real, honest-to-goodness laugh. As they neared Spider-Man and Spider-Girl, who were both watching curiously, he inquired of the second thing she had mentioned, his uncanny grin never faltering.
Nikki barely managed to keep a straight face as she spoke.
"Just this: can you please stop smiling?"