Chapter Five: Villains, Training, and Little Black Suits
"Madison, I'm . . . I'm Spiderman."
She stared at him in shock. Suddenly a huge grin broke out over her face. "Get out!" she exclaimed, standing up to circle him, staring at him intently. "Are you serious?" She stood back, a contemplative look on her face. "But you can't be Spiderman," she said, a light trace of sarcasm in her voice.
He crossed his arms. "And why not?"
"Well," she paused. "You're too nerdy to be Spiderman."
He gritted his teeth. "Thanks, Madison."
She grinned at him perkily. "Welcome."
Suddenly she was right in front of him, poking and prodding like a scientist on a new favorite test subject. She checked his pupils, poked at his muscles, and even kicked his knee to "test his reflexes." Lifting his wrists, she suddenly noticed the odd, lumpy look they had, due to the spinnerets contained under the skin. After staring at them for a moment, she slowly lifted her own wrists to compare.
They were exactly alike.
Madison took a step back, her eyes wary.
"Why are you telling me this?" She asked slowly, her eyes wide with an emotion that Peter couldn't place. Was it fear? Apprehension?
No, he decided finally, it was hope. A wild, desperate hope, the final hope of rescue for a drowning child.
"Why are you telling me this?" She insisted when he didn't answer, not even daring to believe that her secret dream had somehow come true.
He smiled at her, still silently wondering what would come of this strange turn of events.
"Because now, it seems, you've become just like me, Madison Avenue."
xxxxx
The florescent lights in the lab flickered on as a small, nervous man in a white lab coat scurried around the tiled floors on silent feet, fervently wishing he was anywhere but there. He was acutely aware of the shadows in the part of the lab that the lights did not reach, of the man that waited there.
"Is it ready?" The voice rolled out of the shadows.
"Ummm, well, sir, you see, the thing is . . . " the little man flustered.
"Is it ready yet?" The voice repeated, a note of dangerous agitation showing through.
"Ummm, well, what I'm trying to say is . . . " he gulped. There was no getting out of it now. "Yes."
"Excellent," the voice purred. "Show it to me."
Trembling, the little man reached into his lab coat and pulled out a vial of greenish fluid. When he turned it in the light, it became purple, then crimson. Exposing it fully to the light, it slowly became the deepest black.
"Perfect. Get it ready," the voice ordered.
"But sir . . . "
"Now."
The little man's ferret-like eyes darted around the room, and his tongue flicked out as he nervously licked his lips. Pulling out a long, slender syringe from some unknown recess in his oversized lab coat, he gently tipped the contents of the vial into the waiting syringe. Swirling it around, he watched as the formula finally settle back to a sickly, opaque green.
"I-I-It's r-r-ready . . . " he trembled.
"Good," the figure stepped out of the shadows, one sleeve rolled up to reveal one slim, white forearm. Holding the syringe up to the light, the shivering scientist gently tapped it and squirted out some of the precious fluid to test for air pockets.
Finally pronouncing the liquid suitable, the man took a deep breath and took hold of the deceptively thin wrist. Aiming the needle precisely, he slowly injected the swirling, murky fluid into the vein of the shadowy man's arm.
The scream that pierced the night as the formula took hold caused the cowardly man to flee, running through the darkness of the lab and out into the street.
He only made it a few steps before a hand clenched around the back of his neck and darkness closed in.
xxxxx
"Climb up the wall."Madison stared at him with disbelieving eyes. "You've got to be kidding me."
"No, I'm serious, just try it."
"Remember what happened last time I got close to a wall, Superhero?"
Peter rolled his eyes. They were standing in a deserted alleyway at the edge of the city. Madison, though she was enthusiastic enough, was finding it hard to adjust. He understood.
"Just try it."
Sighing, Madison placed both her hands on the wall, and then pulled them back again. Nothing. She tried jumping, but her hands smacked against the brick and bounced right back off. Glaring, she turned to him.
"Concentrate."
Clenching her teeth to bite back an angry retort, Madison closed her eyes and took a deep breath, mentally willing this to work. Ever so slowly, she raised her left hand and placed her fingertips against the wall. Fingers shaking, her right followed. Deep breath. Concentrate. Left... right... left, right, leftrightleftrightleftright . . . .
Peter stood and watched Madison make her way up the wall, his heart somewhat lightened by her success. She moved with incredible ease, her odd, elongated body structure perfect for moving quickly and quietly. In a matter or moments she reached the top and pulled herself over the ledge. Smiling, Peter followed.
Madison smiled as she spun on the rooftop and stretched her arms to the sky. She had always hated the monotony of this world . . . hated it! It had smothered her since she was little- the same routine day in and day out, being nothing but another face in a sea of endless faces. Being just an average girl, living just an average life. That thought had killed her inside, but now . . . but now, inexplicably, her dream had come true. She had somehow escaped from that prison of near-nonexistence to be fully and totally alive. To be different. To be special. Of course she knew there would be risks- there always were. But for Madison, it was worth it.
Oh God it was worth it.
Turning, she suddenly noticed that Peter was standing right beside her. "Amazing, isn't it?" he asked softly.
He was amazed to see that her eyes were shining with something that looked suspiciously like unshed tears. "It's everything I've ever hoped for," she whispered.
"It's hard, you know," he said. "Being different. Being this way. Sooner or later you're going to have to make sacrifices."
"I know," she acknowledged, but deep down he wondered whether she really did.
xxxxx
Peter had insisted on a costume for Madison as soon as possible. He didn't want to risk trying to teach her web-slinging in broad daylight or with regular day-clothes on. Unfortunately, Madison seemed to have her own ideas on what her costume should entail, and therefore, in typical Madison fashion, wasn't being to corporative.
"Sucks, sucks, sucks, really really sucks, you don't actually expect me to wear that, do you? Sucks, sucks, no, no, no and . . . no."
Peter sighed in frustration as Madison tossed down the last of his costume ideas, her eyes watching the brightly colored sketched scatter across the floor with a disdainful expression.
"Well," he said, trying to stay calm as he slid a pencil from behind his ear and laid it on a fresh piece of paper. "Why don't you tell me what you do want."
"Are you sure you want to hear all of this?"
Right then, all Peter wanted to do was smack that irritating trademark smirk right off of her face. "I'm listening."
Madison took a deep breath and smiled. Peter blanched as she began to rant.
"Nothing stupid, nothing lame, nothing bright, nothing colorful, nothing tacky, nothing slutty, nothing revealing, something black, must have some sort of pockets, must have boots, NO SPIDER LOGOS, nothing silly, nothing cartoonish, nothing 80's, easy to move in, nothing stuffy, nothing bulky, nothing . . . "
"Ok, ok, I get it," Peter crossed out his latest sketch on the paper and stared at her. "Perhaps you have an idea of what you want it to look like."
Madison smirked and dug into her pockets, quickly producing a crumpled piece of paper. "There ya go, Chief."
Raising his eyebrows, Peter gingerly took the paper from her outstretched hand and unfolded it, staring at the drawing inside.
It was simple, black, and very, very Madison. The whole thing was a black bodysuit with a whitish spider web design arching outward from her chest to cover the rest of her body, including her black mask with its diamond shaped, upward sweeping silver eyeholes. Slim, knee high boots with no heel that fitted over the bodysuit were an unusual touch, and a silver, chunky belt hung from one hip and drooped slightly downward over the other. Peter glanced upward, amused.
"It's very . . . black," he commented.
"Exactly."
"What's the purpose of the belt?" he asked, pointing.
"Oh, that," Madison looked extremely pleased with herself. "Well, I wanted pockets, but then I realized that the idea of pockets in spandex was a little illogical. So I designed a belt, made up of little metal containers linked together . . . to hold stuff."
"You've really thought this through, haven't you?"
Madison beamed.
He sighed. "It's kind of plain, but," he paused at the hopeful look on her face. "Fine. I'll get the materials tonight."
Madison squealed and gave him an excited hug. Grinning at her giddiness, Peter was surprised to say that maybe she was the right choice for the job. He didn't really hate her anymore, and there might even be a way that they might someday be, well, friends. It was possible, wasn't it?
Peter stared as she danced around the room, then shook his head.
'Nah.'
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