AN: Here we go. Less action in this one and more character drama/necessary conversations. Hope you enjoy! If you do be sure to leave a review as always~
Small warning: No actual M-rated content, but some suggestive language ahead.
With Great Power
Uptown Nueva York, Eastern District...
"Gabriel, this is crazy."
"What's so crazy about it?" Gabe snickered, nose brushing against his girlfriend's. "Did I mention I love that pink poncho you're wearing?"
Karyn "Kasey" Charlene Nash was the most beautiful girl Gabriel had dated, and by far the best thing to ever happen to him. Short black-brown hair and bright eyes... in some ways she reminded Gabriel of Dana. In other ways, though, Kasey Nash was something else entirely. While Dana had been complacent in her and Miguel's place in their respective employments, Kasey Nash was a trueborn rebel. Hell, she was an unironic badass. She'd made him really see the world, to recognize Alchemax, Stark-Fujikawa, Synthia, and so on as the source of almost all the country's discontent. Beyond that, though, it didn't hurt that she was damn gorgeous, especially when she smiled.
"You're buttering me up, O'Hara," Kasey accused him playfully, and received only an innocent shrug in recompense from the man leaning over her. They were a bit cramped, huddled together in the privately parked maglev car. Kasey took advantage of their close quarters by touching Gabe's hair, cheeks... other places. She paused to peck the corner of his mouth.
Face flushed, Gabriel breathed out near her ear, "I repeat: what's so crazy about it?"
"Well, I mean, c'mon O'Hara. Why don't we just go to my place insteada, y'know, doin' it in the back seat of your car?"
"You c'mon, Kasey. You're the one who's always telling me to seize the moment. And this is the moment, and you're here... and I wanna seize it."
Gabriel received a light slap for his corniness before Kasey cupped his cheek with exaggerated exasperation. Her deliberations and misgivings had melted away, corny-boyfriend-talk or not. Sensing his victory, Gabriel grinned widely at her.
"Ooohhh... Okay, O'Hara. But I'm warnin' you... if somebody comes along and embarrasses me, I'll kill ya."
Unbeknownst to the couple, a shadow had passed over their window. Just then, a blade cleaved through the top of Gabriel's car, cleanly shearing off its top half. It took a half centimetre of hair off of Gabriel's head along with it. The stroke was precise, but far too close for comfort. Gabriel fell back like he'd been shot, screaming, "HEY-? WHAT THE SHOCK?!"
Standing over them was a tall, broad-faced man, carrying the culprit sword that had sliced Gabriel's car into a convertible. For lack of a better word, he looked like a stereotypical samurai, though in more casual garb and missing the signature helmet. His hair was styled in a sort of loose chonmage, scalp partially shaved but lacking the traditional knot, with a long ponytail in its place. In terms of age, Gabriel would pin him anywhere from thirty to sixty. The man's eyes were empty, soulless voids even as they narrowed at Kasey. There was nothing in those eyes that resembled free will or thought.
Swiftly, the man snatched Gabriel's stunned girlfriend out of her seat by the back of her poncho. She dangled like a caught kitten, legs bent and arms outstretched. The sheer audacity of this intruder had her floored. She managed to get out an outraged, "HEY!"
"Kasey Nash." The samurai-guy seemed to nod to himself. "You are to accompany this one immediately. Lack of resistance will directly result in lack of perforation."
"Who the shock do you think you are?!" demanded a steaming Gabriel. He vaulted over the side of the remaining half of his car, the distraction giving Kasey the chance to smoothly slip out of her poncho, now in just her matching pink tank top and blue pants. Cool under the pressure, she hit the ground and immediately started running as the man evenly addressed Gabriel.
"This one knows who the 'shock' he is. Your identity is unknown, and irrelevant. Your best interests would be served in keeping it that way." Sighing in a long-suffering way, the man expertly threw a long cord at Kasey's legs like a lasso. It automatically constricted around her ankles and caused her to trip. A solid wrench reeled her in again. "Kasey Nash... you were not listening."
An enraged Gabriel charged at the assailant who had thought it prudent to snatch up his girlfriend. He didn't know who this guy was, or why he was doing what he was doing, but frankly he didn't need to know. Swearing, Gabriel pulled out his all-purposes pocket multi-tool with all intentions of snapping the line holding Kasey in half. "Get away from her you-!" Gabe's words were cut short when the man launched a pair of projectiles at him. Shuriken. They pinned Gabriel precisely by his shoulders to the wall behind him. Though they'd mostly implanted through his shirt and jacket, Gabriel still felt twin trails of blood trickle down his skin.
"And you, young one, are not worth listening to. This one has far better things to do."
With Kasey back in tow, the strange samurai man started to walk away, leaving Gabriel behind and Kasey screaming after him. Gabriel heard her call out for him, "O'HAAARA!", but when he tried to tear away the throwing stars they only shaved into his palms. Whoever that man was, it was clear he was either enhanced, highly trained, or both, because Gabriel could barely budge from his spot. The shuriken were embedded a good inch at their apex into the wall. Desperate to reassure her, Gabriel could only call out for as long as she was in hearing range.
"Kasey! Don't worry! I'll get you out of this!"
He stopped his frantic struggles for a breather, absolutely and utterly flummoxed by the experience. It was the strangest thing that had ever happened to him in his life, or second strangest, if he didn't count the time he'd encountered a cyborg chasing a costumed lunatic. These seemed to be strange times in general, thinking back on it. He might've even found it all funny, if not for how serious it was. Kasey was gone, and deep down Gabriel knew there was nothing he could do about it.
"Ohhh... brother."
/
Babylon Towers, 0312 hours...
A nice place to live, when you're not being rousted in the middle of the night...
Composure, composure, Miguel reminded himself sternly. He couldn't act out of character, anxious, or in any way that could give him away. I don't know what he knows. This could be nothing. Keep it cool.
Taking a deep breath, Miguel signaled to Lyla to have the door open. He waited in front of it all the while, taping his foot against the floor. "Alright, Stone. What the shock do you- WHOA!"
Instead of Tyler Stone's smug mug, Miguel was greeted by the hulking form of a Public Eye officer. Without ceremony, the man two-handedly hoisted Miguel up off his feet by the front of his jacket. From behind the uniformed Public Eye Miguel spotted Tyler Stone, just now looking over his shoulder at the scene in front of him. Stone seemed to snap to attention as he saw what was happening, face becoming cross before he spoke.
"Sergeant! Being a tad overzealous, aren't we? Mike here is no threat, are you Mike?"
"Only an empty one, Tyler." Miguel lifted a fist pointedly in front of his face, eyeing the silent, hulking man that held him.
"There, you see? Put him down, Sergeant."
The officer did as he was commanded, and only then did Miguel notice that there were actually two of then accompanying Tyler. As Tyler entered the apartment, they drifted behind him like wraiths, shadowing his every move. Each was silent and straight-faced, looking like they didn't have half a brain between them. The perfect solider type, Miguel scoffed inside, scornfully. He stepped aside for them, though it pained him to do so.
Lyla took the intrusion with much more grace than he did, bless her. "Tyler Stone! You were not listed on Miguel's social calendar. Would you like some refreshment? Miguel has repeatedly stated you like to suck the blood of widows and orphans. There's none in the fridge, but perhaps some coffee...?"
Stone's right eyebrow twitched. "Charming holo you have, Mike."
"Thanks, Ty." Miguel accepted his false compliment with equal dryness. "I like her better than I like most people. Present company included, of course."
The well-dressed company head looked amused at that. He shook his head at the floor, and Miguel felt his hackles rise at his smile. For some reason, seeing Tyler in any state of "happy" towards him, no matter how innocent the reason, had him on edge, made him feel ill, like Stone's approval should be avoided at all costs. "Oh, Mike. How can you nurse a grudge?"
"I have tough nipples."
Muffling a chuckle, Stone clapped him on the shoulder, moving deeper into the apartment. Miguel watched him all the while like a hawk, a hand on his hip. In all his years of employment, this was the first time Stone had ever been in his home, and it was unsettling to see him so at ease there. Stone took note of his clean spaces, his clutter, his choices of decor, everything. There was not a single detail that wasn't fascinating to him, or that he didn't seem to find an affinity for. The entire time Miguel had this unsettling inkling that he was being analyzed.
"Sorry about Sergeant Seth here. He's on a bit of a hair-trigger, Mike. We all are," Stone began with an apology. "This "Spider-Man" fellow has us on edge, and the board felt that I shouldn't travel anywhere without bodyguards for now. They're worried Spider-Man might come after me next. In fact, that's what I'd like to talk to you about. I would've called but... well, you don't answer these days. But first, let's let bygones be bygones. Seth, shake the man's hand," ordered Stone.
"Shake his-?" Miguel felt a flare of panic. His talons were still out, and his stint as a spider-powered vagabond hadn't done anything for him in the department of learning how to properly suppress them. Even if he had the ability to retract them, he was so antsy and adrenalized at the moment that he doubted they would budge an inch. They were small, yes, and currently concealed in his curled fists, but there was no way he could get away with touching "Seth's" flesh. Thinking fast, Miguel stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned up his nose at the Sergeant's outstretched hand. "He can keep his hand. What do you want?"
An amused smirk played across Stone's face, but when he spoke he sounded serious. "Peace. Peace between us... and believe it or not, peace of mind. I envisioned you in an attempted withdrawal from the Rapture, tossing and turning in agony. The thought was so devastating to me, that I had to come over. Of course, it's apparent to me now that you appear no worse for wear, which would mean, I suspect, that you're getting Rapture through the black market. I could have you arrested, but to what end?"
From the side of his high-collared coat, Tyler pulled out a clear, svelte phial. Inside it was full of a colourless liquid, unassuming enough to be water. He held it delicately between two fingers, waving it in front of Miguel's face like a treat for a dog. Miguel eyed it warily, like it was a dancing cobra about to strike. Through its glass he met Stone's eye.
"This, Mike, is more Rapture. And we do want you back at the company, Mike, we do. I assume, if you've been watching the holos, that you've guessed that this Spider-Man running around is one of your creations, and connected to that lab explosion the independent news groups covered. Spider-Man dealt us some major damage, but as a trial, he was a major success. We need someone to spearhead the corporate raider program. Only you can do it. So let's consider this... an advance on services to be rendered?"
Fury ignited in Miguel like a flame. The audacity to present more Rapture had been the spark, and now this offer was the fuel. Along with his more human emotions, the part of him that he'd dubbed "spider-Miguel" during these past vagrant days was itching for blood, spurred on by his anger. The fire burned at his brain, and Miguel's mind began to run wild...
"You want services, Ty?" His mouth twitched, knees tensed, and hands opened. Then, he jumped the shocked Stone like a feral animal. Stone stumbled backwards, but Miguel just pinned him in place.
"GREAT! We'll start with funeral services! Yours! You're so wild about this drug?! You EAT IT!" Miguel slapped a hand over Tyler's eyes and forehead, shoving it back, opening his jaw, and shoving the phial down Stone's choking throat. When it was empty, he pulled it out and removed his hand long enough to show Stone his open mouth. He flashed his fangs in his face, fuming from the final release of his pent-up emotions: self-loathing, years of constrained, simmering hatred for Stone, all out at once.
"Look what trying to shake it did for me, Ty! FANGS! TALONS!"
Someone suddenly seized Miguel's shoulder. It was Sergeant Seth, there to defend his client. Miguel used a single hand and stroke to gut the man from pelvis, to sternum, to collarbone. The Public Eye let one some sort of ungodly scream, clutching at the organs and entrails escaping the slender slit through the gaps in his fingers. His partner was smart enough to stall in his approach after that display.
"One side, Public Eye-Sore! I want to see Ty's pasty face when I tell him-" His heart jumped gleefully at the impending announcement, "-MIGUEL O'HARA IS SPIDER-MAN! If Alchemax is worried about Spider-Man now, just wait! It's going to get worse! A lot worse! But lucky you, Ty! You won't be there to see it!" Miguel crowed at the ceiling, clutching the Rapture's empty vessel until it cracked. "You'll be enraptured! Unless, of course, I just tear your throat out with my teeth, and-!"
"Mike? You okay?"
"Hmm?"
The fantasy was over. Miguel was still staring at the same, intact flacon of Rapture. On the other side of it Stone's concerned and impatient face stared back at him. It was difficult to decide if Miguel felt more shaken at his imagination or disappointed at his reality. He ran a hand through his hair, pensive at the experience. Thank God, for inhibitions.
"Just... just letting my mind wander, Ty. It is the middle of the night, after all."
"Then we'll get out of your way and let you get some sleep. But I'd like to see you back at work in the morning," said Stone pointedly. As he walked back to the door he draped an arm around Miguel's shoulders, his guards in the lead. "And I swear, we'll play things your way. No testing on human subjects until you're ready for it. We should have listened to you, Mike. Not Aaron Delgato. He was pushing us, rushing us... and now we know it was in order to ruin our project."
This was news to Miguel. He was so intrigued, in fact, that the familiar contact with Stone didn't bother him a bit. "Wh-What do you mean?"
"Isn't it obvious, Mike? Aaron Delgato is our mysterious Spider-Man." At the door, Stone tossed him the little bottle and its wicked but unassuming contents. The door started to close, the light from the hall shrinking into a sliver across Miguel's stunned and slack-jawed face. "Here's the Rapture. Pleasant dreams."
/
Banat, Latveria...
Victor Von Doom had reclaimed his kingdom, but he was still not content. History tended to have a pattern of repeating itself. When he'd overthrown the Baron who'd killed his father as a much younger man, there had been a sort of emptiness that revenge couldn't fill, one he tried to satisfy by occasionally trying to take over the rest of the world or by besting his rival, Reed Richards. This was more of the same. The coup he'd led against Tiger Wylde had succeeded, but Doom was still incomplete. The years had not been kind to his country or the rest of the world. The heroes had all perished in his absence, and although Doom would've never anticipated it, he almost missed them. At the very least there had been less turmoil with them around. And Richards... with Richards gone, and not by his own hand as it was supposed to be, who was to be his equal? He'd inherited Tiger Wylde's feud with the American megacorporations, and Alchemax in particular, but Doom did not yet have a quarrel with them. Yes, Doom had returned, but he was like a relic of an age long past, irrelevant in this new social order.
Doom lounged back in his throne, eyeing screens through the slits in his metal mask. They played a conglomeration of captured videos from New-, or rather, Nueva York. A man in a dark, skintight suit leapt the lengths of buildings, dodged point-blank shots from a cyborg, and evaded the police force like they were children... or chickens with their heads cut off. Meditatively, Doom steepled his silver-and-steel-encased fingers together.
The costume was different, but then, so was Doom's armour, changed out of necessity and to better fit within these troubled times. So too must've Spider-Man felt the need to evolve in his expression. Or else, this was someone different under the suit. Doom took notice of the fact that this Spider-Man moved different. There was that same, lithe grace and the uncanny reflexes, but he was awkward, inexperienced. Either it was not the Spider-Man, or the original Spider-Man had simply survived without practicing his crime-fighting activities after all these years, and this was his comeback.
Regardless, it was Spider-Man. These so-called "super" people could live on in their masks and names alone, so long as there was someone crazy enough to take them on. It'd happened before. Whoever this person was, he was a genuine reversion of the past, Doom's past, a past crowded with colourful costumes and century-defining clashes.
"This... this is a bit of timing that cannot be overlooked," he rumbled quietly to himself. Doom often talked to himself. It was better than being alone with his thoughts. Perhaps he would request a holo agent to record these ruminations, maybe create one himself. "I return, and he returns. I never believed in coincidence. The twists and turns of personal destiny, yes... But coincidence is a crutch for those who cannot walk the paths of faith unaided. The advent of Spider-Man will bear further exploration... as soon as I have the opportunity and resources. After all, I encountered him early in his first career, and Doctor Doom has always had great respect for tradition..."
/
Nueva York...
The next morning...
"This is a deviation in standard clothing habits for you, Miguel. Generally you do not wear undergarments of any kind."
Lyla, whom was facing the window, threw her head over her shoulder to look at Miguel. It was almost time to go to Alchemax, and Miguel was in the middle of getting ready. He'd had his breakfast, showered, and shaved. Now all he needed was his coffee and to finish changing clothes. Currently he was in his Spider-Man costume, carefully tucking it and adjusting it around the waist of his pants.
"Why don't you broadcast that a little louder, Lyla?"
The sarcasm was lost on the LYrate Lifeform Approximation. She started to shriek, "I DO NOT HAVE BROADCAST FACILITIES, MIGUEL, BUT I CAN INCREASE VOLUME TO-!"
"Forget it." After Lyla snapped her mouth shut, Miguel continued to speak, "The fact is, I still don't trust Stone. He might have the apartment searched. The last thing I need is that he finds the costume here. But he's too cagey to body-search me. Wouldn't want to tip his hand if the stuff about Aaron was a bluff. And if he does try to search me..." Miguel lifted his hand to scrutinize it, "Well, if push comes to shove... I can really shove back now."
Miguel gritted his teeth for a half-second before forcing his face into a neutral expression. This would require calmness, concentration. He regarded his fingertips coolly, and ever-so-slowly they started to "shrink". In reality they were just moving backwards, providing the illusion of sinking back into his skin. A noise of exertion escaped through his teeth, but otherwise Miguel couldn't be more delighted at his eventual success.
Half to himself and half to Lyla, he exclaimed, "Did it! I flattened the talons!"
Lyla did a little golf clap of congratulations, which Miguel deliberately ignored. He grabbed the UMF around his hands and started to tug it free. Last night, with the help of some of his tools, he'd managed to modify the costume to not just have a separate mask, but separate sleeves as well. He stuffed the gloves inside his pants, out of sight, then began to button up a gray dress shirt over the torso portion of the suit. Finally, he completed the functionary look with a tie.
"The neural responses to make my powers function are already in place. It's just a matter of developing them."
In her usual carefree manner, Lyla lifted her palms and shoulders in a shrug. Something had just struck her, which she expressed soon afterwards. "If you are concerned the costume will be discovered, why not simply destroy it?"
"First off, destroying clothes made from Unstable Molecules isn't that easy. That's the whole point of them. Second, you saw how jumpy ol' Ty was about Spider-Man. For once - for once - Ty and Alchemax are running scared. The S-Man is the one responsible for yanking the chain, and I'm not ready to put an end to that. Feels good, damn good, and more than that, as long as they're looking over their shoulders they'll be distracted from what I'm up to."
"Up to?" prompted Lyla as Miguel strode into the kitchen to retrieve his freshly-topped, steaming coffee mug. Only when he'd swallowed a few scalding sips did he answer her.
"Ty wants me back on the corporate raider program. Fine. Even though the lab was blown up, they still have plenty of great research facilities; the best, in fact; facilities I can use to try and find a cure for my..." Having set down his coffee, Miguel flicked out a single, index talon. He cast an uncomfortable glance back at the expectant AI. "...Situation. I can also research what other biological surprises my change might have in store, so I can anticipate them. Like, how knowing the spinnerets were coming in would have helped."
Under Lyla's watchful gaze, Miguel jerked his wrist away from his body, took aim, and loosed a webline. It was a disorganized jumble of tangled strands, not at all like an orb-weaver's more artistic, meticulously-constructed fibres, but his aim was true. The silk-globule had gone in a perfect arch to hit one of his spinning chairs a few metres away. Spiders expertly spun their silk through some sort of barely understood, instinctual system that was present from hatching, but Miguel was still getting the hang of it. He didn't exactly have to learn from scratch, and he was catching on quick, but at this point it was more of a hindrance than anything useful.
"At least they stopped itching," Miguel muttered. "I should be grateful. If I were duplicating a spider one-hundred-percent, I'd be eating flies and shooting webbing out my buttocks. The day I destroy the costume is the day I've managed to rid myself of Spider-Man for good."
He headed for the door, shutting down the lights and auxiliary power as he went. Just as he was about to go out, Lyla called after him in parting, "Have a nice day at the office, dear!" Miguel automatically gave her an odd look at the domestic line, and all he got in return was that same innocent, beaming countenance that she always expressed. He could never accuse her main programmer of not giving her enough quirks, that was for sure.
/
Outside the building, Miguel was greeted by his brother Gabriel's voice. He would know it anywhere. It came as a bit of a surprise to Miguel, but not a totally unpleasant one. Yes, he resented the moral seminars that Gabriel was oh-so-fond of dishing out these days, but they were still siblings. Miguel would hate to have them split further apart simply because of this Spider-Man nonsense. Gabriel was certainly a more patient person than Miguel was to put up with all the missed calls, attitude, and more recently, unexplained absences.
"Miguel! Over here!" Gabriel hollered again, raising a hand. It was his customary call. At one point, Gabriel used to drive Miguel to work every other day, just so they could chat. Miguel usually used the transit system, or called in an Alchemax driver if he was feeling particularly lazy that day. Unsurprisingly, he always preferred his younger brother to an Alchemax employee who drove only to dock Miguel's bimonthly paycheque.
Hiding in the shade of the entrance-overhang, Miguel made sure to put on his sunglasses first before going to Gabriel. Nowadays the sunglasses were almost a must. It was a nightmare tolerating excess light, not to mention Miguel was becoming aware that his irises were becoming more and more crimson by the day. Nothing too noticeable, they could still pass for a ruddy brown, but Miguel had deemed it best not to take any chances.
"Gabriel... Nice to see my brother is still talking to-" Miguel blinked as he moved over. "-Me?"
Gabriel sat in the front seat of his red car, except there was really only half a car there. The top part of the cabin was completely gone, sheared off in a straight, slanting line. It was an odd look, with the side windows only coming up to Gabriel's shoulders. Small shards and fine dustings of glass covered the leather seats. Miguel was gobsmacked.
"Uh... Gabe...? Wouldn't it have been easier to buy a convertible?"
"Just get in the car, will ya, Mig?"
"No lectures?"
"None, I swear."
Without a word, Miguel got into the passenger seat. He was intrigued and worried by Gabriel's serious mood, the state of the car, and a few other red flags. Not only that, but he'd made an effort to pick up Miguel like old times in spite of their previous drama. Something was up; Gabri wanted something. If it was in Miguel's power, he would grant it, if only to help mend the rift that was gradually growing bigger between them as the years went by. As soon as he was buckled, Gabriel took off. It wasn't until they were on the expressway that the younger brother broke the tension, a breath escaping him.
"Look, there's a problem with Kasey. That's how my car got "redecorated"."
Kasey. Gabri's girlfriend. Miguel had heard enough about her to know her type, but they'd never actually met face-to-face. Neither one of them really had the interest, despite sharing Gabriel in their lives. And anyway, Kasey apparently frequented the downtown areas of the old New York, and that didn't exactly lend itself to confidence in her character. She was a rabble-rouser, and it always escaped Miguel as to how someone like her and Gabriel had gotten together. He didn't want to judge, though, not prematurely, anyway. Gabriel had a small, yellow hologram-snapshot of a woman in his car that Miguel only now noticed for the first time. It must've been recent. If it was Kasey, she wasn't a half-bad catch in terms of looks.
"Is this holo on the dashboard her?"
"Yeah."
"So that's the charmer you keep going on about. The one who "raised your consciousness"."
"Stop sounding so smug, Mig. She opened my eyes about what's going on in this country, that's all. The same way my "lectures" were trying to open yours."
A sign announcing an "auto control zone" and instructing drivers to "retract tires" passed by overhead. They were alone on the maglev roads, which Miguel and Gabriel both appreciated. The lower level traffic routes were a lot more private and free than even the sky traffic, which often got so crowded that the auto-enforced speed limits tended to dip drastically during rush hours.
"Yeah, right. And before Kasey it was Leilani, and you became a physical fitness nut. You bought a home gym set that took up your entire apartment. Do you see why I'm a bit dubious here?"
"Okay, but..."
"Before that there was Michelle, and you were telling me that society's sole hope was to ditch technology, worship trees, and eat only oatmeal. Then there was Stacy the nudist, and I had to pull some strings to get you off the hook with the authorities after you marched with-"
"For crying out loud, I was a kid then!" An indignant, or perhaps delusional Gabriel chose that moment to interject, but his brother wasn't about to let him off the hook that easily.
"This all happened last year, Gabe," Miguel reminded him.
"Mig, everything that Kasey made me realize is true! And she's important to me! And she's important to someone else, too, because some nut with a shocking sword kidnapped her!"
Miguel did a double take and adjusted his glasses, wondering if he'd heard right. "Come again?"
"Kasey and I were making out in an alleyway, and this... this Samurai guy comes out of nowhere, whacks the top off my mag car, and takes off with her. You gotta help me, Mig," ranted Gabriel in distress. Throughout the whole, summarized story Miguel just stared at him, hardly able to believe his ears. His best guess? Some downtown maniac out for revenge, or hired by someone for the same purpose. Possibly a power scuffle. Either way, it wasn't his problem.
"Me? Why?!"
Gabriel groaned and hit his head against the car's controls, as if having to ask for his help pained him. They passed a few city workers that were erasing some graffiti. Vandalism continued to be rampant in the city, even with the harsher punishments that Alchemax had administered and now enforced for it. Anti-corporate slogans were particularly popular. One such sign advertising the military Corps had an "E" added to the end of it, forming the poignant "CORPSE".
"'Cause you're tied in with Alchemax, so make it work positively for once. I reported the kidnapping to the Public Eye, but nothing's gonna happen, 'cause I don't rate. But you... you're hot stuff. Have them look into it, assign a detective, something," demanded Gabriel, his tone of voice escalating in desperation with each word.
For a moment Miguel imagined that he was in Gabe's position, that it was Dana that had been taken away from him, right out from under his nose. How hard would it have been to watch, and be helpless to stop it? Not only that, but what would it be like to know that there was nothing that could be done to find her, unless your prick older brother stuck his neck out for you? Empathy filled Miguel; not much, but enough. It was difficult to dismiss him, now.
"I'll do what I can, Gabe. No promises, but from things you've told me in the past, about the kinds of nuts Kasey runs around with... Well, this might be some intragroup squabble. It might be none of your business. It's sure none of mine."
"I love her, Mig! Maybe that doesn't mean anything to you, but it does to me!"
"You really sound like you mean it this time, Gabri," replied Miguel thoughtfully, chewing over his words.
"I do. And besides, it is your business. You've got power, Miguel. And Kasey told me that 'with great power must come great responsibility'."
Miguel resolutely surveyed the road ahead of them, his unimpressed eyes hidden behind vacant lenses. A new sign and arrow on their particular roadway announced the upcoming, indoor parking for the "ALCHEMAX: BIONEERING DIVISION. SUBLEVEL A.". They were nearly there. The building soared into the sky ahead of them like some sort of manmade Mt. Everest, the sunlight glinting off its windows. Miguel squinted at it, silent. It was almost beautiful. Almost.
"...Kasey reads too many fortune cookies."
End of Chapter. Next: The Specialist
Remember to review hoho, and Happy almost-Halloween!