Scott Summers

Joanna wasn't kidding when she said she wanted to go for ten rounds. I was glad we weren't leaving the hotel until late at night. I was spent by the time we were done. I really wanted to be mad at myself for allowing Joanna to bring that side out of me. But what was the point? I enjoyed every minute of it. And I was enjoying lying on top of her as she held me in her arms. As she slowly ran a finger up and down my spine, I found myself wishing that I wasn't here on business. Joanna and I could have spent the next day just lazing around, or maybe even stepping out to see what the city or even the country has to offer. But, unfortunately, I wouldn't have that luxury. So, as the minutes ticked away to the time of our departure, I allowed myself to enjoy and savor the moment.

Eventually the alarm on my phone sounded. Joanna sighed in reluctant resignation. I didn't blame her. Neither of us wanted to get out of bed.

"We have to go," I said, not even trying to hide the disappointment and annoyance in my voice.

"Do we have to?" Joanna groaned out. "Can't this wait until tomorrow?"

"As much as I want to wait until tomorrow, this is a rather urgent matter." Reluctantly, I lifted my head and looked at her. "Otherwise, I'd be more than happy to wake up in your arms."

Joanna smiled. "I'd be more than happy with that, too. And then, I'd serve you up a morning cup of Jo."

I raised my eyebrows. "…Did you just –?"

"I sure did."

I chuckled as I shook my head. "…Good one…" I became serious. "…but we got to go."

"Give me a minute, Slim." I felt her hand slide up my back and onto to the back of my head. "I just need a little sugar." She gently pulled my head towards her face before she placed a kiss on my lips. I was afraid that she was going to go for Round 11. I wasn't so sure I'd be able to resist her. But the kiss was rather chaste and didn't last too long. Short as it was, though, I still enjoyed it. When she broke the kiss, I slowly opened my eyes. We looked at each other for a moment. We shared a smile. In my chest, there was a certain feeling I was having towards Joanna. I knew what that feeling was, but it wasn't the right time to tell her, and not just because of the circumstance we were under. So, instead, I stole another kiss from her and removed myself from atop of her.

"So, want to share a shower to save time?" Joanna offered.

"Absolutely not," I replied as I gave her a knowing look.

She pouted. "Why not?"

I scoffed. "You know damn well why not."

She smiled sheepishly. "You can't blame a girl for trying."

After we got ready, we were on the road in a black Nissan Qashqai. I used the GPS on my phone to navigate to our destination. Between the GPS and the lack of traffic due to the late night, we reached our destination in a relatively short time.

"Highgate Cemetery," Joanna said. "Is this the place?"

"It is," I said. I stared at the gate for some seconds. There was a certain feeling in my stomach. Something told me I wasn't going to like what we were going to find.

"Are you sure you want to do this? Digging up someone's grave isn't something to be taken lightly."

I looked at Joanna and frowned. "Up to this point, my intuition has been right nine times out of ten. To be honest though, I'm hoping for the 10 percent. Still, we have no other way to get to the bottom of this at the moment." I took in a breath and let it out. "Let's do this."

I reached over and opened up the glove compartment. I then pulled out two ski masks, along with a Chiappa Rhino 60DS revolver and a box of ammunition. I handed Joanna the weapon and the bullets, along with one of the ski masks.

"A Chiappa Rhino?" Joanna commented. "I haven't used one of these in a long while." She looked at me. "I wouldn't think you'd give me this kind of weapon, though, considering you're big on practicality and all."

"I would have gotten you something a bit more discreet, but it was the only weapon I had in my stash that I could carry around in my glove compartment," I explained. "I almost wanted to acquire a different weapon for you, but then I remembered that you're more than strong enough to compensate for any recoil. The only reason I kept the weapon around is because of my cover identity. Erik The Red has a reputation to upkeep, after all."

I closed my eyes and removed my glasses. Keeping my eyes closed, I carefully put on my ski mask. After adjusting it a few times, I reached into the pocket of jacket and pulled out my battle visor. I turned it over in hands before I put it over my eyes. Slowly, I opened my eyes. I blinked a couple of times before I looked over at Joanna. She had her ski mask on and just got done loading the revolver before she grabbed some bullets and put it in the pocket of her jacket. She then looked at me.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

"Almost," I replied. I opened up the center console and pulled out two flashlights. I handed one to her. "Now I am."

After we stepped out of the car, we walked up to the gate. Joanna wrapped her arm around before she jumped over the gate, taking me with her. She landed on her two feet before she set me down. I looked at her nodded. She nodded back at me before she turned on her flashlight on, prompting me to do the same. We walked through the graveyard in silence, checking every tombstone we pass by. The search went on for a long time. I expected that. It was a rather large cemetery after all. Still, time seemed to have crawled to a snail's pace.

Eventually, we found the gravestone we were looking for. We stood in front of it. As I read the gravestone, feelings of contempt filled my chest.

"'Here lies Quentin Beck, brilliant scientist, loving father, selfless hero'," I muttered out.

I hated every word of that sentence. I never did buy the hero act that Quentin Beck was trying to sell to the world. Maybe it was just my intuition. Maybe it was because I've had both firsthand and secondhand experience with people like me – people who are Black and/or mutants – being targeted and framed for crimes that were not their own. But ever since The Daily Bugle released the video about Spider-Man, I couldn't help but think that there was a lot more to the story than what was being told. Months later, after Peter told his side of the story, I just felt disgusted.

It was already bad enough that Beck wanted revenge on someone who's no longer alive. To use a kid to do so and to destroy that kid's life after that plan went south was a very special type of evil.

"You know, I'll never claim to be a saint," Joanna began. "And I know they say never speak ill of the dead. But considering what he did and the reason he did it, I sincerely hope he's in hell, getting slow roasted on a spit."

"I can't say I disagree," I replied. "Hopefully he is dead."

"And if he's not?"

"Well, like Betty said. The 'no kill, no excessive' thing is not a rule – it's a guideline."

"…How many people have you killed?"

"Between my time in the Air Force and being an X-Man? More than I care to admit." I sighed. "Please keep a look out."

I didn't say anything else. I stepped up and tilted my head downward. As I aimed the flashlight towards the ground with my left hand, I pressed the side of my visor with the index and middle fingers of my right hand before I let loose a beam. It wasn't my most powerful beam. It was just powerful enough to dig through the dirt at a steady pace. It wasn't power I needed, for the most part. I needed precision. I could have blown a hole six feet deep into the grave if I wanted to, but I didn't want to risk damaging or destroying the casket and everything inside of it. That would defeat the whole purpose or us being here. Every now and again, I stopped firing my beam to check the hole for any signs of the coffin. After several minutes, I finally unearthed what looked like wood.

"Pay dirt," I muttered to myself. Now that I knew how deep the coffin was, I let loose a more powerful beam, carving out the dirt around me until the entire coffin was revealed. I let loose another beam and carved out an incline for Joanna to walk down. I waited for her to do so before I turned and faced the coffin.

"Here's the moment of truth," Joanna commented. I nodded before I walked around until I found where the casket opened. I reached down and opened up the top half of the lid.

As Joanna walked to my side, I looked down at the coffin. I frowned.

There it was – the body of Quentin Beck. He was buried in a suit that looked like it was rather expensive at the time it was bought. I studied his face. His skin was pale, as to be expected. But other than that, his body looked well preserved with no other signs of decomposition.

"Was I wrong?" I said to myself. It seemed like it. And yet, I felt like there was something I missed. I continued to stare at the face. Something about it was… off.

"…Hey Slim," Joanna spoke up.

I looked at her as she continued to look down at the body. "What's up, Jo?"

"When did Beck get got again?"

I tilted my head. "If I recall correctly, it was summer of last year. Why do you ask?"

"I'm no expert on anatomy or anything, but it's been several months. Don't you think his body is looking a little too… fresh?"

I looked at the body again. I studied the face again. That's when it dawned on me. The only thing that really looked corpse-like about the body was the pale skin. As I noticed before, there was no sign of decomposition despite how long Beck was dead for.

"…You're right," I said.

Joanna didn't respond. Instead, she leaned over and brought her hand down on the corpse's face. I was about to say something before she literally ripped the face off of it. My eyes went wide. I was about to say something before she stood straight up and looked the face over. She turned it in her hands a few times and squeezed it.

"…This is ballistics gel," she said.

Under my mask, I raised my eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

She looked at me. "Ballistics gel – you know, the stuff they use for gun ranges and weapons test." She looked down at the face in her hands. "This must be high-grade stuff for it to last past three days, let alone for several months. So either his grave got robbed, or…"

"He's not dead," I finished. I shook my head. "We're leaving. We need to take the next flight back to New York."

"What about the grave?" Joanna asked.

I looked at it for a moment. I thought about trying to do something to rebury the coffin. But what was the point? Even if I did, making grass grow wasn't one of my mutant powers. So, I decided to do the next best thing.

"Let's go through his clothes and damage them," I ordered. "We'll make it seem like it got hit by grave robbers."

After we got done desecrating the grave, we were on the road back to the hotel room. As I drove, I looked forward. I tapped my finger against the steering wheel in thought. I went over the facts in my head.

Quentin Beck was supposed to be dead. Yet, there was a fake body in his coffin. Maybe his body was taken away after his death, but it was more than likely that he faked his death somehow. Assuming he was alive, there was a good chance he was going to set his sights on Spider-Man again. And since Spider-Man is an X-Man, that meant that Mysterio was going to be the X-Men's problem.

I was taken out of my thoughts when my phone rang.

"That better not be a side chick," Joanna warned. I looked over at her. She smirked.

"Troll," I scoffed out.

"You damn right. "

I rolled my eyes before I took the phone out of my pocket. I brought the phone in front of my face, low enough so I could still see the road. "It's Kitty." I took the call and put the phone to my ear. "Hey Kitty… Yeah, Joanna and I are on our way back to our hotel. We're going to catch the next flight back to New York." I paused for a moment as Kitty asked me a question. "Yeah, unfortunately, my intuition was right. Yeah… Yeah… I'll be the one to break the news to Peter… Hey, are you okay? You sound a bit out of it." I paused for a moment. I then raised my eyebrows. "I'm sorry, what happened to Craig?" I glanced over at Joanna, who looked at me with a raised eyebrow. I looked forward. "How bad is it?" I listened to Kitty's answer. "…Shit." I sighed. "…Okay, we'll be back soon. Uh-huh… Uh-huh… Okay… Bye." I hung up the phone. I put it back in my pocket shook my head.

"Is everything okay back in New York?" Joanna asked.

"No, no it's not," I said. "Craig is in a medically induced coma."

"What?! Why?!

"There was a fire out in a condemned house in Queens. Craig was in the building. He's alive, but he suffered third degree burns over most of his body."

"Why was he in that building?"

"From what I understand, Craig was looking to hit a stash house that belonged to a big time drug operation."

"So how did the fire happen? Was it an accident? Was Craig caught slippin'?"

"I don't know. We won't get any answers while we're here."

I kept a calm exterior. Underneath it all, I was worried and alarmed. Maybe it was just an accident. Maybe Craig was trying to help some squatters out of a fire. Those were definitely possibilities. However, my intuition was acting up again. I had no way of proving it at the moment, but I had a feeling that what happened to Craig was connected to what Joanna and I just discovered. At the moment, though, my only priority was going back to New York as soon as possible and seeing what can be done for Craig.

"Am I the only one who's getting a weird feeling about all of this?" Joanna said grimly.

I shook my head. "No, Joanna. No you're not."