(One) Dr. Octopus looked at his five comrades from the Sinister Six, now together again. "We can now move on to the next stage of our plan."

Immolation

(Two) Just then the Vulture spoke up. "I'm sorry, what plan is this? Why should I be helping you at all?"

"Uh, Vulture, Max is at death's door," Sandman gently offered.

"That's his problem. I don't see why I should care."

"Gee, thanks a lot," Electro responded.

"And I don't see why I should get involved in this clone business at all," the Vulture said to Dr. Octopus. "I bet you haven't even told Electro that you're a clone as well."

"That's… just, oversimplifies, that's…" Dr. Octopus responded awkwardly.

"Isn't Kraven also a clone?" Mysterio wondered.

"That's another thing," the Vulture responded. "First off, I don't really have much affection for Russian aristocrats in the first place. Certainly not for ones who would waste years of their lives because they can't tell human beings from the animals they're hunting.

He then faced Kraven directly. "Second, you kidnapped me and a couple of dozen other people for no other reason that I have an animal nom de plume and tried to hunt all of us.

"The third thing is you're not actually Sergei Kravinoff! The real Kraven blew his brains out with a shotgun. He was revived, but he's dead now. You're a clone of him, but you're not him. You grew up as a boy, killed 86 of your brother clones, and killed the real Kraven once and for all."

"No one speaks to me like that," threatened Kraven.

(Three) "Oh shut up," said the Vulture. And with that he turned around and flew out of the room.

The others looked at each other. "And now we are five," said Mysterio.

"That's annoying," said Dr. Octopus. "But not fatal. Let's get started."

"Actually, Otto," interrupted the Sandman. "It occurs to me that while you are a brilliant nuclear physicist and roboticist, you're not actually a medical doctor or a biologist. How are you going to cure Electro, Kraven and yourself?"

"Clearly, we need first rate minds to assist us. And as it happens, I've found two of them." He pointed to a screen that showed a map of New York City. There were two blinking lights on it, at different places.

Mysterio was looking elsewhere at the lab. "This is some kind of strange sonic device," he said noticing a glass cylinder that could imprison a large man. "What's it for?"

"It's a back-up plan."

"Who are you asking us to get?" Sandman asked with some reluctance.

"Two men who, if they were in their right minds, would want to assist us, William. Don't worry. Morally, you're in the clear."

At the same time, the Kingpin was engaging in his morning exercise, if you consider easily tossing aside half a dozen reasonably strong men as part of his sumo wrestling exercise. Just then a phone rang.

(Four) "Stop," he said in Japanese. An aide quickly scurried in and handed him a phone. "Leave for ten minutes," and the aide and the fellow wrestlers happily obeyed.

"Your progress," he demanded.

"No progress at all, sir. In fact, your son's situation has taken a turn for the worse."

"What about those two doctors I sent to help him?" the Kingpin snapped.

"Let me explain sir. The doctors examined him and discovered that your son was suffering from a rare form of cellular degeneration. The degeneration fluctuates and the only good news is right at this moment your son is a better state than he was when I first called.

"But the serious problem is that both the doctors have caught a virus. So, for that matter have several other members of your son's posse. Including me, as it happens. The virus is very serious. It is related to your son's degeneration but is different in form. The virus is both very deadly and very contagious. The doctors have quarantined the building we are in. But the doctors think we could all be dead in a week."

"What about my son?"

"That I don't know. He could die tomorrow; he could die in two weeks. What he needs is the best medical team in the world researching both the degeneration and the virus."

"I see. What about food, living conditions?"

"We all need food; the doctors have emailed you about to send it without infecting more people."

"Tell the doctors that I'll do everything to keep them alive."

(Five) Slightly later that morning, Spider-Man was entering into one of Harlem's less appealing apartments through the window. He went to a small desk and turned on a laptop connecting a large TV screen. On his person was a full satchel. He removed his mask and gloves, revealing himself to be Ben Reilly, ordinarily known as the Scarlet Spider.

He opened the satchel and removed several mechanical objects. "Now let's see," he thought. "Kaine had some useful surveillance technology, but he couldn't find where Miles Warren—the Jackal—actually was. But if I can add my own technological know-how, along with some special devices from my time at the BEYOND corporation, maybe I can find where Warren is."

After modifying the two Spider-Clones' technology, Reilly uploaded a photo he had of the grey-haired, middle-aged man with a mustache, and started a search. "Now this should examine every security camera, every picture in the entire database of New York City for the past month. If Warren's in the city, this should be able to find him."

Ten minutes later, the large TV screen made an annoying buzz. "Nothing." Reilly noticed a small error message. "Great, this suggests that Warren has also found a way of avoiding these searches."

(Six) An idea came to Ben. He uploaded a very different photo. He then waited another five minutes. And then the screen was full of photos, photos of a woman. The woman was blonde, close to Ben's age and very attractive. But she radiated not carnality but a certain innocence."

"Gwen," Ben gasped.

He then shook his head. It wasn't Gwen Stacy, whom the Green Goblin had murdered years ago, but Warren's clone of that woman. At times the clone's whereabouts had been unknown, though at one point Warren had actually married her.

"She's the only link," Ben realized. "The newest of these photos is three weeks old. But they're all from Staten Island."

(Seven) Meanwhile the other Spider-Man was swinging into one of Manhattan's more reputable neighborhoods. "I should have told Ben about this. But Ned told me not to contact anyone. And Ben hasn't seen this Ned or seen him for the last few years of his life."

The Peter Parker Spider-Man quickly changed into his street clothes and carefully entered the apartment through the skylight. "Now according to Ned, he should be here."

But he wasn't. "Where is he? There doesn't seem to be anything in the apartment that gives me a clue where he is."

Just then Spider-Man received a text: I CANT SEE YOU NOW. YOU WILL HAVE TO WAIT

Spider-Man texted back. YOUR SON IS GOING TO DIE

There was no response. "What the hell, Ned?" Spider-Man thought. Then there was another text: I WILL TELL YOU WHERE I AM IN THREE HOURS.

(Eight) Somewhere in the many neighborhoods of New York City was a dark, fetid basement. Inside, in a corner was the wretched, warped living vampire Morbius, sucking the blood from captive rats, trying to get some rest far from the afternoon sun.

Suddenly Doctor Octopus appeared. "Michael Morbius, I have need of you! I need you to cure my unstable clone form!"

Morbius was not in a good mood. "You are a fool to think I would help any human vermin. Let alone a presumptuous mortal like you!" He dashed right towards Octopus, only to run right through him.

"A hologram!"

"He doesn't seem to be a in a good mood," said an unseen third man.

"Yes, that's quite annoying," agreed Dr. Octopus. "Still, we need to start immediately. If you could…"

(Nine) And suddenly the basement was filled with bright light. So bright that Morbius was knocked out. As he fell on the floor Sandman and Mysterio appeared.

"Those lights of yours seem to have done the trick," Sandman said to Mysterio.

"Put those restraining devices around him," said Dr. Octopus from his hideout, "and return him quickly. And now for our other doctor…" He called another member of the Five.

Kraven answered the phone. "Of course, I have him," he said with a sneer. And right behind him Dr. Curtis Connors, the Lethal Lizard was hanging from the ceiling, helplessly caught in a net.

(Ten) Soon the sinister five were looking over their two captives. Dr. Octopus was handing out the green hoops he had been working on earlier that day. "You need to put these around your necks. They'll prevent Morbius from trying to bite you."

"They're kind of awkward," Electro complained. "I mean, I might want to last days of my life doing something… intimate."

Dr. Octopus glared at him through his dark glasses. "If you want any chance to be 'intimate' you'll do what I tell you. Or you can take your chances and see if you can find someone before you turn to dust. Now put the bloody collar on."

Later that evening, Peter once more found himself in his street clothes looking for Ned Leeds. "Oh, come on Ned," he thought. "This is the third time today."

This time he received a call. "Peter, I can't meet you today. I'm so, so sorry."

"Ned, what the hell?!" Peter noticed the number Ned was calling from. "It's not a number I recognize or can easily find."

"Peter, I'm going to give you an appointment where you can see me tomorrow."

"Ned, I've already wasted one day trying to find you. Why do you think I want to spend another day doing that? For God's sake your wife and son are in a hospital! They may already be dead."

"I'm sending you something else."

(Eleven) Peter saw a complex file. "It's encoded."

"Peter, the best minds of the planet would take 24 hours to decode that file. But if you come to the location I'm texting you in fourteen hours, I'll give you the key that will decode it in five minutes." Ned texted the location, and then hung up.

The next day Wilson Fisk was entering one of the best medical centers in New York City. "Your report ladies and gentlemen."

An Asian American doctor spoke first. "It is extremely grave Mr. Mayor." (The Kingpin was no longer the mayor of New York City, but still expected his former title.) "The only good news is so far the number of people hurt by the secondary virus is only in the double digits."

"How serious is the virus?"

"If we had the vaccine or some sort of counter-virus we could save the vast majority of people infected by it. The problem is that we need to find that countermeasure in less than two weeks. Maybe less than one week. I don't want to panic sir, because if we don't we're facing something that makes Ebola look like the common cold.

"Sir, the government's already on top of it. They're working very hush hush. I don't think there's anything we can add. But there's one more thing."

"Oh?"

"It's too late to quarantine the city. Based on our statistical models and those the government is using, too many asymptomatic people have already left the city. But they won't be asymptomatic for long."

(Twelve) "What about my son?"

"His situation is very different. We don't know what's causing it yet."

"Let me speak to him." Another screen appeared and the Rose appeared, coughing slightly.

"Richard, take off that silly mask," and Richard did so, showing his relatively youthful face. "Anyway, it appears that there is little science can do to ease your situation. Which means that I will have to think very much outside the metaphorical box."

Later that day Peter arrived at what he hoped would be his successful appointment with Ned Leeds. "I gave the file to Reed Richards, and Leeds was right about one thing. It will take 24 hours to decode it" he thought. "Meanwhile Ben is searching for leads in Staten Island. He spent all day yesterday looking for them, and he's continuing today."

Just then he saw Ned Leeds inside a room, motioning him to enter. He quickly did so.

(Thirteen) "Ned, again, what the hell is going on. Why have I wasted 36 hours trying to contact you?"

"You don't understand Peter."

"Damn right, I don't. And where's the computer key?"

"Peter, I know you're Spider-Man."

"What? I mean… Where did you get that…"

"Peter, there's no use denying it. Warren told me. I know I'm a clone. I think I've always known, though there have been times when I thought I believed I wasn't."

"Your son could be dead for all I know."

"Not yet. But he will be. There's nothing I can do to save him."

"Ned, where's Warren? What's he planning?"

"Peter, he wants me to kill you. He says that you're being alive has something to do with the plague that coming from our clones. Only if you're dead can that be stopped. I think it's BS, but he's found a way to program me into killing you. That's why I made the three previous appointments and that's way I didn't meet them. I wasn't strong enough to resist his programming."

He paused. "And I don't think I'm strong enough to resist now."

(Fourteen) Leeds removed a closed vial from an inside pocket. "The virus uses a culture of blood from assorted clones of yours. That way it won't alert your spider-sense." Suddenly Ned grimaced and clenched his teeth. He spoke with difficulty. "If I crush the vial, the virus will be released, and it will kill you." He fell to his knees.

Peter quickly snagged the vial with his webbing from Ned's extremely indecisive hands. "Don't touch it, Peter! You need to get a Homeland Security team in full hazmat suits to deal with it." Ned extracted a firearm from an inside pocket. He unsteadily aimed it at Peter.

"Ned, please, I can help you."

"Peter, Peter. Ned's been dead for years. I'm just a footnote." Ned placed the firearm under his chin and pulled the trigger. What unnerved Peter the most was not the resulting gore but the way all of Ned's body turned to dust once he had died.

(Fifteen) Elsewhere, Michael Morbius was waking up. "Welcome back to the land of the living," said Dr. Octopus.

"I feel… saner? But that usually happens when I drink Spider-Man's blood. And even when I do that it hasn't been working recently."

"I was able to mix Spider-Man's blood with Kaine's genetic material. He was the Spider-Man who dissolved on live television a few days ago if you were watching, and he's a clone of our common opponent.

"I've also been feeding you a minor sedative and using special subliminal frequencies to calm you down. I've also placed a plug at the base of your neck. It will explode should I happen to die."

Morbius stood up. "You need me to cure your clone forms."

"Quite. We have samples of my blood, plus Electro's and Kraven's."

Morbius considered the situation. "When Marie Laveau caused me to return to this hideous form, I thought a cure for dementia might help me. It didn't, but it occurred to me that it might help stabilize your forms."

Dr. Octopus waved to the lab and to his co-conspirators. All five were wearing the green collars. "The Lab and the Sinister Six are at your disposal."

Just then Dr. Connors spoke up. "You need a regenerative asssspect alssso," he hissed. "But before I give it, I need to be sure my wife and ssson are sssafe."

(Sixteen) Also that afternoon, Mary Jane Watson was helping her aunt settle into her new home, which used to be Aunt May's home. She was being helped by two of Anna Watson and May Parker's mutual friends. "I hope you'll be all right, Aunt Anna. Your friends will help spend New Year's Eve with you. I'll come see you tomorrow."

One of the elderly ladies followed Mary Jane as she looked intently at her phone and several messages. "I imagine you have plans tonight."

"Not what you think. Something's come up, about one of my friends and…" Just then the doorbell rang.

At the door appeared John Jameson. "You remember me from my step-grandmother's fun…."

"Yes, of course I do. Why are you here?"

"You seemed very distraught, you and your aunt, and I was wondering what I could do to help you."

"How did you know I was here? Wait, don't answer me. There is something you can do." Mary Jane quickly got dressed into her winter clothes.

"And what is that?"

"You can follow me. Something big is happening." And she yanked him by the arm and they both left Aunt May's house.

(Seventeen) It was late that evening, and Peter and Ben were at Peter's apartment trying to figure out their next move while looking at their laptops. In the background the TV played showing the New Year's Eve celebrations.

"Ben, did you not learn anything from spending the whole day on Staten Island?"

"It's not exactly nothing. I found a few hints, but I need to do more research. And it's hard to do research from the internet of your phone and when everything is closing for the holidays."

"This looks like the return of the Carrion virus, something you should know all about."

"I'm not sure it is. And it may be that my knowledge of it was all part of Warren's brainwashing and that it's fading now that I'm free of his control."

"I wish Reed Richards would get back to me about that computer file Ned gave me."

Just then Mary Jane burst into the apartment followed by her ex-astronaut acquaintance. "Mary Jane, what are you doing here?" Peter asked.

"Peter what the hell is going on with Betty?"

"Ummm… why do you ask?"

"Jesus, Peter, I noticed she wasn't at your aunt's funeral. And now she's in some kind of emergency care situation with her son. Nobody's telling me anything! In fact, people are telling me not to ask anything at all. And I can't find Ned at all!"

"MJ, this might not be the right time…" But just then his laptop made a loud, annoying buzzing sound.

(Eighteen) "What was that?" Just then Ben's laptop made a similarly irritating noise. Peter looked at both screens. "I set up an alert through some special search engines for any strange disease sightings."

"Disease? What kind of disease?" Mary Jane interrupted.

"Mary Jane, if you please." Peter looked at his laptop. "There's an ambulance picking up somebody in Hell's Kitchen."

"There's another ambulance picking up somebody on my laptop," Ben added. "But it's in Crown Heights."

Peter suddenly winced. "Ow! Some kind of migraine? No, it's gone now."

Just then Jameson interrupted everyone. "Uh, guys I think you should look at this."

He turned up the volume. Peter took the remote and quickly started flipping channels. "Breaking News…" "This just in…." "Emergency Alert," "Shocking News this New Year's Eve!" It was on all the relevant channels. "We have just received news that a terrorist attack is planned at Times Square this evening. Already police and special units are moving into the Square to evacuate the holiday well-wishers."

Indeed, that was happening right now, with more people in orange hazmat suits arriving to help the police and army units.

(Nineteen) Just then Peter's cell phone rang. "Hello?"

It was Reed Richards on the other end. "I'm giving up a heads up. What you are seeing in Times Square is not an evacuation from a terrorist attack. It's clearly much worse than that. There is a major epidemic that is just about to break in New York and the authorities are using the threat of an attack to get people off the streets."

"I told Homeland Security about the vial that Ned Leeds clone gave me. What are they doing with it?'

"What Ned Leeds clone?" Mary Jane interrupted. "Oh, Ned was a clone, which make sense since it's not likely he came back from the dead."

"Mary Jane please,"

"They are examining it. They were supposed to update me ten minutes… Hello. Now that's not good. The vial they were studying just vanished."

"What about that computer program I sent you?"

"I did decode it, but I don't have the expertise in genetics to really understand it fully. If only the best X-Men weren't imprisoned or fugitives right now. Maybe if you could look… Now that's also not good. The laptop the program was running has also vanished."

"What?! Did everybody just suddenly become really absent-minded."

"Obviously not. Peter if this is something about clones, you need to bring everyone up to speed."

(Twenty) "Richards, you are looking for a man named Miles Warren. Also known as the Jackal."

"According to my information he died. In fact, it looks like he died several times."

"Reed, you're looking for something called the carrion virus."

"I'm afraid we're ahead of you Peter. The Center for Disease Control is aware of that virus, and it's clear that this virus isn't a simple variant of it. Peter, we know that the virus is extremely contagious, and that clones are both vectors of the disease but are also vulnerable to something else. I need you to bring us up to speed."

"OK, listen carefully. Warren's clones are often unstable. They can and do suffer from cellular degeneration. To simplify an extremely complicated story, Warren made two clones of me. Kaine was the 'Spider-Man' you saw dissolve on live television on Boxing Day. The other is named Ben Reilly and is with me in the apartment." Peter quickly adjusted his phone so that Richards could see everyone in the room.

"If we had one of the clones, it would help in our research."

"The problem with that Reed is first, many of the clones are super-villains who aren't likely to help. Second, when a clone dies, their body usually disintegrates into a pile of dust. As you can imagine that…AAAH!"

"Peter, what's wrong?"

"I had a brief migraine earlier, but it went away. Now it's come back and AARGH!" Peter dropped his phone.

(Twenty-One) "Peter, what's happening?" Mary Jane asked.

But Peter couldn't respond. Although still standing his body was racked with spasms of agony.

Ben picked up Peter's phone. "Mr. Richards, something's happening to Peter!"

"Peter, tell us what's happening to you," Mary Jane pleaded. But Peter didn't respond. Instead, a strange light infused his body. He dropped to the floor. With difficulty he got to his knees and tried to speak, but nothing came out.

"Good Lord," said John Jameson. "It looks like he's disintegrating."

"No! That's not possible!" yelled Mary Jane. "He's not a clone! This shouldn't be happening."

"Mr. Richards, does the disease do this people?" Ben asked.

"Absolutely not. It just resembles and acts like an extremely virulent plague." But then the strange light that infused Peter faded. Now he was a ball of grey for a few instants. And then the grey turned into dust.

(Twenty-Two) Ben got down on the floor and looked at Peter's remains. Mary Jane was stunned while a started John Jameson stood behind her. But except for his former clothes, and a small wisp of quickly dissipating smoke, there was nothing left at all of Peter Parker.