Author's Note: All properties are the rights of their respective owners, Marvel, Respawn Entertainment, etc.
I forgot how much I loved Helldivers 2, but the announcement of a new update is keeping me from making this much longer as I hurriedly try to install it to get back to spreading more Freedom.
Artorias 78: Welcome back, I can't wait to see either because I'm still working on all the details, so it'll be an adventure for us both.
AthrixUnbroken: Yeah, get back on PWQ, otherwise a lot of this stuff isn't going to make much sense.
Quick reminder to everyone that I uploaded 2 chapters in the initial batch, so make sure you saw the Wild Pack in action before reading this chapter because that one was kinda important.
For a song today, I'm going with an oldie but a goodie, Willie Nelson, famed member of the Highwaymen and face of Outlaw Country, more classic hits than you can shake a stick at, and this one was an easy choice. If you got a complaint, then I'll borrow a line from Kevin Fowler and say "Don't touch my Willie!"
Authority Without Asking – Chapter 3: On the Road Again
On the road again
Like a band of gypsies, we go down the highway
We're the best of friends
Insisting that the world keep turnin' our way, and our way
Is on the road again
I just can't wait to get on the road again
The life I love is makin' music with my friends
And I can't wait to get on the road again
Waiting was something that Mary Jane Watson was, not good at, but had grown content with; the Associate Editor got enough practice at it anyways. Waiting on contacts, waiting on her coworkers, waiting on Peter, usually that last one, all were part of MJs daily routine, and today wasn't all that much different. With their departure delayed, the redhead had taken the opportunity to go through her inbox for any last-minute messages, if only to give herself something to do that wasn't pace nervously around the waiting area, fretting over things beyond his control.
Speaking of which….
"I brought enough batteries, and all my lenses were in the carry case, right?" wondered Peter aloud before his next words were directed at the redhead. "MJ, did you…."
"Yes dear," she answered preemptively, doing her best to not sound all that bothered, but some of her irritation slipped through. She loved Peter, truly, but for all of the qualities she loved, there were one or two that she could do without. He had always believed that his power came with a responsibility, but he sometimes thought that responsibility extended farther than she would have liked. That had long been a point of contention in their relationship, Peter would push, and MJ would push back, they'd broken up over it in the past, but they'd changed, she had changed, and now they both relented when the argument sprang up. "All your lenses were in the bags, I picked up more batteries at the store on Sunday, and I even brought your swimsuit."
"Swimsuit? MJ, it's December," pointed out Peter, but the redhead merely shrugged, smiling pleasantly. Her smile faded when the Queens Native spoke again, "But what about…."
"Peter," she cutoff, her words bringing him up short, "Take a breath, relax." To her relief, Peter did just that, and when she took her backpack off the seat next to her and patted it, her boyfriend got the hint and sat down, prompting Mary Jane to turn and face him. Grabbing his hand and rubbing it, the redhead gave him a steady look, "Do you trust me?"
"Of course, MJ," replied the brunet instantly.
"Good, you have nothing to worry about then. This is something I want, for us. I made sure to take care of everything," she assured with a smile. Peter returned the gesture, but she could see in his eyes that he wasn't entirely convinced. "Listen baby, I know you're worried that if you leave the city for two weeks it'll burn to the ground, and I'm so happy that you agreed to come with me, but I can tell when something's eating at you. Is it Miles?" she guessed.
Peter squirmed under her gaze, "A little, but…."
"It's Matt, then," she surmised. Peter didn't reply, but the way he tensed was answer enough.
Matthew Cooper was like Peter in some ways, resilient, courageous, and very capable, and as the Marauder, had been a valuable ally for Spider-Man. But the Texan Pilot never saw things quite the same way as the Webhead, a byproduct of his past fighting a week-long campaign against the IMC, MJ thought. Cooper was, by nature, aggressive, his plan of attack was to always attack, usually with overwhelming force. And when Cooper had set his sights on the Maggia crime families, he'd stayed true to form. Working with the Black Cat, they'd devised a plan to turn the families against one another and cripple them in one fell swoop, but Don Hammerhead hadn't been very accommodating. The Marauder and Black Cat had strung Spider-Man along, unwittingly making him a part of their plan until they'd faked their own deaths right as they gang war they'd inadvertently started began to heat up.
She'd watched Peter get eaten away on two fronts, both by the brutality of Hammerhead and his thugs and by guilt over his friends. When the truth was revealed, Peter had been fast to forgive, and they'd worked together as always, the same formidable team that they'd been for almost two years at that point. The wounds from that episode were scabbed over, still raw, for Peter and, MJ could admit, her as well. Even if she'd seen the Pilot after he'd left New York, Mary Jane could tell he wasn't quite the same either. Even for her, it'd been the better part of four months since she'd done anything but exchange messages with Felicia Hardy, the Black Cat, about this trip, and while she sold it as catching up with friends, it felt like this would be a whole new chapter, for all of them.
"Peter, I…" she began, only to be rudely cut off.
"Now boarding United Flight 144 to Paris. All passengers proceed to gate C83, that's gate C83 please. United 144 to Paris," droned the PA system.
Peter almost seemed relieved as he shot from his seat, picking up both their backpacks like they were nothing. "Hey MJ, I bought one of those headphone splitters from the gift shop over there," he said, throwing a thumb over his shoulder, "Wanna help me test them out?"
The pep that had returned to his voice was enough to elicit a smile from the Associate Editor, "As long as I get to pick the movie, Tiger."
A knock at the door caused Miles to look up with a start, the poorly wrapped box he had been looking at clutched tightly in his hands. "C'mon dude, it's me, open up," came the muffled voice of Ganke Lee, stirring Miles from his stupor. The teenage superhero set his mentor's gift aside and sprang from the sofa, walking past the picture covered wall, everything from his parents wedding pictures, school photos, and his father's NYPD portrait. The pictures of his old man had captured his gaze, warm but firm, and it still affected the teenager, even if his father had died more than year prior.
Reaching the door, Miles eagerly threw it open and hurriedly ushered the chunkier Korean American teenager into the Harlem apartment. "Yo, Ganke!" he greeted, closing the door.
Miles could tell his best friend was poised to burst at the seams, and Ganke could hold it in no longer. "Dude! Rhino?! What?"
Hurriedly shushing his friend, Miles couldn't keep the grin from his face, "Haha, yeah. Here, come check this out."
"Dude… is this Spider related?" asked Ganke, nearly jumping past Miles to get at the box on the couch. Picking it up he gave it an experimental shake, "Please tell me it's a piece of Rhino's horn or something."
"I dunno… but I doubt it," admitted Miles as he took the box back, it didn't feel heavy enough to have any of the supervillain's iconic armor, but with his superhuman strength, it wouldn't have felt that much different if it had. "But it was a gift from Spider-Man, the OG."
"Woah," marveled Ganke, staring at the box in awe before giving the teenage Spider a gentle shove, "I'm loving the suspense here, but go on, open it."
Smiling nervously, Morales timidly tore at the tacky paper to reveal the box beneath, and that was opened with the use of his sticky fingers and a fraction of Miles' enhanced strength. "Woah," murmured a wide-eyed Miles when he saw what was inside.
Ganke couldn't help himself, and the bigger teenager leaned in to get a peek at the contents. "Duuuude!" he exclaimed, "Put it on!" urged his friend.
Miles leapt over the couch to get back to his room, and as soon as he closed the door, he began to don the present. Taking a deep breath, Miles went back out to face Ganke, and the reaction from his friend confirmed his own first impressions. Despite the recognizable color scheme, with blue pants and sleeves and a red colored top and mask, patterned with black webbing, and instantly recognizable pair of white, bug eyes on the mask, it was clearly not the real Spider-Man's costume. The pads on his knees and elbows were a dead giveaway, but a few testing motions revealed they didn't impede much, and his battered and bruised joints were grateful for the extra protection. Similarly, the gloves were thicker, padding to help when punching, something his scabbed knuckles would similarly appreciate.
Ganke's reaction summed it up. "Woah…."
Miles' head bobbed in agreement, and he just looked down at his hands in the web covered gloves, getting used to the way the spandex hugged him like a second skin. Before the soft material had warmed to his body heat, the world flickered before his eyes, causing the teen to flinch before realizing that the mask was booting up when his earpiece came to life with a cheesy horn sound effect. "Miles Morales – congratulations, and welcome to your very first Super-Suit!" proclaimed Spider-Man, or rather the recording of his mentor. "First thing to know, and it's very important, your pockets! They're inside the waistband, and if you check the one on your right…" Miles hastily did that, ripping open the Velcro and reaching in before coming out with a card. "You should find your very own access card to Parker Industries! Head there to get the next part of your gift, the GPS in your suit should be displaying a waypoint for you… now."
Right on cue, a yellow diamond appeared in the corner of the Heads Up Display along with a distance marker indicating a few thousand meters to the south. Turning back to face Ganke, Miles saw that his friends grin was as massive as his own beneath the bug eyed mask. "This is only half the present!" exclaimed the young superhero.
Ganke's jaw dropped, "Well… what's the other half?" he sputtered.
"I don't know," admitted Morales, turning his head to look back at the marker before taking the mask off and looking down at the key card in his hand, "But I'll let you know when I find out."
Stirring slowly, Matthew Cooper stretched his arms and let out a yawn, blinking away the last of his drowsiness as sunlight poured through the massive floor to ceiling windows of the master bedroom. Standing, the Titan Pilot pulled on a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt before taking a look out the window, taking in the view. Perched in the Symkarian mountains overlooking the capital city of Aniana, the dacha had once belonged to a member of the regime ousted by Silver Sablinova earlier that year. When Cooper and Hardy were invited to the Wild Pack, they were given the dacha to be their home in the small European country.
The room, like most of the mountainside home, bore Felicia's touch, and the platinum blonde's taste in art deco pieces was apparent. The geometric patterns his girlfriend had chosen stood out from the muted colors of the walls they were hung on. Cooper ambled out of the room, poking his head into the attached bathroom and closet and saw his girlfriend wasn't there, so he kept on. Out of the master bedroom, the Pilot checked the small loft that Felicia liked to go to and dabble in her own art or curl up with a book.
Heading down the stairs, Cooper's nose picked up a subtle aroma coming from the kitchen, and so he turned that way. Past the deck holding the hot tub and his own office, complete with desk, binder filled bookshelf, and a wall covered in dozens of guns from his collection, alongside a few pictures of his various exploits, be they as the Marauder or merely memories of time with friends. Two flags adorned the other wall, one of his home state of Texas, the other another symbol of that state, a replica of the 'Come and Take It' flag flown at Gonzalez. Past that was a spare bedroom with associated bathroom, and then another bedroom converted into a well-equipped gym they both used to stay in top form.
The high-ceilinged living room once again showed Felicia's taste, the art deco style between her wanting to have an artistic theme to the house and it being one the Texan could tolerate. Still, the comfortable seating and big TV were all he really needed, but Felicia had insisted on more for entertaining, and Matt had, as he often did on these things, acquiesced to her desires.
In return, he'd gotten the garage.
Looking across the living room and into the kitchen, he could see the steam rising from the stove, obscured by the lovely sight of his girlfriend, in a thin white tank top and matching pair of panties, idly working the pans. The welcoming aroma of cooking bacon drew Matthew towards the kitchen, and while he made an attempt to be stealthy, Felicia wiggled her hips enticingly, a blatant effort, Cooper knew, to bring him to her. Not that Matthew had any intention of not obliging the vixen, striding towards her as he took in her curvaceous hourglass figure. Wide hips and narrow waist with a buxom backside that was firm with her rigorous exercise stretching her underwear, all perched upon long, muscular legs that were pleasantly bare, he never got tired of the sight of Felicia. Her long tresses of platinum blonde hair were done up in a messy pony tail, and even still they went halfway down her back. When Matt came up behind her, he wrapped his arms around the woman and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Looks delicious darling," he drawled as his hand traced its way up her flat belly to cup a fulsome breast, "Can't wait to eat."
Felicia purred happily, pressing her backside into him as she took a spatula to scoop the bacon and scrambled eggs onto a pair of waiting plates. "Are you talking about my cooking Matthew, or me?" she asked with a flirtatious lilt. Cooper answered her with a chuckle and soft squeeze of her breast before taking their plates to a cozy breakfast nook. Sitting down, Matt looked up to see Felicia sashaying his way, two steaming cups of espresso in her hands and a smirk on her face that only added to her beauty. With mischievous green eyes, high cheekbones, and a pair of full lips, Felicia was the complete package, and the heiress, daughter of a New York Socialite, knew it.
"Good morning, Darlin,'" greeted Cooper as he took his cup and downed a sip, "Sleep well?"
Hardy sat down across from Matt and promptly kicked her legs up, her feet resting on his thighs as she reached across to swipe of piece of his bacon, prompting Matt to roll his eyes. "I always do, when I have you to keep me warm," she replied, reaching for her planner while Cooper went to work on his eggs and unlocked his own news laden tablet. "Looks like we have a busy week ahead of us Cowboy. Sable wants us to go over our little mountaintop caper last night. I think you wanted to head down there anyways, right?"
"Yup," answered Matthew, looking up from his newsfeed and sending his hand down to rub his girlfriends foot, prompting her to hum contentedly. "Sable's got some new hardware arriving this week and I wanna take a look."
Felicia shook her head, "Boys and their toys," she sighed, but her smile didn't fade in the slightest. "Just don't get too distracted, we still have to be at dinner in the Royal Palace tomorrow night, and I expect you to wear that suit I got for you." Matt opened his mouth to answer, but Hardy beat him to it, "I'll be wearing my black dress, the one you like," she said, and Matt closed his mouth. Felicia winked in acknowledgement of her minor victory, and Matt responded with a quick tickle to the sole of her foot, eliciting a surprised yelp from the Thief. When she glared at him, Matt's hand shifted up to her calf, "Better," she said before resuming. "Nothing else really exciting, but we won't be bored, not with all the stuff I've lined up to do with our visitors. You ready for that?"
Nodding as he sipped his coffee, Matt answered, "As we can be, we're stocked here, got snow tires on all the cars…."
"I wasn't asking about the cars, Matthew," intoned Felicia softly, derailing his train of thought. Matt fell silent, fork picking idly at his eggs before his girlfriend continued. "I know it's been a long time but…."
"Did I get over the fact that I screwed over my best friend?" snapped the Texan before immediately shrinking, "Sorry, Felicia, I… it fucking sucked, I don't regret it, not with what we got done, I just never liked having to do it." Cooper's mood soured, and he tossed the last piece of bacon in his mouth before grabbing his coffee and tablet and standing from the table. His mind churning and needing to do something with his hands, Matthew retraced his steps and wound up in the garage. The Pilot went past the couples' half dozen cars, a mix of luxury sedans and Jaguar convertibles for Felicia and American sports cars and a Ford Raptor pickup truck that he favored. All were well cared for, and one corner was dedicated to the lift and tools he used on the cars. Another held a bench and set of secured cabinets where he kept the rest of his guns and gear, and Cooper opened them to pull out his latest project.
Setting the compact Sig Sauer MCX Rattler on the bench, the Pilot laid out a handful of tools and accessories before sitting down to tinker with the super short .300 Blackout carbine. He wasn't sure how long he worked on the gun, but it was enough to swap optics and rearrange the whole fore end arrangement. Going from a thumb-over-bore setup to one centered around a folding foregrip, meant he had to change the location pressure pad that controlled the laser light combo, now at the 3 o'clock spot on the MLOC handguard, now sat at the 7 o'clock spot. He was getting a feel for the setup when he heard the door open behind him and put the Rattler aside.
"Hey, you alright?" asked Felicia, and Matthew felt a tentative touch on his shoulder, "I didn't mean to spook you there."
Looking at the clock on his desk, Cooper realized he'd been tinkering with the Rattler for nearly half an hour and let out a breath. "I'm fine, and it wasn't anything you did, Darlin,' believe me," Cooper answered. Felicia came alongside, leaning into him as she wrapped an arm around him. "Sorry about overreactin' like I did. Just trying not to think about this too much, y'know? I'm afraid I'll get in my own head about it."
"That's why I like you, handsome, you act, no hesitation," soothed Felicia, her fingers tracing their way across his shoulder. "And Spider, he isn't one to forget, but he will forgive. This isn't the time to dwell on the past, what's done is done. We still have a lot more to do, right?"
"That we do," agreed Cooper before sitting down, Felicia coming around and taking a seat on his lap. Placing a hand on her back, Matthew asked, "Whatever happens, you have my back right? If it looks like I'll screw this up, you'll set me straight, right?"
"I'm not very good at 'straight,'" she teased before leaning in to give him a quick kiss, "But I'll be right with you, I promise." Cooper sighed in relief, and Felicia was quick to follow up. "Hey, chin up, Cowboy," she said, a finger pressing up under his jaw, "You aren't the only one who wants this to go well."
One of the Texan's eyebrows went up, "What makes you say that?" he asked.
Felicia's lip just curled into a mischievous grin, "Just call it… feminine intuition," she answered coyly. Before Matthew could press her further, the Thief switched subjects, "Just remember, this is a vacation for them, a chance to getaway. And it sounds like they could use it." Matt saw his girlfriend's gaze look towards his tablet, and looked to see the headline on his feed. 'Rhino's Holiday Rampage Stopped by Spider-Man!' it said, complete with grainy security camera photograph of the hero wrangling the Russian villain. "And they aren't the only ones," added Felicia, drawing Matt's eyes back to her as she stood up. "With how busy we were prepping last week, you haven't been paying nearly as much attention to me as you should, Handsome, how about we fix that?" Turning away, she strutted to the door, hands grabbing the hem of her top and pulling it up as she walked away, the added sway to her hips drawing Matt's gaze. When she reached the door, top all the way off, she stopped and looked back at Cooper, "I need a shower, care to get my back?"
Arriving at the waypoint marked on his Heads Up Display, Miles pulled out the keycard he'd been gifted and presented it to the scanner next to the door, pulling it open when the light turned green. Entering Parker Industries, Miles was wowed, as always, by the vast array of gadgets and gizmos in the workshop, many of which he'd had the opportunity to use on various projects with his mentor. But in the sea of armor prototypes and inventions in progress was a new console that Miles didn't recognize, and the teen's curiosity drew him towards it. "What is all this?" he wondered, looking at how the cables snaked out of it and around the room, "Three-dimensional projection tech? Are these… haptic feedback gloves?" he wondered, examining a pair of fingerless gloves before the monitor suddenly flickered to life.
Miles hunched over to get a better look, only to recoil back when it spoke to him, "Miles," greeted the voice of his mentor, coming at him from a 3D hologram perched atop the equipment, "Get ready for your first holographic training challenge. Put on the gloves and socks." The teen hastily complied, noting that one of the displays showed the location of the wearable interfaces in a representation of the cleared space in the center of the workshop. "There are several challenges uploaded to this console, each one focusing on a different move or technique. "Get into position to start."
Miles saw an upload bar fill on his HUD, marked with the designation 'Training Program 1.' When it finished, a spider web appeared on the floor, and Miles instantly hopped to the spot. "Holo training, I am so down," said Miles, trying to maintain his dignity but too excited to bother.
"First up: Air combat," began Spider-Man, "Fighting the enemy on your terms is a great way to gain the advantage." A holographic manikin holding a bright red approximation of a crowbar materialized before him. "Launch your foe into the air and then follow up with a mid-air attack." Taking a moment to psych himself up, Miles thought back to seeing clips of Spider-Man fight and the uppercut he often used, but he himself lacked the overwhelming strength to replicate the move. He could knock a guy back, but not up 15 feet, so he instead dove forwards, planting his hands on the ground and tucked his legs in before exploding up, driving his feet up into the sternum of the dummy and feeling a pulse in his feet from the 'impact' courtesy of the haptic socks. Flipping back onto his feet with superhuman speed, Miles launched himself up after the manikin, twisting his whole body to throw a pair of punches, followed by a wild kick that caused the hologram to fizzle out of existence.
"Good job Miles. Now, for a personal favorite: The Swing Kick," announced a hologram of Spider-Man before he jumped up and fired a virtual webline at the ceiling, the tension and angle of the synthetic silk pulling him forwards as he kicked out his feet. With an acrobatic backflip, the Webslinger came back down and turned to face the teenager, "Now you give it a try, Miles."
Spider-Man fizzled out and was replaced by another training dummy hologram offering itself up as a target. Remembering the pendulum problems his mentor had made him do, Miles took careful aim at the ceiling and hoped his mental arithmetic was spot on as he jumped and loosed his line. Swinging forward, Miles felt the impact on his feet, even if his momentum didn't slow, and watched the hologram fly back before shattering on the wall of the workshop. "Well done, you got this!" encouraged Spider-Man, his hologram giving the grinning teen an enthusiastic thumbs up. "Now for another Spidey Staple: disarming. Disarmed opponents are far less dangerous… and it's really satisfying to knock people out with their own weapons. Now, I couldn't find a way to make this work with the holograms so we're doing this one the old fashioned way."
Miles turned to look where the hologram was pointing and saw the training dummy that had been used as a basis for the holographic ones he'd been practicing on. In its hands was a bright blue plastic and rubber approximation of a rifle pointed towards the center of the room. "Set your feet and square your shoulders, you want to be able to get a good stick with the webs. Try to hit one web at the front and the other at the back of whatever weapon you're trying to get."
"Ah, I'll be able to generate a bigger moment with the same force, more torque," realized Miles as he brought his hands up and took careful aim. The Webshooters were accurate within a few dozen meters, but they were aimed totally by instinct. Spider-Man made it look easy, but in Miles limited experience he had been yet to master them in the same way their inventor had. Closing one eye, and then the other, Miles realized that, if he had to do this for real, he would be in serious trouble, so he jammed his fingers down on the buttons to trigger his webshooters, promptly throwing off his careful aim and sending both weblines errantly into the dummy. "Argh, c'mon," groused the teen angrily.
"Don't get discouraged Miles, when I first tried that move, I missed completely and the criminal I was fighting actually laughed at me." The teenager looked at the hologram, mouth agape before he broke down and smiled at thought. "Now go ahead and try again," encouraged Spider-Man, and once Miles got his laughter under control he raised his arms and tried again. He was somewhat more successful, with one web finding its mark, but the second sailed errantly over the target's head. Shaking his head as he disconnected the weblines and tried again. The third time, his aim was true, and when he saw both lines connect with their intended marks, he couldn't help but feel a surge of pride.
"Yes!" he exclaimed, grabbing a tight hold of the synthetic silk, Miles yanked hard, feeling the dummy's grip give as he ripped the rubber weapon away and spun on the spot, swinging it around in a circle before it clocked the dummy in the side of the head, tipping it over. The sound of its impact echoed through the workshop of Parker Industries, causing Miles to wince at the racket.
When it subsided, the hologram of the Webhead reappeared, "That's a bingo!" proclaimed the Spider-Man stand in. "Now if you want, step over to the console and put it into free form practice."
Without hesitation, Miles hit the keys to initiate the extended practice mode, but when he looked up he saw that the holographic form of Spider-Man was standing right beside the console. "Now Miles, I don't want you to neglect everything else just to play with the new toys, so I've put a 30 minute time limit on it per day. And if you try to get around it, no webshooters for a week when I get back. A new lesson won't open for a few days."
"Aw man," groused Miles but knew better than to try to argue with a hologram, not that he could second guess his mentor, and the hero he had idolized even before he was bitten by the spider that gave him his superhuman powers. And, as much as he didn't want to admit it, Miles knew that Spider-Man was right. Turning back to the computer, the teenager hit the key to start the sequence, too eager to have any concept of moderation.
When the practice sequence started, Miles threw himself at the first hologram with a smile on his face.
"Was it like this when you were here?" asked Peter as the couple ambled through the airport outside the Symkarian Capital of Aniana. Mary Jane had covered the civil war earlier that year, remaining in the small eastern European nation right up until the coronation of Silver Sablinova.
"Not… exactly. Sable's been busy, that's for sure," replied Mary Jane, "The war never reached the capital, not much fighting happened inside the city. Supposedly the utilities are back for the whole city, and the damage repaired, but there hasn't been much in the way of new construction, so don't expect a classical European city here, Tiger." The redhead took in the details of the airport, which was the same one she had flown out of, but it had been given a new coat of paint, the clean white and pristine silver making the terminal feel more modern than it was. It, like the rest of the city was a shining example, if there could be such a thing, of late 20th century brutalism. "These shops, it's all new. Clearly a lot of people believe in Sablinova if they're investing in the country like this," commented the redhead as they passed by a mix of European and American stores making it feel like LaGuardia or De Gaulle, albeit much smaller. Passing by a McDonalds and getting a whiff of the familiar smell of burgers and fires, MJ couldn't help but comment, "Almost like we never left, huh?"
Peter hummed, but didn't reply further as the pair pressed on to the terminal's central hub, passing by a number of TVs playing a variety of news broadcasts from every corner of the globe. Looking around, MJ noted that the passengers milling about or moving through the terminal were mostly international, at least that had been her impression when the pair went through customs. There were a number men and women there for business or on diplomatic missions, all smartly dressed, but there was a large number of armed forces personnel. Some wore uniforms representing half a dozen different nations, but many more, Mary Jane noticed, traveled with rucksacks or duffel bags and had a bearing that the reporter had come to recognize after spending the better part of two months surrounded by Sable International troopers. The redhead judged most of these were members of the Private Military Company, or perhaps were newly recruited to Sable International.
Peter didn't miss the PMCs presence either. "Never thought I'd see those stormtrooper rejects again," he mused, "I'm surprised Sable still needs a private army when she could have an actual one."
"She has one of those too, Tiger. The Symkarian Defense Force is the national army, answers more to the Parliament. Sable International is tied directly to the Cown. Not just a private security force anymore either, they are expeditionary, reorganized since the civil war to take contracts that involve more than just backstopping police."
Peter turned to face her with a wide-eyed look, "Like what?"
"A tank company to Africa to protect an oil refinery from a rogue faction of the neighboring country's army, her counter terrorist specialists in the UAE demonstrating their tech, and some of her pilots are cross training with the RAF," rattled off Mary Jane, since she'd contributed to some national papers for coverage of Sable International following her experience with them. "She's using Sable International as a policy tool, trading their services for resources, help get into the arms market and make Symkaria an arms exporter, or to make diplomatic inroads." It was, as most commentators said, a novel strategy, but it had helped, at least that was the impression Mary Jane got from the airport. "And I don't think Sable is anywhere near done yet. She's been able to get almost anything she's wanted so far."
Turning to her boyfriend, Mary Jane could see the gears in his head turning before he turned and probably saw her cheshire grin, "What are you thinking, MJ?" he asked.
The Associate Editor allowed her smile to widen, "I want to see what it is Sablinova has gotten back. There's been a lot of attention put on Sable International, but I think the story is how Sablinova is using it to help her country. She's already got a few different trade deals signed. Doing war games with the US Army means that Symkarian farms will be planting their spring crop with American combine harvesters. Technology sharing with the Polish got them trucks to drive on all those shiny new German roads and French power stations paid for by the EU for, probably, intel about the Ministers and their backers."
"Wow," remarked Peter, "That's… a lot. It must have been expensive, the harvesters, those are millions. Roads… no idea, can't be cheap. Those French power stations, I remember reading about them, new type or reactor. Modular design, Natrium, a kind of molten salt, super-efficient, really interesting, those were supposed to be like… quarter of a billion a piece. Where'd she get all the money?" asked the man who never could balance a checkbook if his life depended on it.
"Those contracts got Symkaria's foot in the door of the global food markets," replied Watson, flicking a strand of red hair off her ear. "And now that the mines for titanium and rare earths are starting to become operational, Sablinova has a lot of faith from a lot of people, faith that has cash attached to it."
"That sounds like a good thing," observed Peter.
"Brings problems with it too, Tiger," cautioned the redhead. The look of bewilderment on her boyfriend's face was more amusing than worrying. "Corruption is always a worry, but Sablinova has been cracking down on it pretty hard. There's also been a lot of talk of monetary policy, keeping the Symkarian Franc strong without too much inflation from all the spending, she's walking a tightrope, economically. I want to write about if the country will make it to the other side."
And, judging by first impressions, Mary Jane thought the there was a pretty good chance.
Moving into a central rotunda that also served as a baggage claim, the Bugle Editor saw that there were few efforts to hide the claims of progress. Companies had set up displays to showcase what was happening in the country, and in MJ's estimation, about forty percent of them belonged to John Deere, Komatsu, and the like, about what projects were enabled by their products. The rest however, a clear majority, belonged to defense contractors, drawing a faint smile from the redhead. It seemed that Silver hadn't changed, despite her throne, at least not that much.
Retrieving their bags, Mary Jane gave her boyfriends arm a tug, "C'mon Pete, the car Sable's sending won't be here for a bit, let's have a look around. Besides, I need you to explain all the jargon to me." Unable to help but smile as Peter acquiesced, Mary Jane led him towards the mass of screens and models, phone in hand with notebook app at the ready. "This Oscrop cloaking tech, is it what Sable had on her aircraft carrier?"
"The In Amber Clad? More or less, only that was a whole network of much bigger cloaking field projectors," answered the scientist. In Amber Clad was a Sable International helicopter carrier that the Symkarian Mercenary had brought to Manhattan and was the site of the climactic battle with Maggia Don Hammerhead. Oscrop had more than just their optical camouflage field on display, even if that did attract the most attention from curious travelers who stuck in limbs and saw them vanish before their eyes. The next Oscorp display had on it an array of the company's Sable Advanced Individual Lift System, S.A.I.L.S., or so the placard proclaimed, an acronym so obnoxious it caused Mary Jane to roll her eyes. "Wow, they really managed to get the size down, I remember how bulky the first ones looked. I wonder how they handle heat dissipation…" mused Peter.
Seeing the look in the man's eye that he always got when he was engrossed by whatever problem had gotten into his head, Mary Jane made a comment to snap him out of it. "That one looks familiar…" she mused, eying a smaller pack enclosed in a thick bulletproof glass case. A 'Kinetic Individual Thruster' that bore more than a passing resemblance to the Marauder's Jump Kit.
Peter hummed in acknowledgement before the couple moved on, killing time as they looked at Oscorp sensors and munitions before moving on to a collection of displays all showing scale models of vehicles. It seemed that the hodge podge of hastily acquired vehicles Sable International had taken into Symkaria were to be phased out, replaced by newly built ones from a variety of arms manufacturers. The mix of Russian ground vehicles, BTRs, Sprut-SDs, and SM22 Tunguskas were to be replaced by the CV90 family, a whole array of variants on display in model form. The Ukrainian T-84s were slated to be replaced by the new Gryphon 1, based on the South Korean K2 Black Panther and developed jointly by Hyundai Rotem and Nordvik, which was a name Mary Jane made sure to note.
Nordvik, a small firm from Sweden, had made some noise at defense trade shows in the fall, Mary Jane hadn't paid much attention to that. But when Silver Sablinova signed them to become Sable International's technology development partner, everyone paid attention; the move was a front-page story for that brief moment. The company relocated to Symkaria in what was seen as one of the first big splashes from Silver's regime, dispelling any rumors that she planned to cease her mercenary activities.
The news had gotten onto Capitol Hill, enough to sway some votes to allow the sale of American arms to the small nation, which was why Northrop Grumman had a display for one of its fighter jets. Even if next to it was a full sized, cutaway model of a European MBDA Meteor missile that the plane was modified to carry. Of course, not to be outdone, the Kremlin had responded in kind, and another joint project had run through a rapid development course between Nordvik and Kamov to replace the KA-52 Hokum helicopters in the Sable International inventory with a new type. A Russian airframe packed with Symkarian and Western electronics called the YG-99, and the type was already in initial production. "Wow, that's fast… like really fast," commented Peter when he read the timeline.
"Impressed, Tiger?" asked MJ in a teasing tone.
"A little," he admitted, "That's like Sable though, determined when she puts her mind to something."
"She really must be, the politics involved here would make for an incredible story," mused the redhead as her phone buzzed in her purse. Pulling it out, the Associate Editor read the message before giving her boyfriend's arm a tug. "C'mon, our ride's here, let's go," urged Mary Jane as she steered Peter towards the exit, coaxing him away from the Roxxon display about some sort of automated manufacturing device.
Pulling her jacket tighter around her, Mary Jane braved the chill in the December Symkarian air as she stepped out the door, and going by her memories of the airport and the area specified in the message, she led Peter towards their ride. Walking down the sidewalk, MJ noted the mix of vehicles coming in and out, many in recognizable Sable white, but a few, probably, government vehicles in black, and a number of civilian vehicles, mostly older models, but a few newer ones in the mix. Signs of progress, to be sure, but Mary Jane couldn't shake memories of the Sable International occupation of her home in New York.
Her mind was wandering about trying to get interviews from Symkarian citizens about the new government when she rounded a corner and felt Peter come to a sudden stop. Head snapping up to ask what happened, her eyes fell on a pair of familiar cars waiting for them. The closer one was a low-slung, black convertible sports car with the top up and a badge depicting a pouncing jaguar splayed across the trunk. Beside it was another sports car, but with a longer hood adorned with black racing stripes against the red body, and badges depicting a coiled viper with fangs out. The driver's door of the Viper swung open and from it emerged a smiling Matthew Cooper. The Pilot hadn't changed all that much, still with the same close cropped dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, and ruggedly handsome features. "Peter!" he shouted, an unabashed grin on his face, "You son of a bitch!"
Mary Jane stepped aside as Cooper strode up, hand held up in front of him. Peter, seemingly taken by surprised, hesitated before bringing his own up and the two met. It was then that the reporter could see the difference between the two men. Peter was a lean 170 pounds on his 5' 10" frame, and as Mary Jane knew well, he was absolutely ripped under his peacoat, Cooper was a bit taller, just above six feet, and carried his 205 pounds well, though his embellished bomber jacket, with patches with different logos that belonged to both the Frontier Militia and Sable International was fitted to conceal the pistol he was likely carrying. "What's wrong?" asked Matthew as he flexed his arm, "That business of yours got you pushing too many pencils?"
There was a little glimmer in Peter's eye, so fleeting that MJ almost missed it, but she couldn't help but smile as the Queens Native used his superior strength to overpower Cooper without straining in the slightest. "Had enough?" quipped Peter, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Cooper let go with a wince, shaking out his hand but with the same smile on his face. "You okay Matt?"
That elicited a bark of laughter from the taller man, "Nah, I'm fine Pete," he assured as he massaged both his hand and his ego.
It was then that MJ felt a presence beside her and turned to see the platinum blonde Felicia Hardy standing beside her. The redhead jumped, but the reaction only caused the heiress to smirk, "Don't break him Spider, that's my job." Even in her fur lined winter coat, which MJ had no doubt was designer, Felicia looked sexy, hip outthrust with a hand on it and heeled knee high boots. "You two miss me?" she asked with a flip of her pony tail.
"You? Yes. The way you flirt with my boyfriend? Not so much," replied Mary Jane, but the remark was more playful than angry. Felicia gave a cheshire grin, not looking the slightest bit remorseful. Still, that didn't stop MJ from embracing her warmly, the pair exchanging a hug, like old times. "What are you two doing here?" asked the redhead.
Felicia turned towards Matthew, who looked bashful all of a sudden, "Ah well, figured y'all'd appreciate some familiar faces when ya got here."
"'We,' Cowboy?" drawled the platinum blonde, causing Matt to give a lopsided grin and shrug. Felicia chuckled before turning back to her black Jaguar, "C'mon Red, you're riding with me. Let's give the guys a break… for now."
A gust of wind spurned the group to get the luggage into the trunks of the two cars before settling down inside. Mary Jane found herself in the passenger seat of Felicia's Jaguar as the heiress brought the sports car to life, the echo of the engine's howl filling the garage around them. This was matched a second later by the deeper, throatier rumble of the V10 engine in Matthew's car, and after Cooper gave his car an experimental rev, the red Viper eased out of its parking space.
While Felicia guided the car out of the garage, Mary Jane allowed herself to relax in her seat, letting out a yawn as exhaustion and jet lag started to catch up. In the edge of her vision, the redhead saw Hardy turn and ask, "So, now that it's just the two of us, how've you been? Things going okay back in Casa Watson?"
"We're managing okay," she answered truthfully, "Staying busy, Peter at the lab and as Spider-Man…."
"I didn't ask about Spider," cut off Felicia, "Honestly, I'm just happy that the boys seem to be getting on alright. Matt's been stressing out about it for the last two weeks. He wouldn't say, but he doesn't need to."
Unable to help herself, Mary Jane let out a chuckle before she broke down into a full on bout of laughter. "Him too!?" she exclaimed, "I swear to god, Pete's been walking on eggshells too. I don't get it! They left on fine terms, what, did they think the other had changed and wanted nothing to do with each other anymore?"
"Men," consoled Felicia with a shake of her head, "Can't bring themselves to talk to each other unless their women force them to do it." MJ nodded in sympathy as she melted into her leather seat, far more comfortable than the one on the Airbus, and heated to boot. "What about you, staying busy too, Red?"
"Uh, yeah, mostly. The grind of being a working woman. Meetings, deadlines, writing," she rattled off.
"That sounds dreadful," commented Felicia as she brought the car to a halt at a redlight. "Having fun at home at least?"
"No complaints," returned MJ, "Peter helps out where he can, mostly with cooking, I try to keep the place clean. Because if I left Peter to clean the apartment it would look like… well, like Peter cleans the apartment."
"That wasn't what I meant and you know it," replied Felicia, a sour expression on her face.
MJ couldn't suppress a smirk, "I do." The light went green and the pair of cars turned onto the ring road around the capital city. "Still, now I'm wondering, how do you two handle that? I don't really see either of you being all that domestic?"
"We are… sometimes. Matt'll cook a steak or whatever, I might make us breakfast, but usually our staff takes care of stuff like that," answered Felicia.
"You have a staff?" asked MJ, mouth agape.
"A small one, mostly to clean twice a week, sometimes cook. Matt won't let them do the cars," returned the platinum blonde. "They're great, really discrete, and know not to come when we're home."
Mary Jane quirked an eyebrow, "Why's that?"
"Because all the walls are really thick," answered Felicia. MJ's brow furrowed, and Felicia elaborated. "In our first week here, the poor girl almost walked in on us while we in the middle of…."
"Alright, got it!" snapped MJ, "Didn't need to know that." Looking back at the platinum blonde, MJ saw her expression, and her stomach started to knot, "What's that look Felicia?" The heiress' smirk only grew slightly as she hit the turn signal and guided the car off the road. "Wait, what's this? Where are you going?" asked the reporter. "Felicia…."
"Oh, I must've forgot to mention," cut off the heiress as she steered the car onto a winding mountain road. "I figured I'd save you two the cost of a hotel and let you guys stay with us. So relax, unwind, and feel free to scream as loud as you'd like… I certainly do. Let's just have an agreement between us to keep it in our rooms. Don't want the boys getting jealous."
"Them? You have a staff! I'm jealous!" retorted Mary Jane.
"You clearly haven't noticed how good you must look in a bikini," was Felicia's smooth answer.
MJ's mouth opened, but she decided to just take the comment for what it was: a compliment. Just as she settled down, a thought hit her, "That's why you said to bring swimsuits?"
"For when you use the hot tub," answered Felicia bluntly, "I know you have to do some work while you're here, but this is still a vacation. Kick back, put your feet up, have Spider make you see stars, relax."
"I think we have very different ideas of relaxation."
Mary Jane Watson Research Notes - Nordvik
Founded by Mäns Nordqvist, Erik Nilsson, and Oscar Bergman in 2002, Nordvik was a manufacturing technology company aiming to spearhead automated manufacturing, and quickly gained a reputation for innovation in developing heavy machinery. With their manufacturing techniques developed, they got a contract producing parts for Volvo Construction Equipment in 2009, branching out into design in 2013, but did strictly mining, agriculture, and construction vehicles until Silver Sable extended an offer. While they still produce some industrial equipment for the civilian sector, their focus has now shifted towards defense and security contracts. The expertise developed for large scale, high speed manufacturing from modular assembly lines, 3D printing, and robotics has allowed Sable International to build up a new force quickly with proprietary equipment without being beholden to the existing military industrial complex.
That being said, Sable doesn't want to be independent of it forever, not with the massive factories Nordvik has constructed that could produce far more equipment than Sable International could ever need. No, Silver Sable wants to be a part of the global security industry, but not as a mere buyer, Symkaria would be a supplier.
Closing Notes: Yes, this one was chalk full of references, Predator, obviously, the first story, and Battlefield 2142, which I did pick up for $5 and did enjoy some parts of. Hopefully y'all enjoyed this chapter and have a very Merry Christmas, and I should put up another chapter before the new year.
Till next time, Stay Frosty, Misfit Delta out.