Unfortunately, I didn't have access to the episode this takes place (S2 Ep. 12 "Opening Night") so pretty much all of the dialogue I had to come up with wholesale. I remember the basic plot, so it shouldn't be too far off from what happened in the show.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Terra Nullius

"This is, by far, the worst idea you've ever had," I said, crossing my arms.

"Oh, come on!" Spider-Man said from his cell, throwing out his arms. "It's going to be fine — it's not like its real or anything! Think of it like a video game!"

"Yeah, sure," I said, crossing my arms and huffing. There was something very off about being trapped in a small cell, with only white walls and a camera to keep me company. I knew I was being watched, being studied, and it made the back of my neck tingle. "This doesn't scream 'trap' at all."

"Falcon, just relax. The Vault's supposed to hold bad guys, and we aren't bad guys!" Spider-Man pointed out, as if we weren't currently being watched by three of New York's most powerful men at this very moment.

"What a refreshing insight," came the cool tone of none other than Norman Osborn over the speakers. I tried not to shiver at his voice, and succeeded only marginally. Just because Norman wasn't the Goblin didn't mean I had to like him. "I'm glad you at least decided to cooperate with us tonight, Spider-Man. And happened to convince your friend Falcon to come along, too. This will surely give us more data to work with when we start upgrading the Vault's security measures."

Right, that's what we were here for.

It was kind of a political move, I suppose, when Norman Osborn 'arrested' us and had us locked into the Vault — a high-security prison meant for super-freaks like us. Maybe it was to show how friendly we were to the police and the city, that we trusted them to contain us for a short while; or maybe it was to show how powerful Osborn was, being able to lock two of New York's heroes in the same place without a fight. It was starting to look like the last one to me.

The Vault was funded by Oscorp (no surprise there), and Norman decided to invite J. Jonah Jameson along to report it later, surely because the man was an unbiased critique and would only give a fair review of what would happen tonight. There was also Captain Stacy, someone who I liked and trusted considerably more than the other two, but I had yet to hear his voice.

"See?" Spider-Man hooked a thumb up at the ceiling. He seemed oddly relaxed despite the fact that it was Norman Osborn talking. "Totally safe. We'll be out of here in no time."

Was he really so confident? I mean, Spider-Man always kind of had a big head, but maybe he was right. It wasn't like Norman could keep us in here forever. I was about to consider it, when another voice came through the overhead speaker: "That's what you think, Spider-Man! But you're a menace! You belong in here, just like the rest of them! Good riddance, if you ask me."

We both winced at the grating noise of Jameson's voice, who sounded way happier than I had ever heard him. I threw a glare at Spider-Man, who could only cringe helplessly. He admitted, "Okay, clearly he doesn't think so, but still, we'll be fine!"

"Ha!" Jameson's voice crackled through the speakers. It made me want to rip them out of the walls. Of course they could hear everything we said. "You can try, Spider-Man, but this facility is state-of-the-art! The doors are pressure locked and we have eyes on you the whole time. There's no web-slinging your way out of this one! You'll never see the light of day ag – what, hey! Give that back!"

Jameson's voice was replaced by the much calmer, much more welcome voice of Captain Stacy. "Spider-Man, Falcon, the Vault was built for the most dangerous criminals in New York City; this includes all of the ones with unique, er, gifts, I guess you could say. Now, our good friend Norman Osborn hadn't designed one for either of you; the cells you're standing in are the basic containment for new inmates, before they're moved into a more appropriate setting. We want you to find any weaknesses the REAL inmates might try to exploit.

"Mr. Jameson and I, along with the coordinators, will keep track of your progress in the control room." Stacy continued. His voice turned serious, or more serious than it already was. "I must warn you, though, that all security measures will treat you as hostiles if and when you get out; please be careful."

There was a scratching noise as the mic was grabbed again. Jameson added, sneering, "— OR YOU CAN JUST STAY IN YOUR CELL WHERE YOU BEL –"

"Please no shouting, Jameson," Stacy interrupted. I could just hear him rolling his eyes. "You might damage the recording equipment."

"—what's THAT supposed to mean —"

"Good luck, you two," Stacy added.

"And as a reminder," came Norman's drawl one last time, the mic picking up Jameson's continued yelling in the background. "The equipment used in the Vault is very expensive. Please, try your best to NOT destroy everything you touch, as you heroes are so prone to do."

" — if you so much as show your face outside of this Vault again, Spider-Man, I will personally —"

"Mr. Jameson, I would ask that you calm yourself," Norman Osborn spoke with a voice that could freeze lava. "Before I have you removed for disrupting this exercise."

The mic cut out, just before we got to hear Jameson's response, which probably wasn't pleasant. I relaxed, instantly relieved to be rid of their voices.

To Spider-Man, I said, "Well, any ideas?"

"Uh," he tapped the thick glass that made up the small round window in his door. Between us and the doors was a metal hallway. No guards as far as I could tell, but cameras, little round domes attached to the walls and ceilings, everywhere. "Not yet. Walls seem airtight. Think you can try something?"

"They're too dense for me to move…you know. Maybe we should try looking at it from a different perspective?"

"Aw, darn," Spider-Man jumped so he was hanging upside from his fingers and toes on the ceiling, apparently taking my advice literally. "And to think we had an easy answer to all of this. Guess we'll have to MacGuyver our way out of here then."

He rubbed his chin for a second, thinking for a second. I leaned against the wall, watching Spider-Man as he extended his arm and shot web at the camera by the door, then the one behind him. "Well, these are annoying. Might as well take care of that, first."

That instantly triggered a response: there was the sound of hissing, and I watched through the windows as gas started to fill up in Spider-Man's cell. Panicked, I jumped up, pounding against the glass as the gas filled up, swallowing up the cell in a dense haze. "Spidey! What's going on? Are you okay?"

"He's triggered the basic defense mechanism in the cells," Norman's voice replied, which I did not expect or want. "Blocking any cameras instantly unleashes a knock-out gas which will incapacitate the occupant inside."

Damn. I glanced up at the ceiling, eyeing the pipes lining the ceiling. Well, guess I won't be trying that any time soon.

Now I could hear boots thundering down the halls as the Vault's guards came to check to see what was happening. They were easy to identify, in blue and black vests, armed with large, electric guns. Not the type to kill, just incapacitate. It took their leader several tries to unlock the door to Spider-Man's cell — and when it opened, the slightly yellowish gas billowed out, harmless as it dissipated in the ventilated corridor.

I pressed my hands against the glass, wanting to see inside. But there were so many guards, all piled in, that I didn't have a good view. The way they were moving, though, made it clear that something was wrong. "What is it?" one of them asked.

"I dunno," another said, and one shifted just enough for me to see inside, and spot the mound of webbing on the floor. "Maybe he cocooned or something…?"

"He's not a butterfly, you idiots," I muttered, just as one of them started prodding it with their foot.

Whoosh!

Suddenly, a pipe exploded, bursting the yellowish knock-out gas right into the guards' faces. The corridor was suddenly filled with it, and I could only see flailing, falling forms as one by one the guards went unconscious. As the gas started to filter out again, Spider-Man leapt out of his cell, sticking to the ceiling, and webbed up several more cameras.

"That was very MacGuyver-y of you," I remarked, as he dropped down and stole the key-card from one of the guards. Spider-Man looked mighty proud as he unlocked my door.

"Why, thank you," I could hear him smiling as he puffed up his chest. "I do try my best —"

"Let's just leave, all right?" I said, patting him on the shoulder, before Spider-Man could go on a tangent. "I want to make it in time to see Midtown's play."

"Wait, that's tonight?"

"Uh, yeah," I said, turning to scowl at him, and was about to add to that comment when I saw more guards appearing over his shoulder. "Look out!"

I shoved Spider-Man against the wall, throwing myself out of the way just in time to avoid several stunning bolts. Spider-Man, thankfully, reacted quickly, aiming his wrists at the incoming guards, and managing to shoot several webs over their guns, and the rest along other's faces. While the guns malfunctioned and the rest freaked out over the seemingly-permanent webbing, we turned and booked it outta there.

"There is no way we're making it to the play if this is what we're dealing with tonight!" Spider-Man managed to add, jumping between walls as we darted through tall corridors, and ended up in a different part of the building. Behind us, the doors slammed shut, big metal bars coming down and blocking the entrance to what was the Vault, and forcing us to enter what was now Ryker's prison. The fact that we were still on the island was less of a problem than the fact of who we were stuck with.

I actually felt kind of bad for missing the play, after promising Harry I'd show. The guy had been through a lot, and now I felt bad for having to disappoint him again. I should've never let Peter talk me into this.

Of course, now I had bigger problems.

One of them being that we were now in a cell block in which all of the bad guys and supervillains of Yonder Year were now being kept.

"What the hell was that?" someone shouted far down the cavernous space. Maybe Sandman?

"Hey, it's Spider-Man!"

"And look, he brought his little friend!"

"Well, I'll be!"

Beside me, Spider-Man's shoulders tensed, his humor only marred by the added seriousness of the situation. "Well, they don't look very happy to see us."

"I guess it's time, boys!"

"Time?" we glanced at each other, confused. "Time for what?"

I wasn't quite sure what I was seeing when I watched as, one by one, each cell door unlatched itself, sliding open and allowing its occupants free access. Sandman, Doctor Octopus, the Vulture, Electro, that rodeo clown whose name I couldn't remember — all of them — were just strolling out, somehow having had their abilities and gadgets weaponized, and now eyeing us like were dinner.

And they had just been set free.