6 . Cat got your tongue?
It was already night when you woke up. You didn't have to lose time putting on your uniform; like some sort of parasite, your white, red and black suit grew on you when it was time to go out. It was another part of your curse (blessing?) that, in the beginning, did freak you out, however the practicality of such a power made it so you came to enjoy it.
The night was your playground, the shadows your hometurf. You leaped from darkness to darkness as if teleporting, glimpses of your form being seen as silhouettes against the moon's light. You felt even better than how you did before the incident, as if the night pulsated around you to compensate for your lack of life on the inside.
Tonight is not a very special night. The cold, winter streets of New York were mostly empty, "the calm before the storm" that was the period right before the holiday season. You hang on the edge of a roof, taking a breather, while you connect with the darkness. You can't help but overlook a gigantic outdoor advertisement for America's new "official Superhero team", the Squadron Supreme of America. Two years prior, after Cap's death, Stark had been elected as president, promising to bring "real" security not only to America, but to the entire world. Well, that he did. Kind of.
In those two years, President Anthony Stark not only managed to end every war America was involved in, but every conflict on Earth. With his army of robots fabricated in the likeness of his Iron Man suit and repping the good old red, white and blue, the USA managed to strong-arm every dispute into an abrupt end. Not that there wasn't any opposition, but Starks Industry technology was just too great for any rebellion. Sentinels, as they were called, rapidly became a normal aspect of almost all police forces in the world, not only patrolling looking for criminals, but hunting any vigilante and mutant they could find. The Superhero Act had become global, and with it, the death of the superhero figure. The streets were safer than ever, yes. The newspapers told the population so. But you, Sam, knew the truth. There wasn't anywhere near enough Sentinels to police everything, and without superheroes, crime had only gone up.
Cracks had started showing, not even the state controlled media being able to suppress how bad things had become. This is where Stark's Squadron Supreme entered the scene. Now, America - nay, the world - had Superheroes back, real empathetic faces instead of those lifeless machines. And the best of all? They answered only to justice. President's Stark justice, that is. The team was formed of unknown but surprisingly powerful superheroes, and you couldn't help but wonder if they were manufactured by the government somehow.
The bright lights of the advertisement shine upon you. You see a blonde, buff guy, wearing a red and golden spandex suit and a golden cape, flying right above the American flag that sways on a virtual wind. His name was clear for everyone to read: Hyperion. You were his enemy, you thought. How couldn't you be? He was the hero, you were one of his villains. Nothing but a vigilante. You scoff.
You can't help but think about how you almost fell for Stark's trap two years ago. Isla was right, as always. Squadron Supreme, Avengers, whoever it be, without their principles and independency, they were nothing but puppets of whoever is in command. Your independence, independence of thought and of action, were the pillars of what Spider-Man meant. You did it for the people, not for anybody else. Were throwing away everything you stood up for, back then, a fair trade for a more stable living? You wonder if maybe this Hyperion guy had the same struggle you had, once upon a time. Not like it matters anymore, anyways. You don't have people to care for, nor do you have a choice but to fight crime. You sigh.
"You can come out of hiding, I know you are there." you say, seemingly to nobody. It is very subtle, but mechanical steps approach you from behind, settling right beside you.
"I knew you would be here." said the armor-clad woman. You turn to look at her, following her roboticized voice. "Wonderful night, isn't it?"
The woman wore a very advanced technological suit that resembled one of Stark's creations a lot. Black and white, details in a purplish-pink color adorned both her cat-like ears and the cat symbol engraved in her chest. She grips two long energy whips with her also purple clawed hands. You knew her, of course.
"I've seen better, seen worse." you shake your head.
"Appreciating the new eye-sore there, Spidey? Hmm… He is kind of cute." she stops to ponder, tilting her head. "Eh, I don't know. Don't you think all the gold makes him look kind of fat?"
"Enough games, Iron Cat. What the hell do you want with me?"
"Ouch, you hurt me, Spidey!" she grips at her chest with one hand, fake fainting with the other, letting one of her whips fall to the ground in the process. What an actress, you think. "Can't a girl catch up with an old pal once in a while?"
"You are not one for 'catch ups', Cat." you say, bending down to grab the fallen whip. You shove it against her metallic chest, which makes her look down. "And last I checked, we weren't exactly what I would call 'pals'."
"Why are you so rough with me all the time, Spider-Boy?" she wiggles her hip, mischievously and grabs her whip back, maybe lingering her hand on yours for a second longer than needed. "I thought we were a little bit more than friends after our last… escapade, wouldn't you say?"
You blush and look away. Last time you two came across each other, it wasn't under the best of circumstances. One of Mysterio's goons had armed a trap against you, confusing your senses and making you see things that weren't true. Long story short, part of the hallucination involved seeing the (deceased) love of your life, and you kind of declared your love for her. And you also kind of tried kissing her. Oh, did I mention they projected her on top of Iron Cat? Yeah.
You mention to say something, but the Cat stops you, putting one of her clawed fingers over your mouth. "I am flattered, Spider, I really am…" she starts circling you, looking you up and down, as if a predator analyzing their prey. "But you are right. I am here for business. And you are not exactly my type."
Iron Cat wasn't exactly the most heroic suit wearing vigilante around. She did her busts, her thievery, and you two have had some physical altercations from time to time. But she mostly stole from Stark and other not very amicable types, so you do let some of her crimes go through from time to time. You would never confess it, but you have a soft spot for her. It's like you've known her forever, like an old friend.
"Your business is trouble, Cat. You know I don't work that line of work."
"Spidey, you know I never ask for your help on anything bad, don't you? It's part of our… dynamic." she stops circling you, stopping really close to your face. She places one hand on your chest, and you shiver. "But you and I know you do get your hands dirty from time to time, don't we?"
All her menacing flirting wasn't really helping her case. It really just made you feel more uncomfortable than anything. You gulp, gazing at her like a deer at headlights. She knows just how to push all your buttons.
Her demeanor changes, however. She steps back, going back to the building roof edge, looking over the city with her back turned to you. Iron Cat looks down, and chuckles.
"How could I have been so blind…" she mutters, under her breath. "After all these years… You haven't changed at all, have you, Spider-Man?"
That name stuns you. You never knew her as Spider-Man. By all accounts, she shouldn't even suspect a thing. What was she getting up to?
You can't maintain your cool. "I am not him. Spider-Man is dead." you spit out quickly, defensively. Cold sweat starts to form on your forehead. Your fists close. But she is not looking at you.
"I don't get it, though. I was sure The Spider was just another copycat of my friend." she passes around, half ignoring your response. "Cause I did watch the video. The one Sinister Six published online? I saw hi- I saw you die. I saw you die with my own two fucking eyes, and I cried like a little girl for months. I went to your funeral, I put flowers on your grave every week. And you are alive?"
Her voice is clearly shaky, even underneath all the filtering the armor did. It was still robotic, yes, but it was raggedy. You can't help but wonder if she is crying under there.
As if out of instinct, Iron Cat snaps back at you, grabbing you by your neck with all the strength she could muster with her armor. For some reason you can't really yourself understand, you just let it happen, dangling between her clawed hands.
She tilts her head, as if trying to read you. You can't help but gasp out of air, struggling minimally against her hold.
"You made me believe you were fucking dead! I fucking mourned you, you fucking asshole! You know how fucked up that is?!" You don't answer her. Maybe you deserve this.
She softens her grasp for a second, looking down, maybe thinking of something.
She looks back at you, applying even more force on her hold. "And why the fuck would you alive and she isnt?! You were supposed to protect her!" she thinks about something, her face quickly turning away. "P-Please… D-Don't tell…" she looks back at you. You can feel the fear in her voice.
"D-Don't tell me what they said is real. P-Please." her fear turns into rage fueled by desperation. She doesn't want to believe that whatever she is thinking is real. "PLEASE, JUST FUCKING ANSWER ME! TALK TO ME! DID YOU REALLY FUCKING DO IT?! DID YOU KILL HER?! DID YOU FUCKING KILL HER, YOU PIECE OF SHIT?! FUCKING ANSWER ME! WHY WON'T YOU ANSWER ME?!"
But you can't. You think of the monster you became that night. The things you did. You close your eyes, not even being able to bring yourself to cry. What a pathetic existence.
Your inaction just makes her even angrier. Iron Cat screams, activating her elbows thrusters to throw and smash you repeatedly against the building's ceiling. "FUCKING TALK TO ME! JUST SAY SOMETHING, DO SOMETHING! PLEASE! WHY?! ANSWER ME! I JUST NEED AN ANSWER!"
You feel your bones cracking, the ground beneath you beginning to crumble. Her words turn into feral grunts, fueled by her enraged crying fit. She keeps at it for what feels like ages. You do deserve it. Maybe Lady Death will come to collect your due after all.
She slowly stops, looking over your bloodied, broken body for a moment. Defying her aggression from earlier, she exhaustedly envelops you into a tight embrace, still crying.
Warmth emanates from your body, webs surrounding your bruises and broken parts. They stitch you back together, some places even better than before. Slow and steady, you are back in action, another curse from your new powers. You can't really die. Not on your own terms, anyways.
Your healing does not go unnoticed by Iron Cat, however. She stops, looking over your web-based melding. It's hard to read her due to her helmet, but you can sense confusion and a pinch of fear. Your Spider form was just too different from back in the day. Your voice, suit, even powers. Whatever she thought - whatever she believed - maybe she wasn't so sure of it anymore. She let 's you go.
"I-I'm sorry. I really am not Spider-Man. I… I really wish I was." you say, voice shaky from the beating and all the emotions you had just experienced.
"Maybe… Maybe you are not. You don't make half the man he was, anyways." she gets up. Her forearm opens up a holding compartment, big enough for a note that she throws at you.
You look it over. What seems like the name of a street is written on it. You get up, dusting off your suit. You try to get close to her, but she recoils.
"And… What is this?" you ask.
"Something I thought you might be interested in." she answers, her silent propulsors propelling her into the air. She is ready to leave.
"W-Wait, where are you going?"
"I need to… think. You can do whatever you want with that, though. I don't know if I care anymore."
The pink-purplish energy that comes out of her boots intensifies, giving her the force she needs to fly away, leaving you behind. The Hyperion poster towers beside you, his creepily jolly gaze judging you. Tonight was supposed to be a normal night. Iron Cat not only broke your body, but your whole understanding of who she was, and what were her intentions.
You look over to the note again. You sigh. The address might solve your questions, or it might throw you deeper into this rabbit hole. Are you ready to follow what it shows you? As if you had a choice.
You had one certainty, though. The night is only starting. And what the future holds might be even more painful than the beating you just had.