I am so sorry that this is so very late, but it is the third to last chapter, and I have already started the next one. As I'm sure you've all noticed, I like to have a little action in every chapter. This chapter has a lot. Also, here you will find a lot of answers to previous mysteries. Enjoy!

Betrayal

Crawling stealthily around the side of an office building, a lone figure crouched even lower against the concrete. She shivered slightly as her thinly covered figure brushed the cold surface.

She braced herself…then sprang forward. Her fingertips connected with the next wall and clung tight. The tiniest tinge of relief brushed her face like a gentle breeze.

For several minutes, she waited, soundless and still, barely daring to breathe. She was listening. No sound reached her sensitive ears. She became a little more brave, a hair cockier.

Her muscles stretched taut, her body pulled itself forward less carefully. She kept her eyes to the sky above her, now certain that she had finally lost him.

A small patch of loose stone in the middle of the wall took her by surprise. Her fingers faltered and she leaned upward against gravity to compensate for the loss of balance. The scrape and crunch of the gravel made her cringe. It seemed ear piercing after such painstaking silence.

Hanging sideways on the wall, she peered over her arm to watch the tiny pebbles fall. Then she looked up.

"Boo."

She jumped at least a foot off the wall.

Before she could fall very far, a strong hand clamped onto her arm and hauled her back up. "You okay?"

Reddening brightly underneath her mask, she mumbled an inaudible answer. The adrenaline was still pounding through her veins.

"What?" he asked. She could hear his smile beneath the mask.

"I'm fine, Dad."

"Whoa, that's not my name out here, remember?"

"Yes, Spider-Man."

He laughed. "That's it, May."

"Hey!" she cried as he bounded up the side of the building. She leapt after him. "What happened to Spider-Girl?"

By the time she reached the top, he was just vanishing over the edge of the far side.

Spider-Girl was already weary from their earlier game of hide-and-seek, but she gritted her teeth, biting back the half dozen complaints that her body was yelling at her.

Her feet pushed off the roof and she was in the air.

She fell into a dive toward the street. With two well-placed hands, she caught a light post, curving her back into a C as she flipped around it back into the air.

Spreading her body flat in a near-miss of another building, Spider-Girl shot a webline and was jerked sharply to the right. She caught sight of her quarry again and pursued him with even more energy as Spider-Man led her through a brutally fast-paced chase across the city.

She lost him again in between some buildings. Making a split second decision, she swung to the left, the way she thought she had seen him go.

Neither of the them was too concerned about losing each other. The general rule was that if they got separated for too long, they would meet on the Empire State Building; it was a perfect landmark, impossible to miss.

Several minutes passed without Spider-Girl seeing her father. She was about to grudgingly give up and head to the ESB when Spider-Man shot out directly across her path.

"Whoa!" She shot a webline out of reflex that jerked her around, just missing him. She landed on the side of an office building. "Watch it!" she cried, breathless from the close call.

Spider-Man had stopped too and was looking at her from across the street. Oddly, he didn't say anything.

Spider-Girl cocked her head at him. Was the game over?

All of a sudden, he spun a webline and jumped. She swung automatically after him.

They struck up their madcap game of tag again, faster and even more rapidly than before. Spider-Man whipped around corners, ducked under skyways, and cruised the city skyline with her in his wake. Spider-Girl was laughing with the sheer joy of it.

Today was a day she would never forget.

Spider-Man perched atop the Empire State Building, his eyes anxiously sweeping the street below. Where was she?

He kept going over the past events in his mind. Surely she couldn't have gotten lost. He bit his lip and started crawling back and forth nervously.

"Maybe it just took her a while to turn around," he said aloud. "That'd be like May, she doesn't quit easily." This reassured his parental mind considerably.

Spidey stopped pacing and sat up. He pulled a little gray box out of the pouch at his ankle.

It was a trick, bringing anything along in his costume, but he had discovered a few creative ways of going about it during his years of being a superhero. Most of them involved a fancy bicycle pack and some Velcro.

Spider-Man didn't open the box; he knew what was in it. It was a pair of rather pricey earrings. He and Mary Jane had spent hours at the mall picking them out.

It wasn't May's birthday or a belated holiday present. Today marked the day that May Parker would begin her official campaign as a full-fledged superhero.

Spider-Man had been waiting for this day for a long time. There was so much to show her, so much to do. There were dozens of allies to meet: the Avengers, Daredevil, the Fantastic Four. And he knew the X-Men had a whole new crew of young mutants. He was already anticipating the friends she would make among her fellow teenager up-and-comings.

There were also a multitude of enemies to encounter. Spider-Man wasn't too excited about them, but he pushed them from his mind. With the good came the bad, he reasoned.

More minutes passed and she didn't show up. Spidey was beginning to wonder whether this whole thing had been a bad idea. Maybe he should've taken his wife's advice and just given the present to May at home. Mary Jane hadn't been too enthusiastic about him taking the expensive earrings to the top of the Empire State Building.

He started pacing again. After another quarter of an hour had passed, his fears got the better of him. He replaced the gray box at his ankle, shot a webline, and jumped.

"Claire?" Nikki whispered into her cell phone. She looked around furtively.

"Wha- Nikki, is that you?" asked a sleep-infused voice. "Why on earth are you calling at one in the morning? Where are you?"

Uh, on the street a few blocks away from Veron Odrade's Fresh Food Mart, hoping that no one will notice I'm gone? Nikki thought. She shook her head at how pathetic this was. "It's a really long story."

"Oh yeah?" She could hear Claire rustling around into a more comfortable position. "Please tell. I've been waiting for you to call since the accident. It's been weeks."

"I had a hard time getting away."

"Okay…from what?"

Nikki wondered how to just launch into her tale. "My…home." Somehow, the basement of Odrade's Fresh Food Mart didn't seem like a home. "How's Luke doing?"

There was a slight pause. Nikki supposed that Claire could tell she was trying to change the subject. "Well," said Claire. "To be honest, he's not doing that well. He's – he's really sick and his family has never been able to afford treatment."

"Oh, Claire, I'm so sorry." Nikki suddenly felt sick to her stomach at the thought of all the money she was stealing, maybe even money that should have been used to help kids like Luke.

"Yeah, it's okay," Claire said quickly. This was the most depressed Nikki had ever heard her sound. "They've had an anonymous donor for about three years, but a few months ago, the donor stopped sending anything. Luke was getting better, I think, but after the trauma of the accident and the lack of treatments, he's gotten sicker."

Nikki swallowed hard. "Is he still in the hospital?"

"Yeah."

The shame of what Nikki had become seemed to descend on her in a nauseating, clammy, gray cloud. How could she possibly tell Claire? Bowing her head in disgrace, she leaned against the store front.

It was at least a minute before she realized that she could no longer hear Claire's breathing in the other end of her phone, and, looking around, that the world really was gray.

"C-Cat?" she whispered in alarm, pocketing the dead cell phone. She didn't know why she needed to whisper, but the stillness around her was so dense that she felt nearly suffocated.

"Yes, Nikki?"

She bit her lip. The creepy little boy was standing beside her, clutching her arm and not smiling. She stared into his eyes. They seemed abnormally large when not crinkled up into a grin. Shaking herself out of her trance, Nikki asked, "What is it?"

"You shouldn't be out here."

"Why?" She felt suddenly cold and afraid. "Did somebody notice that I'm gone?"

He nodded solemnly.

Nikki was about to swear violently when she noticed that C-Cat was watching her anxiously. It was the most emotion she'd ever seen him show. She clamped her mouth shut with an audible snap.

"I am afraid for you," he said simply.

She shook her head distractedly and glanced about, as if expecting Odrade to walk out of the shadows at any moment. "Don't be."

"Where is your family?" His huge round eyes watched hers intently.

"They're…they're safe." Nikki couldn't believe how concerned he was. Why had this highly unusual kid shown so much trust in her? A fleeting maternal instinct burgeoned in her chest for C-Cat. She risked a question. "Where's yours?" she asked gently.

A flash of fire crossed his eyes. His lips screwed up into a snarl.

"What did I say?" she cried, alarmed.

This boy was no longer small and weak; he seemed feral. And, she noticed, he was nearly as tall as her.

Warning bells erupted in her head. Nikki sprang into a back flip, breaking away from him.

Her surroundings swirled about her in a dizzying pattern of color and sound, and she found herself in normal time again. C-Cat was nowhere to be seen. She thought this was even more frightening.

She spun around, eyes darting this way and that. "Alright Cat, come out, come out wherever you are!"

The night was quiet. A car passed, rustling some nearby trash. As the wind settled, everything became still again.

Nikki shivered. She wished she could at least see him. There was nothing more terrifying than an invisible enemy. Taking a step backwards, she nearly tripped on the broken up sidewalk.

Maybe he was gone…

CRASH!

She jumped instinctively as a dry piece of concrete exploded into powder by her feet. "What the - ?"

C-Cat was standing in front of her with his head thrown back, laughing insanely, a second piece of rock in his hand. He stopped laughing abruptly and lowered his eyes to meet hers. Then he spoke.

C-Cat had never said a word when not in his own dimension. Now she knew why. His voice was the most bone-chilling thing Nikki had ever heard.

It cut through the night air like an icy blade, thrown directly at her heart. From the throat of a boy with no more than fourteen years came the harsh cackle of an eighty-year-old man. "I am here, Nikki," he rasped at her. "You told me to come out, and here I am."

He threw open his arms. "What do you think, little girl?" Here his voice cracked upwards briefly into the range of a young child. "Still want to be my mother?"

Nikki screamed.

C-Cat hurled the other piece of concrete at her. She remained static, concentrating on ghosting through it.

Instead, she cried out as the sharp rock caught her square in the chest, just below her neck. This one was bigger; the sharp points bit into her skin and clawed at her collarbone. Something snapped.

One hand clutching near her throat, Nikki stared at him. "My – my powers," she said hoarsely.

He only grinned. Picking up another chunk of rock, he bounced it in his hand once before preparing to throw.

"Stop!" she shrieked at him and lunged. Nikki hit the sidewalk in a cloud of dust. C-Cat had vanished.

Spitting grit from her mouth and wondering if her collarbone was broken, she struggled back to her feet. There was a catcall from behind her.

Nikki whirled around furiously but wasn't stupid enough to jump again. Fists clenched and panting, she made a nasty sight. Her face was a mess of blood and gravel. An ugly blue and purple lump was quickly swelling over the spot where she had taken the hit from the concrete.

C-Cat wasn't even breathing hard. He cocked his head and flashed her a toothy smile. In his low, grating voice he said, "Catch me," and was gone.

She looked around quickly, backing up against the wall behind her. She was not going to be caught off-guard.

A jeering whistle trilled above her. Looking up, she saw C-Cat sitting casually in an open window, one leg bent at an angle to prop up his arm, the other hanging out the window and swinging. He waved.

In some dark recess of her mind, Nikki wondered if he knew about her spider powers. He couldn't – or at least he shouldn't… Maybe he wanted her to use them. Why?

She was wearing her costume beneath her clothes. She always wore it when she snuck out at night. Now, still staring up at him, Nikki yanked off her outerwear, hopping on one foot slightly as she changed out of tennis shoes into her thinner costume slippers.

Before her mask was completely over her head, Nikki was already halfway up the wall. She hadn't done any climbing in a while. At first, she was a bit stiff and out of practice. But her muscles quickly remembered themselves, and soon Fantasma was moving fluidly.

As she reached the window, C-Cat disappeared again. Fantasma had been expecting this. She craned her neck up, straining her eyes in the dark trying to find him.

C-Cat whistled at her rudely from the top of the roof. He had his costume on too.

Fantasma smiled grimly. "It's time to turn this thing around. If it's a chase this kitty wants, the mouse is ready."

She threw herself into the air, landing with a thud atop the roof. C-Cat backed away to the edge. She stalked forward until he vanished and reappeared on the other side of the street.

Fantasma once again climbed after him. Her wild and hopeless chase went on for several more minutes before it occurred to her that he seemed to be leading her somewhere.

Suspicious, she stopped on the side of a skyscraper and scanned her surroundings. She was moving across the city in a fairly direct path. Fantasma frowned. Her ghosting powers still had not returned. She'd never lost them for this long before and was getting nervous.

C-Cat's annoying whistle pestered at her from below. She climbed down, but this time, she pursued him less recklessly. Her reason for following slowly changed from revenge to curiosity. Where were they going?

About forty minutes later, near the outskirts of the city, Fantasma landed at the bottom of a great wall that she judged to be approximately forty feet wide and over two stories high. There were no windows.

She assumed it was some sort of complex, maybe an obscure prison. But she couldn't see any buildings peering over the top. Was there anything inside?

The boy appeared, sitting nonchalantly on the wall. With all the moving around between time, Fantasma wondered how many hours and hours this chase was really taking him.

She had little time to wonder. He wanted her to climb up. She did.

Despite the fact that she was nearing exhaustion (without any web-swinging abilities, she had to do a lot more work to get around), Fantasma still crawled at a fast pace. But her arms and legs felt like lead. She hadn't had done anything this taxing in a long time.

The wall seemed to stretch up and up above her. And C-Cat was always there, grinning. As usual, when she reached the top, he had already gone. The high wall she was balancing easily on was over two feet thick and ran in a square.

Looking down, Fantasma saw nothing. No buildings, no people, just a deep earthy pit. Even the moonlight seemed hesitant to seep into it, so that there were mostly shadows and very little light.

A tremor rattled her spine. It looked just like the sort of place where someone might keep a dangerous monster. Fantasma started to back away.

An odd feeling coursed through her body like a jolt of electricity. Too late, she recognized the sensation.

Nothing warned her of the hands that appeared behind her out of nowhere. Nothing warned her of the hard shove. And nothing stopped her from tumbling forward, screaming and flailing.

Her powers had failed her utterly. They did not return as she made painful contact with the ground. With her last flicker of sight, she saw a group of shadows descend upon her.

When Fantasma came to, she was lying on her back in the bleak shadow of a stone wall. There was hard, packed earth under her hands. It took her a minute to remember what had happened.

She stared up. The darkened sky was her roof. So she was still inside the walled square, but someone must have moved her, otherwise she would still be lying on her face.

Fantasma tried to slowly sit up. It took a great deal out of her. The first thing she felt was a horrible pounding throb around her collarbone. She could barely move her head without her body protesting wildly.

Somehow, she managed to turn so that she was leaning her back against the wall. She shivered a little from cold; she felt feverish and thirsty. There were more injuries to be accounted for: a few nasty scrapes, and possibly several fractures.

Scanning the darkened area, she spotted a group of huddled figures directly across from her.

One of them must have seen her get up and came scurrying across the open courtyard. There was a kind of openness about the whole cell that made one feel as though there was a target on one's back. It was nerve-wracking.

Fantasma recognized the figure as Jake. He was wearing his dark green Mimic costume and loaded up with guns, ammunition, and other weapons she had never known the use for.

Crouching down beside her in the safety of the shadow of the wall, Mimic pressed one hand to her forehead. "You okay?" he whispered. "We saw you fall in."

She coughed hoarsely. Her throat ached for lack of water. But she croaked, "Yeah."

His face was unreadable beneath the mask. "Krystelle's not doin' so hot either. The rest of us are here."

"C-Cat?" she cried, struggling to get to her feet.

He pushed her back down gently. "No," he said, his voice very cold. "I wouldn't expect he'd hang around after what he did to us."

Fantasma closed her eyes. She wanted water, but most of all, she wanted to get C-Cat. "He betrayed us."

"I know," said Mimic. "But to whom?" He pondered this for a while. Fantasma said nothing. Her broken collarbone was aching almost beyond what was bearable now.

"Jake?"

"Yeah?" He didn't correct her for not using his nickname. Fantasma thought this was a bad sign.

"Are your powers gone too?"

Mimic suddenly looked worried. "You – you don't have yours anymore either?" She shook her head painfully. "This is not good. We were kind of hoping…never mind, but everybody else has lost theirs too."

Fantasma felt even more ill than before. So somebody was controlling their powers. How? Why? For the first time, she noticed a lonely little figure huddling by itself in one of the dark corners. "Who's that?"

Mimic turned and looked. "We're not sure exactly. I mean, we don't know her real name. She's very determined not to say. But she goes by Spider-Girl."

Fantasma choked and fell into a loud coughing fit. She couldn't believe it! It had to be May, who else would go by a name with such obvious affiliation with Spider-Man? What was her sister doing here?

The noise echoed around the courtyard. Mimic quickly tried to calm her down. She wasn't sure if it was because he was concerned about her or that the noise frightened him. It was so lonesome here.

Soon after she had settled down, the ground below her began to shake. There was a hollow scraping sound all around them. Fantasma heard Krystelle screech from the other side of the courtyard.

She wrapped her arms around Mimic unconsciously. "What's happening?" she shouted over the clamor.

He didn't answer, or if he did, she wouldn't have heard him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her sister moving away from the wall and wobbling uncertainly on the shuddering ground.

It took her a while to realize what was going on. A large slab of the floor had dropped below the ground and was sliding back. The sound and rumbling were coming from stone grinding against stone.

She hugged Mimic tighter in fear. He was hugging her back, but neither of them noticed. Their eyes were glued to that gaping mouth opening up before them.

There was something bad about that hole, something evil. Her dry throat constricted, and she became short of breath. A tinge of almost madness overtook her, an animal instinct telling her to get away. Whatever happened, she knew that she did not want to go in there.

"Please no," she whispered.

The stone finally stopped its interminable motion with a final booming thud. The sound echoed once and all was still.

Fantasma remembered to breathe again. Self-conscious (or perhaps just Krystelle-conscious), she pulled away from Mimic and stared at the Hole.

For what seemed like forever, nothing happened. Then there were footsteps; loud, marching feet, footsteps of those that had nothing to fear.

A uniformed man stepped smartly out of the Hole. Another followed him. Before long, there was a small army of men standing there, all armed to the teeth with sophisticated weaponry.

Fantasma knew better than to guess that they belonged to any legal organization.

She and Mimic sat against the wall, quite still, willing themselves to be invisible. Fantasma was trying without success to use her powers. Several men looked at her as they exited the Hole.

The first man, he appeared to be the leader, gave a few terse orders, and the men split off into three groups. As she had feared, one of the groups was coming for her and Mimic.

"Get up," a man barked. He motioned with his gun. Five more men stood behind him.

Fantasma stared at him defiantly. "No."

Something about his uniform was bugging her. It looked familiar. A memory at the back of her mind was struggling to come to the surface.

"Come on, Nik, they have guns," Mimic breathed in her ear as he got to his feet. "You have guns too," she said. He just shook his head and took her hands, pulling her up

Fantasma cried out as the pain in her collarbone doubled. Tears rushed to her eyes. She nearly sat back down, and probably would have, if one of the soldiers hadn't grabbed her good shoulder and steadied her.

"Let's go," said the leader, and they were led back toward that hideous Hole. Mimic was taken first, after handing over his arsenal, and she followed the two men who took him. The staircase was narrow, so they had to go single file.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Thorn and Krystelle and Spider-Girl being led also. It occurred to her that Spider-Girl must have lost her powers too if she was letting them take her so easily.

Down, down, down they went until Fantasma felt that they must have been descending into the very bowels of the Earth. At last, they hit level ground.

Through blurry eyes, she noted that the ground had leveled out, and that they had hit a dimly lit corridor. It was wide enough for two to walk abreast. By this time, Fantasma was not doing well at all. She felt nauseous and faint. She staggered badly.

A guard, the same one who had grabbed her shoulder, quickly stepped in and took her good arm. Leaning heavily on him, fading in and out of fevered sleep, Fantasma walked. And walked, and walked.

She was mostly unaware when they reached a large chamber. All Fantasma wanted was a long drink and sleep. She could have cared less about the decrepit old man in the throne at the far end of the room.

"Bring them to me," croaked the ancient voice of the man on the throne.

Fantasma felt her feet slide across the smooth marble as the guard practically carried her forward. She let her head hang down. She didn't care about what happened to her anymore. The pain in her collarbone had become so powerful that it had passed beyond what her nerves could handle. She barely felt it now.

"What do we have here?" rasped the old man. Despite his scratchy voice, Fantasma could hear distinct disdain. "A woman and four children? And one of them about ready to collapse?"

Fantasma felt herself beginning to lapse into that sweet relief that is unconsciousness. The voice started to fade.

"This is a shame. I expected more of you, Anderby."

Jake's last name is Anderby…Why is he talking to Jake?

"I have offered you my own son, Sir," said a sniveling voice to her right.

Her head snapped up. She knew that voice!

"You're crazy!" shouted Mimic in horror. "What do you think you're doing? Let me go!"

A scuffle broke out between him and the guards out of her line of sight. Fantasma craned her neck around the guard holding her – a very painful motion – and gawked stupidly at Veron Odrade.

He was on one knee, head bowed before the feeble old man. He didn't look at any of them.

His son…Anderby…Jacob Anderby… Her quick brain was making connections. Odrade was Jake's dad!

The old man spoke, ignoring the wrestling match going on before him. "Gerald Anderby, you promised me great profit from your endeavor. But instead, you have sent me little of your earnings, keeping most of it for your own personal gain!"

Odrade whimpered fearfully. Fantasma didn't feel the slightest pity for him. This was the one whose pockets they had been lining – this ancient man with more wealth and willing slaves than he knew what to do with? Her stomach twisted with disgust.

"I am sorry, great Groak."

"You should be," mumbled Groak wearily. This short scene seemed to have exhausted him. "I know that it has been two years since we last talked face-to-face…that is a long time to not be in contact…I suppose I must give you the benefit of the doubt. You were only training these mutants to get them ready for me."

Odrade nodded his head fervently. "Yes, sir! Yes, sir! That's exactly what it was."

Fantasma thought it was the most pathetic sight she had ever seen. She tried to see Mimic; he was on the other side of her, further down the line, but there were too many guards in the way.

A sharp crack few seconds later and the subdued silence told her that he had been knocked out. Her stomach turned.

For the first time, Groak seemed to fully notice them. He sat up a little straighter. "Have you killed him?" he asked sharply.

Fantasma's heart jumped to her throat. She was able to get a glimpse of Mimic's limp form lying on the ground at the feet of four soldiers. One of them gave him a dull kick. Cowards, she thought, viciously.

"No, milord, still alive."

"Good," rasped Groak, sliding back onto his stone throne once again, "because the next person who harms one of these mutants will meet the same fate as our dearly-departed friend Johansson."

Fantasma wasn't sure whether to feel protected or terribly scared. She could sense the tangible shudder that rippled down all the backs of the guards. No one spoke.

"Take them to the holding cells," ordered Groak jadedly.

Her guard started to turn around, dragging her a little less gracefully than before. He was apparently tired of holding her up.

"And take this useless lump, Gerald Anderby, too."

"What?" cried Odrade, dropping all pretense and scrambling to his feet. "Why?" He looked wildly about in fright as a group of shadowy guards converged on him. "But I did everything you said!" he said, his voice rising in pitch.

He even had the nerve to look in the direction of his once faithful followers. "I even gave you my son! No!" For the soldiers had grabbed his arms and were pinning them behind his back.

Fantasma, certain that all was lost and that she wouldn't be able to stand the constant stabbing pain in her shoulder much longer, let herself be carried away without a struggle.

In the background, she could hear Spider-Girl and Thorn trying to fight. Krystelle appeared to have gone limp with despair. She was being led, a numb, disbelieving look in her eyes. All seemed to be lost.

The guard carrying Mimic led the line back into the hallway. Suddenly he cursed and dropped the costumed teenager. He clutched his nose, howling in pain as blood leaked between his fingers.

Mimic sprang to his feet. Yanking the guard's gun from its holster, he began firing haphazardly into the air and yelling incoherently, creating absolute chaos.