Chapter Twelve

Whatever it was, it was a person, I thought. In the back of my mind, there was a nagging, pleading twinge of hope. A spider-person. Someone like me.

Over the city, I swung over the brownstone that I recognized as Harry's new house. No lights shone from any of the windows. The spider-person paused on the roof momentarily, then continued on its jolting ride through Manhattan.

I followed it through the canyon-like skyscrapers, my mind in turmoil. Spider-people. Like Dad, like me. More of them? But how could that be? How many genetically altered biting spiders were running around in this city?

The creature swung up against a curved wall and shot straight up, its arms and legs blurring. I crouched against the wall below, just in time to see it silhouetted agains the brightly lit name that ran in glowing block letters across the tower.

QUEST AEROSPACE, INC.

The spider-person climbed up and vaulted over the roof, and I crept after it. The roof was flat and rough, carpeted in asphalt pebbles. I peered over the edge of the roof, watching. The creature grasped the edge of one of the air-conditioning vents and wrench it off, shoving the six- foot vent out of its way. Then it froze.

I ducked back down, holding my breath as I clung to the wall. Had it seen me? What would it do if it had?

A tiny noise made me look over again. The creature was gone. Only the twisted metal of the vent gave any indication that something was out of the ordinary. Instead, a square hole sat in the middle of the roof. A metallic clattering echoed from the darkness.

I vaulted over the edge of the roof and walked silently towards the opening of the vent. The hole yawned menacingly in the moonlit roof, black against the freezing shades of gray.

My spider-sense was changing from a tingle to a persistant buzz. There was danger down there, in that blackness, whether from the creature or another I couldn't tell. But I couldn't walk away now, leaving all of these questions unanswered.

I took a step forward and dropped, whipping out my arms to stop my fall. I flipped over and began crawling downwards. I could hear nothing but the soft clanging of the metal and the rasping of my breath behind the mask.

Quest Aerospace. One of corporate giants of America. The company that used to own Harry's inheritance. It was some kind of technology-based company. What was this creature doing here?

Down and down I climbed, in a descent that seemed hours long. A fan whooshed to my left. I could hear air rushing through ventilation ducts branching off on either side. The thing could have gone anywhere in this building, I realized. But I kept going straight, keeping to the central duct. I had to catch up with it. I had to know what was happening.

My right hand connected with another wall of thin metal. I felt blindly. The air duct couldn't simply end there. I slid forward against the surface. The duct bent horizontally, leading parallel to the ground. I released my grip and landed, crouched, in a tunnel large enough for me to stand in.

A slitted square of light reflected onto the 'ceiling' from a grill in the middle of the floor. I crept over and blinked rapidly in the light. It was dim, almost like the glow of a desk lamp.

Hmmm. It looked like a cross between an office and a storage room. A white metal desk in the corner of the room was piled high with folders, charts, and printed sheets. A desk lamp was perched precariously on top of a stack of papers. There were no windows, only cold, featureless walls.

My eyes traveled across the room, over the tiled floor and wide shelves, packed with containers and petri dishes marked 'biohazard' and 'danger, handle with care'. The light from the lamp seemed to ooze across the room like liquid, barely illuminating the desk.

Crash!

I sucked in my breath with a hiss. My spider-sense suddenly exploded to life, screaming like a siren inside my head. Standing in the corner of the room, half-shadowed, was a person. On the floor in front of it was a sealed graduated cylinder, now shattered into glittering shards on the floor. A clear liquid trickled through the grooves in the tile.

It was Hobgoblin.

As I watched, eyes wide, breath held, he turned around to face the cabinet on the wall behind him. The doors, painted with a huge biohazard symbol were wrenched open, and I could make out two racks of cylinders inside. The tubes hanging in the upper row were filled with a viscous, dark green liquid, and the lower tubes were filled with the clear substance that was dripping from the shattered cylinder on the floor.

Hobgoblin reached forward and removed one of the lower containers, raising it up before the slanted yellow eyes of his mask. Then, he turned again towards my hiding place, lowered the tube, and snapped his fist shut with a crash. The tube exploded in his grip and the liquid dripped through his gloved fingers onto the floor. Contemptuously, he opened his hand and dropped the shards.

I watched with bated breath as he repeated the process again and again. What was in those cylinders? Why was he destroying them?

I could kick this grating out and web him up where he stood. I could...no, wait! My being too quick to act was what allowed him to get away in the first place! I had to be more careful if I was going to catch him.

But then I belatedly realized something else. Where had the spider- creature gone?

"I thought I might find you here."

Hobgoblin froze, his hand reaching for the last container of the clear liquid. He slowly turned, lowering his hand. The snarling mask was partially shadowed, dark hollows in its eyes and mouth giving it a skeletal appearance.

"Who's there?"

A slithering, scuttling rasp came from the opposite, pitch-dark corner of the room. A woman's voice, clipped, clear, and utterly cold spoke again. "Are those something that you don't want to be found?"

I could hear the irregular rasp of Hobgoblin's breathing inside his mask. "Who are you?"

"An enterprising person in need of someone with your particular talents."

Hobgoblin laughed, a harsh, racking sound. "You're wasting your time here."

"I don't think I am," said the voice from the darkness. "You have something I want, and I have something you need."

Hobgoblin snorted. "Something I need?"

"Indeed. The one piece of information that you need to achieve what you desire above all else. Your revenge."

I tightened my grip on the edges of the grating.

"Revenge?" Hobgoblin made a sound of disgust. "Do you believe that someone could actually have harmed me?"

"Not you," the voice took on a suave, persuasive undertone. "You want revenge for another. Someone dear to you, who died at the hands of the one you hate above all others."

Hobgoblin took a step backwards as the voice continued. "You see, Hobgoblin, I know many things. I know all about you, who you really are, and why you want those chemicals destroyed. I know that the man called Spider-Man robbed you of the only close family you had. I know your weaknesses, and your fears. I know that in your rage you lash out at the only person you can."

The voice lowered to a whisper. "What's more, I know the identity of Spider-Girl."

I bit my lip so hard I drew blood. It was impossible! Completely impossible! She had to be lying, telling stories in some scheme to gain Hobgoblin's alliance. There was no way that she could have found out who I was...was there?

I could practically see the gleam of Hobgoblin's eyes behind his mask. "Who?" he hissed. "Who is she? Tell me!"

I reached for the grating. I had to stop this now!

"And why should I do that?"

I paused. Hobgoblin's voice shifted into an animal snarl. I saw his right hand disappear behind his back.

"Tell me now. I'm giving you one more opportunity. Tell me what I want to know, and you leave alive."

The voice burst into a gale of high-pitched laughter. "You would never use that grenade you're holding behind your back, Hobgoblin. If I die, I take my information with me. You wouldn't risk losing that."

Hobgoblin paused. The silence stretched on

"You mentioned a trade. Some sort of proposition."

"I did. Finally, we come to the point." In the darkness, one shadow detached itself and stepped forward. "I said that I needed a person with your abilities. Cunning. Ruthlessness. Intelligence."

"Flattery will accomplish you nothing."

"Very well." I sensed a hint of irritation from the voice. "There's a little job for which I require assistance. The details will be explained later. However, I will hold up my end of the bargain. In return for your cooperation, I will give you the information you want. Along with any assistance you may require to kill Spider-Girl."

"Assistance? Do you think I need assistance to destroy her?" Hobgoblin sneered maliciously.

"You certainly needed it this afternoon," the voice snapped. "Without my intervention you would be in prison or dead. As strong as you are, you are new to this business. If you help me, I'll help you."

Hobgoblin fell silent. I watched, tense, breathless. I could practically see the gears in his head turning. There was no movement from the shadows.

"Come out where I can see you."

The shadow in the corner hesitated, then stepped forwards into the pool of light. I clamped my jaws shut to strangle the gasp that nearly erupted from me. The creature standing there was the thing that I had followed across Manhattan, but in the spotlight its features were thrown into hideous relief.

It was huge, and thin, wearing a jet-black garment with a strange red marking on its chest. Its limbs were long, many jointed, and spindly. The hands attached to each of its six arms were elongated and hooked with wicked, fishhook claws. Its entire body was covered in an armored, scaled exoskeleton. But it was the creature's face that made my stomach lurch. From the top of its head streamed long, black hair, and the face was covered with the tiny black keratin plates. But its eyes were huge, perfectly round, totally black and glittering wetly. The eyes were expressionless and cold. Arachnid eyes.

Below the eyes was a lipless, horizontal slit. As the creature open its mouth to speak, I caught a glimpse of two massive hollow fangs unfolding from its mouth.

"I...see," Hobgoblin said. "Might there be a more personal reason for your interest in defeating Spider-Girl?"

"Not one that concerns you." The woman's voice issued from that fanged mouth. "So...do we have a deal?"

Hobgoblin hesitated again, then gave a short, quick nod. "Done."

The spider-creature took a step backwards, apparently satisfied. "Good. I will find you later to explain the details of the arrangement. As for my end of the bargain, I can assure you that what will happen to Spider- Girl will be the same thing that happened to her father."

I nearly fell out of the duct.

"Spider-Man, eh? You killed him?"

"I didn't say that," the creature said smoothly. "As I said, I will contact you later." She stepped backwards into the shadows, just as I drew back my fist to smash the ceiling open. I would grab that creature, tackle her, pound the information out of her.

What had she done with my father?

There was a clank, and the creature vanished from view. The wailing of my spider-sense diminished, still persistant, but not as severe. She was gone.

I had to go after her! I had to find her! She knew something about Dad!

Below, Hobgoblin stared penetratingly into the darkness, then seemed to shrug. He turned and walked away, vanishing back behind the maze of shelves, leaving the cabinet with its single remaining tube of the clear liquid hanging open.

From far away, I heard a distant humming that faded into the whirring of the fans. I was alone. I had been too slow. They were both gone.

I turned and slowly made my way out of the duct.