XVI. Rehabilitation
Tony Stark was a busy man, but this was a unique situation. In this one instance, he decided that it was worth his while to make a little time. He made one quick stopover at SHIELD Headquarters to collect some necessary technology, and then he flew straight over to the Baxter. Much to Peter Parker's delight, his mode of transportation was nothing less than the latest, greatest iteration of his Iron Tech armor: the Mark VII Iron Man suit. He came gliding in through the penthouse's open window, guiding himself to an easy stop with his repulsor-based flight-stabilizers, and landed on the floor with a metallic clank. Servos whirred as Iron Man's faceplate retracted, revealing the famous face of the one, the only, Mr. Tony Stark.
"I hear somebody ordered a neural deprogramming," said Stark. "Or maybe it was a pizza with everything? Pretty sure it was a deprogramming, though. Either way, it's still here in thirty minutes or less."
"Thanks for coming, Tony," said Johnny.
"That's Mr. Stark to you, kid," he said quickly. Before Johnny could even open his mouth to reply, Stark was already following that up with, "Just kidding. If you're a fellow super-hero, you get to call me Tony. And from the looks of things, that's pretty much everybody in the room—whoa. You're really him, aren't you?"
Peter looked to his left and to his right before he realized that Mr. Stark, or maybe he could call him Tony, was talking to him. He pointed at himself and asked, "I'm… me?"
"I sure hope so," said Stark. "Otherwise, things are going to get very confusing. Spider-Man, isn't it? Thor and Cap are big fans."
"…They are?!"
"Well… they've heard of you, anyway. Same thing. Where's the patient?"
Peter managed to overcome his star-struck stupor just long enough to direct Tony over to the couch, where Mary Jane was now resting more or less peacefully. "Right here," he said.
"For this to work, I'm gonna have to ask you take off her mask," said Tony. "That's not gonna be a problem, is it?"
"If that's the way it has to be…" said Peter. He was willing to do pretty much anything to cure MJ, and under the circumstances, trusting Tony Stark was better than any alternative he could come up with. So he removed MJ's mask.
"Hey, she's cute," said Tony with mild surprise.
"She's sixteen," deadpanned Peter.
"Moving on," said Tony, clearing his throat. "Can you wake her up, please?" He knelt down next to the couch and said, "Wake up, kid," while Peter gently shook MJ until she was roused.
MJ groaned and slowly came to. "Peter…" she said groggily. "Wha… where am I?" Then she sat up and took note of both her surroundings and her clothes. "Johnny? What the… oh my God." She looked down at her red-gloved hands and then back up at Tony Stark. "It's true then. I'm the Scarlet Spider! …and, holy crap, you're Iron Man."
Tony smiled gently. "Nice to meet you. Now hold still while I run a quick scan. Eyes open, face me; Jarvis, neuro-scan, theta frequency." Iron Man's faceplate snapped back into place, and sweeping beams emanated from the glowing bluish-white eye-slits. Once that was done, the faceplate retracted again, and Tony said, "Can you tell me your name, sweetheart?"
MJ looked up at Peter. Peter shrugged. "Up to you. At this point, we either trust him or we don't."
"Mary Jane," she said.
"Mary Jane. That's pretty. Well, Mary Jane, you've been programmed with a little bit of hack-work hypo-therapy, which might sound kind of terrible, but actually it's pretty good news. If you'd really been brainwashed, with the kinds of long-term mental conditioning techniques they use on spies, the only cure would be reverse conditioning, which would probably mean a couple of very unpleasant weeks in a SHIELD deprogramming facility. That would not be fun." Tony paused for just a moment to let that sink in. "As it stands, the cure is much easier. Watch the birdie." Here, Tony held up one iron-gauntleted hand and let the repulsor-emitter flash brightly, right in Mary Jane's eyes.
MJ shrieked in surprise and rubbed her eyes. "Yah! What was that?!"
"Integrated version of the SHIELD-issue neural neutralizer," said Tony. "You're not completely out of the woods yet, but the effects of the hypnosis should start to diminish pretty rapidly. You'll be your old self again by this time next week."
"Heh-heh," chuckled Ben Grimm, "not bad, Tin Can."
"Well if you want to say 'thank you,' you can do two things for me," said Tony. "First, get me a cognac on the rocks; preferably not orange rocks—"
"Very funny," muttered Ben, making no move to fulfill Tony's request.
"—And second, tell Mr. Absent-Minded Professor the next time you see him," here Tony was referring to Reed Richards, "that he has to get back to me with his thoughts on those upgrade schematics I sent him. He's not allowed to let it slip his mind this time."
"I'm sure I'll remember to let him know," said Ben. "Whether he remembers after I tell him is another story."
Tony turned to face Johnny and the spider-duo. He clapped his hands together with a clank and said, "Well, kid's it's been fun, but—" Here, he paused and snapped his fingers (which was quite the impressive feat in Iron Tech armor). "—Oh. Right. Almost forgot: ulterior motive. Spider-Man, have you ever met Colonel Nick Fury?"
"Uh… no."
"Well, he hasn't met you either, but he wants to fix that. Even asked me to pass the message along in person. You have an open invitation to swing by SHIELD Headquarters sometime and meet the big guy in charge—by which I do not mean the Hulk." Tony shrugged his shoulders (again, given his armor, kind of impressive). "My first guess was, he wanted to offer you a spot on the Avengers, but now that I meet you, I'm thinking Fury plans to start a little-league. Anyway, if you don't find him, he'll find you. Jarvis, what time is it? Damn; gotta fly." And with those words, he did—literally, out the window, at nearly 200 miles an hour.
Peter watched after him, still more than a little awestruck. "Wow. We just met Tony Stark."
"Oh God," said MJ, letting her face fall into her hands. "I think I'm going to be sick."
"Whoa, not here!" said Ben, holding up his hands. "If you need the bathroom, it's over there!"
"You don't get it," said MJ, looking up at everybody, tears forming in her eyes again. "The things that Jackal and Goblin made me do… I broke Electro out of prison! I robbed banks, beat people up… Peter, I've killed people!"
"That wasn't you!" said Peter, kneeling down in front of MJ and tearing off his mask. (At this point, he really didn't care at all if the Thing saw his face.) "Mind-control doesn't count. It's a… an on-the-job hazard for super-hero types, so it doesn't count. Right, Johnny?"
"Yeah, totally," said Johnny. "Doctor Doom pulls that kind of crap all the time. Anything you did while you were hypnotized was absolutely not your fault."
"Matchstick's got it right for once," agreed Ben. "You can't blame yourself, kiddo. 'Specially if there was nothing you could do to stop any of it."
"Ugh… can we talk about this later?" MJ stood up and started pacing around the room. "Right now, I just want to find the two bastards that did this to me and bonk their heads together!"
Peter shot MJ a worried look, but he didn't say anything.
"What is it?" she asked.
"MJ… the Goblin and the Jackal know who you really are."
MJ's face fell. "Aw, crap." Then her eyes went wide. "My mom and dad! Peter, we have to get home! If the bad guys find out that I've been deprogrammed—" She ran for the window and extended an arm to shoot a web, but Peter grabbed her by the shoulders to stop her.
"Wait!" he said. "Let's just think about this for a second! Listen: they won't know you've been cured until they try to trigger you again, so let's use that."
"What do you mean?"
"I'll explain on the way home," said Peter. "I've got a plan." Turning to Johnny, he said, "Thanks a million, buddy. We owe you big for this."
Johnny answered with a cheeky grin. "You owe me precisely one cute blonde's phone number. Gwen, I believe her name was?"
"Oh… yeah, uh, maybe some other time," said Peter. "She's going through some personal stuff right now that I really don't have time to explain… but I can tell you that she likes you."
"I guess I'll have to take that in the meantime," said Johnny. "And, as always, if you want my help with the bad guys, you know where to find me."
"Thanks," said MJ, "but you're not the one who's just been mind-raped. I don't know if I want to be a super-hero yet… but I do know that I need to finish this for myself." She crawled up onto the window-sill, put out her arm… and pulled it back again. "Uh, Peter? How do these web-thingies work again?"
• • •
In spite of herself, MJ really was enjoying her first lesson in web-slinging. Sailing through the air, swinging from building to building, was nothing short of amazing. She could stick to walls now. She was almost as fast as Peter, and she was even stronger than he was. It was still painful to think of all the terrible things that she'd been compelled to do—the crimes she'd been made to commit—the lives she'd taken—and all of that was to say nothing of the fact that her loved ones were now in grave danger without even knowing it. But despite everything, in a sick and twisted kind of way, the Jackal and the Green Goblin had given her a gift—a mighty gift that she could now turn right back upon them. She had great power now… and she fully intended to use that power to crack a few deserving skulls.
More than anything, MJ really wanted a chance to just sit down and talk to Peter about what she should do next, long-term. Should she join him as a super-hero? Become his partner? Right now, that was an appealing, if scary, thought. Then again, a large part of her wanted to take the Scarlet Spider costume and throw it away, or burn it, so that she would never have to see it again. She didn't necessarily have to do what Peter did. He was wracked with guilt over the death of Uncle Ben. At the moment, MJ felt no small measure of guilt herself, over the things she'd been made to do as Scarlet Spider; but, at least intellectually, she was aware that none of it had really been her fault. She wasn't responsible. If she ever finally came to terms with that, would she still be able to carry on the crusade with the same unending fervor—one might even say 'obsession'—as Peter?
She didn't really know the answer. It was a question that would have to wait until after this business with her two vile tormentors could finally be put to rest.
Speak of the devil, thought MJ when her cell phone rang. They were already back in Queens, more than half-way home, but this might be it. So she shouted for Peter and alighted on a rooftop. He quickly followed suit.
"The caller ID says it's my mom," said MJ.
"Give it here," said Peter, answering the phone. He didn't say anything; he just listened.
"Miss Watson?"
"I'm sorry," said Peter. "Miss Watson is currently unavailable. This is the Jackal, I presume?"
The voice on the other line betrayed a note of surprise. "Who is this?"
"Why, your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, of course. We really should get together and discuss our mutual friend, Scarlet Spider. If you ever want to see her again—alive— meet me… at Drago's Bar, in Hell's Kitchen, midnight tonight." Then he hung up the phone. "That should keep them wondering," he said to MJ.
For MJ's part, she just stared blankly at Peter. "That was your plan? Make them think I'm your hostage?"
"It's a good plan!" said Peter defensively. "This way, they still think you're brainwashed. They have no reason to go after your family, at least not yet. It buys us some time to figure out our next move."
"Which is what?"
"Well, first thing's first. We have to head home and cook up a fresh batch of web-fluid. Mine's way better than yours, but I doubt that my spare cartridges will fit your shooters."
"Gotcha. Then what?"
"Then… we figure out what we're going to tell Aunt May about the kitchen; and Gwen about all of this."
"Jeez, I forgot all about Gwen!" said MJ. "She knows… pretty much everything now, doesn't she?"
"Pretty much," said Peter. "At least, about the whole secret identity thing. I just hope she doesn't freak out when we try to explain everything else… I mean, you've got to admit, this has gotten pretty weird and out-of-hand, even by Spidey standards."
• • •
"Norman, we have a problem."
The Green Goblin was presently in flight, his glider speeding toward a high-rise office-building in the heart of downtown Manhattan. He was communicating with the Jackal via the headset built into his mask. "Explain yourself, Miles."
"Our asset has been compromised. Somehow, Spider-Man got to the Watson girl."
"Well, take care of it!" said Gobby. "I'm busy." He flew up to the very top floor of the building and rapped on the window. Inside was the office of L. Thompson Lincoln, once a respected citizen and influential businessman; now little more than a recluse and a disgrace, at least in the eyes of the public. His connections to organized crime had been exposed to the world some time ago. Now he would never again regain his former stature amongst New York's high society.
Tombstone opened the window. "What do you want, Goblin?"
"It's time for us to make our move against Fisk. And you're just the granite headstone we need to mark his early grave."
"What?! You know I don't get my own hands dirty—"
Gobby imitated the voice of a little girl falling from a great height. "Oh, no! Daddy, daddy, heeellllpppp… SPLAT! Do I make myself clear?"
Tombstone squared his jaw and glowered at the Goblin. "What's the plan?"
"In a perfect world, we'd simply do to Fisk what I'm doing to you right now—attack the heart. But, unfortunately, his darling wife Vanessa and beloved son Richard are hiding somewhere in Europe, inaccessible to us at the moment. So we must attack the fat man directly. The last time we met, you alluded to your relative invulnerability. I hope for your sake, Tombstone, that wasn't just bravado."
"You can't be serious."
"Oh, yes I can!" laughed the Goblin. "I just choose not to be! Life is a barrel of fun when you're as untouchable as me!" Cackling madly, he flew away from the building backwards on his glider. Then he turned and rocketed off at top speed.
• • •
It was late evening when Peter and MJ finally got home. Mary Jane crawled in through her bedroom window in order to put some normal clothes on (but she kept her costume on under them); then she followed Peter over to his house, and they entered through the basement. Once Peter was likewise appropriately attired, they rehearsed their story, took deep breaths, and went upstairs into the kitchen to face the music.
Imagine their surprise upon seeing the back door fixed and a new kitchen table in place. With the tablecloth put back, you couldn't even tell that it'd been replaced. Sitting at the table, grinning ear-to-ear, was Gwen Stacy. "Hey guys," she said, leaning back in her chair. "Like what I've done with the place?"
Peter's jaw dropped. "Gwen? How did you… it's only been a couple of hours!"
"Well, long story short, Aunt May called pretty much right after you left; said she'd be out late having drinks with some friends—"
"Wow, Aunt May has a better social life than we do," commented MJ.
"—So I figured that I had some time," continued Gwen. "Then I remembered, oh, yeah, we've got a rich friend who could fix all this in, like, two minutes if I asked."
Peter said, "You asked Harry? Please tell me you didn't tell him—"
"That you're a super-hero? Hell, no! But I did give him the same excuse you told me to give Aunt May. He thinks that you and MJ really got into it; so you're gonna have to play along with that. I guess I figured it'd just be easier having Osborn worry about it than Aunt May."
"You thought right," said Peter. "Thanks, Gwen. This was pretty cool of you."
"Um, even if it did involve lying to our friend…" said MJ uncomfortably.
"Yeah, well, it didn't come free," Gwen said. "Now I have to sit down with Harry and talk about my feelings sometime." She visibly shuddered at the thought. "But, hey, look at you guys! My little super-hero siblings! You gotta tell me everything now!"
"Well, I guess we've got some free time," said MJ.
"All right. Come down to my lab," said Peter. "I have to make some web-fluid anyway; you can give me a hand."
"You make your own webs?" asked Gwen. "Like, with chemicals and stuff?" When Peter nodded, Gwen said, "You have to show me the formulas you use! I would love to mess around with something cool like that—" Gwen paused here and turned to MJ. "Hey, you're not gonna flip out and go all 'terminator' on us again, are you?"
"No, I'm all better now," said MJ. "Mostly. But if you call me 'Mary Jane Watson-Parker' again, don't forget that I have super-strength now."
"What did she call you?!" interjected Peter.
The trio went down into the basement and spent the rest of the evening chatting about spidery heroics and the ins and outs of Peter Parker's double life.