Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Marvel, especially none of the Spider-Man Universe. It would be so nice though. So much merchandizing options! Ahem! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this particular chapter.
Warnings: There might be some death. Yunno… Somewhere.
Triggers: None.
Navigating The Curve
By Juliette Lyst
Who Are You?
Main Universe
Midday
A young woman sat near the window at the back of a coffee shop, dressed from head to toe in black from her cap - which obscured her hair from view - to her shoes. Twisted away from the whole of the shop in her small corner, the way she sat effectively blocked out anyone who would have wanted to speak with her. Currently, she stared out the window as the world passed her by. Her arms were folded, and she'd been leaning back a little in the seat, worriedly chewing on her bottom lip.
Maybe it was a bad idea to come out here. The thought came unbidden. So strong was the desire to just escape the four walls she called home, that she had accepted the offer for coffee and companionship. Her friend, if she could call the other woman that, looked more uncomfortable than she felt.
Since they'd come here, neither of them had spoken a word. It had been a suggestion to sit here, but now…
Maybe she should just go home. It would make things so much easier. As she thought over how the two of them looked, she felt an unexpected bubble of laughter form. It never made it past her lips. Her friend was dressed for the day, wearing a veritable cornucopia of colors.
The woman was always prepared to dress for the seasons, perfectly matching the fall weather that had begun to gain traction. She even had found a fetching hat to wear. "I'm sorry for bringing you out here,"
She finally perked up, hearing those words.
"I know you don't like… Look, I'm worried about you." Agitatedly, her friend twisted light brown hair around one of her fingers. "I know that you need some time from work, we all understand."
"I wonder when our orders will get here," she responded, not wanting to acknowledge those words. Not yet… "Thanks again for the invitation, Marilyn."
That obviously wasn't the sort of feedback that Marilyn was waiting for. Disappointment was visible in her face. Silence settled between the two of them like a blanket. No acknowledgement of Marilyn's heartfelt words. Nothing at all said about the worry everyone felt.
It's fine everyone can claim they understand. It's fine… Even in her mind, she seethed. She never thought she'd be in the type of situation that she suddenly found herself in.
What was meant to be a five-minute wait stretched to ten… with both women not putting a voice to what was going on.
The server was coming to their table with drinks for them. She didn't even mention the awkwardness in the air. "Anything else, ladies?"
She asked, waiting patiently.
Marilyn glanced to her friend hesitantly and looked to the server. "Strawberry turnovers." Keeping quiet, she noticed that once again she had her friend's attention. Looking at their respective mugs, she even saw a contrast in beverages of choice. The barista that made her drink had put a heart in the center of her cappuccino. Her friend though? "I never knew you drank black coffee…" She remarked.
As they spoke, the server left to retrieve their order.
A grimace followed, as Marilyn noted that even the offered packets of sugar were ignored. "Black and bitter, huh?" That particular volley couldn't pass without acknowledgement.
"… It doesn't matter what everyone thinks." Was the simple reply she gave.
How should I take this? Marilyn wondered. Fragments of conversation were better than none, but the broken statements were still puzzling. "But you still like turnovers, don't you?" She waited patiently as her friend drank deeply from the mug.
"Of course… That was for me, wasn't it?" Despite herself, she did smile at the idea of the treat. It wasn't often that she spoiled herself with anything at home.
"Honestly Mary Jane…" Marilyn responded as their turnovers came to the table. "You know how much I dislike strawberries."
The server's right brow shot up sharply at that, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she left her customers to their afternoon.
Despite her words, Marilyn reached out for one of the turnovers and began taking small bites of it. She was unable to avoid pull a face at the taste. "Eugh… Really now, how can you eat these?"
That elicited a small smirk from Mary Jane. "Can't escape them now. You've already ordered them. I suppose I can help you eat them." Mary Jane reached for one of the turnovers, nimbly grasping one.
Without warning, Marilyn reached across the table with her left hand and pulled off Mary Jane's shades right as she was biting into a turnover.
"Hey!"
Marilyn shook her head and folded the shades down, tucking them right into the top of her blouse.
"That's a lot better." Marilyn replied, winking. Abandoning over half of her turnover on its napkin, she returned to her cappuccino. "I should have brought some gum to wash the taste out of my mouth!" She made exaggerated choking noises, her face scrunched up in disgust, finally eliciting a laugh out of her friend. "You sound better too."
Mary Jane rolled her eyes.
"Please… it's not wrong for you to smile."
"Hmm… So you say." She wasn't going to try to retrieve her shades and Marilyn knew that. "Cheeky of you." She remarked. Her green eyes were twinkling in mirth. "I'll have to keep my eyes on you."
Marilyn lightly shrugged. "Good thing then that I can now see your eyes, huh?" Mary Jane's laughter died down a little, but there was pure gratitude written all over her face.
Undisclosed Location
It was so mystifying. Her body felt as if it had been turned inside out. That was an impossibility though, right? I hate these machines! she thought in fury. As soon as she realized what she'd thought, her mouth dropped open. Just when had she started feeling like that about anything mechanical? Considering what she was…
"You can go back to your assignment, Ashley."
Rubbing the back of her neck then, she looked over to ECHO as the man bent over the secondary monitor on his console. It seemed for the time being, his work on bionic body parts had been abandoned for bigger fish. The man had made a name for himself in the creation of both artificial limbs and entire robotic harnesses. He was currently under contract to create not mere prosthetics, but enhanced cybernetic limb prosthesis that could be wired to the nervous system. The artificial limbs were supposed to look exactly like the real thing.
Not only that, but full sensation was meant to be restored, chief among them touch and the ability to feel differences in temperature. It was strange how the tall, unusually thin man had so quickly made a name for himself. Five years ago, no one had even heard of him. He operated under a separate name, of course, for his legitimate contracts.
His obsession with all things mechanical had manifested in the creation of his latest android. Ashley was his favorite, and the gynoid knew this. ECHO spent so much time building on what he had called 'the perfect woman'. When he'd completed her, he never stopped upgrading and steadily added enhancements to her over the years.
"Understood." Ashley replied. Redirecting her attention, she returned to her motorcycle - unaware of a set of eyes on her.
What the thin man thought of her was difficult to explain. Pride could easily top out the list. Everything about her, from conception in sketches on a blank page to watching her move with his own eyes - to him it was pure perfection. His automatons were all made to showcase his studies in human dance and movement.
Ashley was unaware that everything about her, from the rhythmic twitch of her hips to how she flicked her hair over her shoulder and offered him a brief wave as she left his base of operations - all of it was a marvel of working parts with perfect symphony inside her compact frame. He had never been so focused on a project in his life. Building Ashley had lit a fire inside him, one he expected to remain once she was online.
Instead, the opposite had happened. As time went on, and he watched her learn how to move and communicate… He began to notice a subtle lull that caused bitterness to bubble up from within. He had become…
Bored. Very bored.
Nothing gave him excitement, nothing except for the times he wanted to tweak some part of her . Though she was artificial, she towed the line between organic and inorganic with what she was built to withstand.
She could eat and drink. Ashley was given tentative enhancements to enable her to taste and smell. She could shower without concern or be completely immersed in salty liquids without any adverse issue.
He could take her anywhere without worry that her true nature would be revealed. He'd given her a positronic brain.
She was far more interactive than anything he'd seen before, and he certainly enjoyed the back and forth in their conversations.
The framework that her electronic neocortex was built around was designed to mimic human reactions. The redundant silicon central processing unit she carried in addition had already been upgraded and replaced twice.
ECHO never expected the maturity he'd seen over the years with her.
She showed compassion and submission to those in authority over her.
He took her along so often because she was literally made for him. She was his sole handiwork alone, belonged to him part and parcel. No one else could claim ownerships of even a fingernail. As such, ECHO was extremely protective of her. If he wasn't so focused on 'obtaining' additional designs for other machines, she would never be allowed to leave his lair. He was displeased at the knowledge that she was staying in an apartment, far from his reach.
Even if it was to solidify her cover…
Yet… There she went. "Parting is such sweet sorrow…" He spoke under his breath, finally gathering himself and returning to the newest focus.
Lower Sewers
In the darkness of the sewers, the only thing audible was the distant drip from a damaged pipe somewhere further down in the tunnels.
Disgust flit across the hooded man's pitch-black face as he carefully avoided a suspicious puddle. He was covered from head to toe in a long black cloak, which evenly matched his skin. White hair peeked out from his hood. His nose crinkled at the odors wafting up to him, and he continued walking.
The stench was so unpleasant.
Why, He wondered. Do we continue to meet under here? He was sure that no one would be able to tell if they met in a different location for once. Above the fetor and filth.
Meeting locations weren't his decision alone, which infuriated him. He knew that he wasn't alone in his dissatisfaction that it had all come to this . One of the people he was going to meet with was a very wealthy man. However, money and power never meant immunity from the common infirmities that befell all men.
That line of thought led him back to the reason that they were all meeting to begin with. Otto Octavius, the darling of New York City was for all intents and purposes - dead. That meant that whatever plans the scientist had in mind had died with him. Also… Those infernal, meddling octobots were gone too. At least, that was what all of them hoped.
No one could be certain though, because for the past several months, Otto had worked underneath the banner of Kingsley Industries. Then, there was the matter of Doc Ock's abandoned lab. It had escaped no one's notice that while the good doctor had moved most of his machines from that place, not all of them had been relocated.
All of them were learning that the lab had been infiltrated. A faint scratching sound caught his attention, and he stopped walking. His pause was long enough for a sewer rat to scurry out of a large pipe right in front of him.
It halted a moment to stare at him, and then resumed its scrambling.
Where did it come from? He rounded on the pipe and narrowed his eyes. He could have easily walked through it, to investigate. Reconsidering, he shook his head and returned on his original path.
Later
"It took you long enough to get here." the blonde woman said, frowning heavily in palpable frustration. Her right hand was clutching a manilla envelope.
Instead of responding, he shrugged, a smile stretching his dark mouth wide.
"We don't have time for repeated delays…"
"Aww. Don't be so negative." He replied. Uncaring of the nasty stares he received from those gathered in the room, he only addressed
one. "Dmitri."
At the man's silence, he continued. "So, are we ever going to find out why we're here?" Not waiting for the Russian-born man to answer, he leveled his stare on the lone woman there. "Never took you as someone who stuck to the underground."
"Lizzy's decisions are her own Li," Spoke a man in a black business suit. "We just follow her lead."
"Never took you to listen to mere girls, Norman." Li remarked. "There has to be more to it. What does she have for you, hmm?" Li's white eyes stared ahead; a flicker of a frown visible for a moment.
"Perhaps a more stable formula?" He clapped his hands together. "That's what it is, isn't it?"
He noted the glimmer of anger forming in Norman's eyes. "She found a way to fix your flawed formula, and then you'll fly again." Seeming satisfied, he clapped again. "What a wonderful performance."
"Don't be a cad." Lizzy remarked. "This is merely business." Her blue eyes betrayed the kernel of anger she was holding in. She was
never comfortable with dealing with those outside of her immediate circle, but desperate times called for desperate measures. "We need to retrieve the rest of Octavius' machines. You know what the problem is."
Li nodded exaggeratedly in response.
"What I want to know is why should this matter to me?" His pale brows angled down, his features twisting slightly. "I have my own empire, my own money. I don't need to deal with the body of work belonging to a dead man." He was quiet for a moment, his jaw working. "Give me a good reason to even bother with any of this."
What was he even doing here? There were plenty of other ways for him to entertain himself. Scoffing, he turned on his heel and quickly
headed towards the exit.
"Your company could be affected," Lizzy responded. "All of our companies could face ruin because of Otto."
Instead of turning around, Li remained standing with his back stubbornly facing her.
"There are rumors that he was working on machines that were capable of cracking into any secure computer system in the world."
Li snorted. "I don't know if you all remember clearly, but Otto worked with machines solely. He never got into cybercrimes."
The scientist had never thought of such things, though he had suffered for periods of time with limited funding. The financial history of Octavius was up for grabs on the black market, and everyone wanted a peek.
Too bad his schematics weren't as easily located. It seemed he had stored those elsewhere.
"That's because he was like you, Li. He was a small man, who thought in small terms."
That infuriated him. He spun around in a fury at her words, surprised to see Norman step in front of Lizzy.
"Oh, what do you think you can do to me, Norman?" Li stomped over to both of them. "You're not the Green Goblin anymore. Remember?"
Instead of drawing back like he would have in the past, Norman straightened to his full height and looked right in Li's eyes.
"Mister Negative, I suggest you exercise caution. Otherwise, we're going to find out just how far your healing abilities extend." Norman crossed his arms, a stony expression on his face.
Hesitating at the warning, Li backed off.
"Smart man. Continue, Lizzy."
Not bothered at all by the exchange, Lizzy cleared her throat. "I'll remind you that he worked under the Hobgoblin - in his laboratory. He moved everything there, but there was still some sort of security at the site of his old lab. Norman and I wanted to figure out why. While Otto was alive, there was only so much that we could do."
Opening the manilla folder she was holding, she extracted a photograph and turned it so that Li could see it. "Now we know that someone else is involved."
Li took the picture and studied it closely. Whoever went into that lab had completely torn it apart. Wall panels were missing, and even segments of the floors had been stripped. "We aren't sure who was in there." Li lifted his head for a moment.
"No clue at all, huh?" He fought the urge to crush the photograph in his grasp. This was being overthought. Surely, the risk and threat was exaggerated… right? "Didn't any of you look at the most obvious person to be involved? It has to be Roderick!" Li's lips thinned into a straight line. "Though I never thought he would work so crudely. This looks more like something Vulture would have done."
"He's still behind bars, remember Li?" She reached out a hand for the photograph, expectantly.
Jerkily, Li handed it back to her.
She carefully slid the image back into her folder. "We've already excluded Roderick in any of this." She was careful as she measured the weight of her next words. "His security system was disabled by whomever raided the lab." She swallowed, uncomfortable with the information that she was sharing. Norman had told her that they needed reinforcements though. She agreed, reluctantly. "There are also indications that a single entity did all of this… in one night. Scrambled the security net, disabled the secondary security system and stripped the laboratory down to the studs."
All of them were quiet then, even Dmitri.
The face-shifting man usually had something to say. Not tonight. Not in this case.
Just who were they dealing with?
Parker Family Home - Night
The entire house was dark, save for a single light in the kitchen. The lone figure there sat in a metal folding chair, a ceramic mug grasped in both hands. Long gone was the dark lipstick that Mary Jane wore, but her expression was still grim. Her outing with her friend Marilyn had been welcome. After they'd eaten, her friend had suggested that they go to see a movie. Against her own wishes, she had agreed.
She knew that Marilyn was always the type to go see romantic comedies and was pleasantly surprised that they both went to see a kid's movie instead. The shock of the evening had been when Marilyn burst into song along with the dancing banana on the screen.
MJ now knew more about her friend than she ever wanted to. The laughter she'd experienced in the movie theater had lightened the dark cloud of depression that hovered over her.
She was home, though - away from other people who wanted to help her. She supposed the house belonged to her now, considering what had happened to the previous owner. A telltale prickle in her eyes warned her where her thoughts were leading her. She couldn't help it. MJ had shared the house with Peter for so long.
It was his family home, and she had understood what it meant when he asked her to move in. He loved her so much - only for her to turn against his love. I never should have returned his ring. She could
see it in her mind's eye now, walking up to Peter the day after leaving that letter and trying to talk through their problems. He would have been resistant at first.
Who could blame him?
The same day, he would have sat with her at their favorite coffee shop and they would have talked. He would have listened, like he always did and forgiven her. He always forgave her, no matter what it was. Only this time, the young man wasn't given a chance.
This time, her actions had cut him too deeply. When she'd gone with the police all those months ago to the station, it had been a waste. Maybe they thought that she knew something more. To the entire world, they were engaged and happily so. How could she have told them about the break-up? Her concern proved to be unfounded, because they knew about the dissolution of their relationship -had found the letter she'd left.
So, it turned out she'd been brought to the station to gauge her level of involvement in Peter's disappearance. Unable to provide them with more information, MJ was escorted back home.
Then, the Daily Bugle ran a piece about her missing fiancée. It was everyone's expectation that he would quickly be found.
Days became weeks, then months. Not wanting him to lose his house, fervently believing he was still alive, Mary Jane had taken the steps required to take over the home. Her petition to be placed on the deed of the house was still pending in court. Had he returned soon; she would have dropped her request. She just wanted him back, in one piece.
At first, when she'd seen the picture of Spider-Man on the front page of the Bugle, hope sprung anew in her heart. Peter was alive… It would just take time for him to get to her. The longer she read the article though, her elation turned to concern.
Devastation.
That was the only word that worked to describe the pictures of Pier Sixty after Otto's 'Unveiling' had gone wrong. Firefighters needed to intervene to get the flames under control. More telling was the photograph posted to the front of the Daily Bugle. Snapped was an image of Peter right as he was flying toward a strange cylinder. Octavius was holding onto him.
Was that the only reason that Peter had made an appearance? To be a hero for one last time? Tears had prevented her from reading anymore once she saw the pictures.
Oh Tiger… The emptiness she felt inside was slowly stretching its spindly fingers into other aspects of her life. She had already turned down a job with a top modeling agency. Her own agent was spitting teeth over her decision. Losing out on the contract meant that they both lost out on money. She hadn't cared, had told her agent as such on the phone before abruptly hanging up on him. What use was money to her right then?
Peter had been the one who was uncomfortable with a lavish life. He wanted simple things, had wanted to stay out of the limelight for the most part. That was in contrast with how he behaved in costume.
Spider-Man was known for his agility and wisecracks. He was missed during the months of his absence. Instead of a happy
reunion though, they were all planning a funeral for the masked hero. Unable to reveal his secret, even after his loss, MJ instead moved to grieve alone.
There were no remains she could even bury. She couldn't lie about Peter's body being found outside the city, nor could she reveal the truth that he'd worked so hard to hide. The stress of living life with him had been taxing on her at first, but now it was sorely missed. She missed his kisses in the mornings and the nights they would watch movies and eat popcorn.
She even missed having to bandage up his scrapes and cuts. He'd dealt with more than one round of broken bones, bruises and burns. Through all of it, he had soldiered on. He'd nearly broken his back last year. Yet that hadn't been enough to convince him to hang up his spandex tights. He was the bravest, most selfless man she'd ever known.
Her mobile phone buzzed from where it lay on the kitchen counter, but she made no move to check it. She didn't want to deal with anyone else tonight. Deeply inhaling the steam that rose from her mug, she paused a moment… then swallowed down some of her tea.
It was going to be a very long night. Undisclosed Location
It was a true showing of ingenuity. The time and effort that went into every little gear. ECHO noted with excitement. The hour was late, yet the tall man continued to work. His eyes were bloodshot from studying the blueprints drawn up from the images extracted from Ashley's memory banks.
The octobots were a feat of engineering. ECHO's mouth stretched into a wide grin. He could improve on the small bots, make them better. He had some other contacts who had their greedy eyes set on Otto's designs as well.
A faint alarm sounded in the distance as he bent over his console. He had been working tirelessly on two separate projects, but if he was able to stay awake another four hours, his newest cybernetic limb would be ready for the client a day ahead of schedule. That was, if he was able to concentrate. Whenever he had to wait as his nanobots worked on the intricate circuitry inside the leg, his eyes were again drawn to the blueprints.
The alarm silenced itself after five minutes, and he heard the doors behind him open.
"Sir, it is time for you to take your medication." ECHO ignored the small automaton.
"And rest."
He heard the rhythmic clank of footsteps as the bot walked over to him. His near fevered gaze was furious at the interruption.
He was so close. So close, he could taste it.
"Who told you to bother me?" he asked the small machine, flippantly. He managed to keep the heat out of his words.
"You did, sir," it replied simply. "Sixteen hours - five minutes ago, you told me to come here." The machine was perfectly balancing a tray that held three pill bottles and a glass of water. The bottles all had
the same notations on them: 'For G. Berry Only.'
All at once, ECHO seemed to deflate a little. That was true. He would be a wise man to listen to himself, wouldn't he?
"Sure, sure. Let me have it then," Abandoning his projects, he moved to open the pill bottles one at a time and pop a single pill, pushing them down with generous gulps of water. "There…" he said with satisfaction, loudly smacking his lips. He set the glass back down on the tray. "Now, you can leave me be." Already dismissing the bot, he turned back to his console.
"Sir, you also need to rest. Your own commands." Faint green light was visible behind the bot's visor and one by one, the entire console and its monitors turned off.
Mouth dropping open in shock, ECHO slammed a fist angrily into the console.
"I should scrap you for that," he snarled under his breath.
The automaton seemed unaffected by its creator's words. For its own safety though, it did take several steps backwards.
"Your orders sir." it repeated, in a dispassionate voice. "Rest. For at least eight hours. Ten if possible."
For all the bluster, ECHO merely smacked the surface of his console again, letting out his anger by screaming.
Lacking fragile eardrums, the bot was unaffected. Instead, it patiently waited.
Tiring himself out after a few minutes of this, he turned to the bot. "Lead the way…" he muttered.
The automaton turned, exiting the doors with ECHO on its heels.
Why did I make this thing so annoying? He wondered idly as he studied the small machine. He must have been intoxicated that day. ECHO did enjoy the occasional drink, but hadn't let loose in a long time. Work was time and time was money. He couldn't afford to take a day off. Though if the thin man was honest with himself, he could more than afford to take time away from his work.
The newest project had consumed his attention. How could it not? For a long time, he'd worked in the shadow of Otto Octavius. He had tried to get into the man's class back when Otto taught back then, only to be turned away for the eccentricities he had in mannerisms.
It wasn't his fault that he hadn't been properly socialized as a child. Instead, fearing for his health, his mother had kept him locked up in the house.
All of the windows in his childhood home had been covered. He always attributed his life back in Claremore to one of the many reasons behind his successes today. If not for the desire for more,
he never would have left home. On his first venture outside the family home, the sheer brightness of the sun had nearly rendered him blind and left him with searing blisters over thirty percent of his body. He had never wanted to step outside ever again.
Obtaining medical treatment for his vision and skin conditions had aided him in finally striking out alone. His mother had told him that the world didn't know how to treat people like him, that he would be turned away - rejected. She told him that no one could ever love him like she had. As a young man, he had left home regardless… trembling and afraid of what the world was going to do to him.
Fifteen years later, he fully understood that his mother's actions and words were that of a mentally ill woman - one who did not want to let go of him. She thrived on the attention showered on her sick son.
To this day, ECHO wasn't certain that all of his health problems as a child had been natural either. After leaving home, most of them had vanished, but his stomach ailments still lingered.
ECHO frowned, a muscle jumping in his too-thin cheek as he remembered their last exchange. Even though he was so poorly treated, he had still seen to sending money home to his family. The last check he'd sent hadn't been cashed though. After a month, he was starting to get concerned.
There were moments when ECHO felt profound bouts of emotion, but this had not been one of them. Instead, he had dispatched some of his drones to seek out and 'survey' his family. He knew the reports would take another week to reach him, but he was a patient man.
Stepping into his bedroom, which was starkly spartan compared to the rest of the building, he removed the contact lenses in his eyes. Placing them in their case, he snapped it closed and reached across to a separate box. He extracted the mouth guard he slept with to prevent further damage to his teeth from grinding. Popping the thick plastic into his mouth, he climbed under the covers. He rolled his eyes, when the bot pulled the covers over him. "Hea." He spoke up, now with a heavy lisp.
The automaton turned to him.
"Set my alarm for ten hours. No argument." "Yes, sir."
"And Hea?" Locating the eye mask under his pillow, ECHO pulled it out and slid it into place on his head. "Prepare us lunch. I'm thinking of fish with coffeecakes."
"Understood." Hea replied, with a faint whirring sound. The android turned and left the room.
The Daily Bugle - Daytime
Ashley light tapped her pen on her notepad as she listened to J Jameson. The older man was still buzzing from the plans put in place for his interview. It had been a simple matter to pick which company he was going to interview with, but the sticky part was setting a solid date for the event. JJ wanted them to pull out all the stops. It wasn't lost on any of them that he was the first person, as far as they knew, who was approached for his take on the events at the Pier.
They were in yet another meeting to discuss upcoming shoots for the front of the Bugle . It was a rather boring affair, but the Ashley didn't mind. This was far more interesting than the tasks that ECHO sent her on. Thinking of her creator made her shiver. She wasn't sure why. Her creator had never done anything to harm her. Still… Something about the way ECHO looked at her made her feel uncomfortable.
He also looked far too thin this time. She supposed she would have to visit later today to make sure that he was eating properly. No matter how he made her feel, she was going to care for him. Their relationship was strange indeed, and she was becoming increasingly concerned whenever he mentioned an idea for another 'upgrade' to her systems. The upgrades were never harmful, but they all heightened her ability to experience what was around her.
ECHO needed to learn to appreciate food more.
Not that she had a problem in that regard. She smothered a smirk as the meeting went on. Her usual order of coffee and a raspberry filled donut was coming in soon. It was a silly request, really. She didn't have a need to eat, but she had a want to. The different flavors of human foods continued to surprise her. Her body had been adapted to be able to draw energy from the food that she ate. Or… She could plug herself up when at home. To be honest, the gynoid preferred to eat. It felt less… invasive.
Maybe she was getting too used to human-like activities - to the extent that what she was truly able to do - seemed so foreign to her now. It wasn't really her fault, though. ECHO's latest updates had enhanced her taste buds and food tasted so good . Still, she was limited by her design. During her scheduled lunch hour, she always returned home to empty her food storage tank and check her energy levels.
Much time and care went into her own personal maintenance. If she wasn't careful, she could easily break down. That was the last thing ECHO wanted. Truly, it was the last thing she wanted either. She really enjoyed her life, as artificial as it was.
She might even joy working with Jameson, no matter his periodically mercurial moods. She still wasn't sure what to make of her
secondary employer. He put on such a display when with his employees, but as his personal assistant, Ashley was around him when no one else was. At the end of the day, Jameson was a mere man. The pressure to stay on top had powered him forward for so long, but there were small indicators that he was running out of steam.
A missing employee was also proving to be an issue. Peter Parker should have resurfaced when Spider-Man had, yet he was still absent. From what she had gleamed, studying older issues of the Bugle, Peter Parker was always present whenever Spider-Man was. He should have been the one to provide the last set of photographs for the newspaper.
Ashley had a running theory on the story between the two, but hesitated. She had to be wrong about Peter Parker and Spider-Man
being the same person. Right?
Evening
Capping her pen, Ashley sighed heavily. She'd needed to work late, completing editorial work for the upcoming headline article. One of her coworkers, Mitch, had offered to take her out to dinner. She'd swiftly rejected it with a smile. Ashely didn't know much about their newest photographer, only that he was persistent. Her lessons in how to deal with humans only extended so far. It was late, and she still needed to get back to check on ECHO. It was likely he wouldn't be pleased with her abrupt visit, but that was his own fault.
Time passed quickly while she worked at her desk. Though she was relieved when Mitch left her alone, she was hyperaware of his continued attention. Her lips pursed in displeasure. She didn't like it when ECHO looked at her the same way, but she understood her creator. Having this human showing her the same attention was unnerving. She was unable to tell what his intent was.
Pulling out her phone for a moment, she placed an order at an eatery near her apartment. Her plan was simple: show up to see ECHO with a bucket of fried chicken and a large container of sour cream for dipping. For a moment, her frown smoothed out. Her creator had very unusual but simple tastes. Once she was sure that the order was secured, she stood up from her desk, slinging her purse across her chest. She walked in the direction of her bike. Today, it was a gorgeous shade of red. There were micro projectors at work to mask its true appearance, and she enjoyed being able to change its look when she wanted.
Making sure the purse was secured fully, she placed her key in the ignition and picked up her helmet. She smoothly climbed into the seat, her short skirt inching up higher from the action.
A low, slow whistle reached her ears. Pausing, she looked around. Spotting the source of the sound, her eyes narrowed. Mitch. What did he want?
"Wow. I never knew you rode, Ash."
The gynoid chafed under the attention. She did not know why this man preferred to use a shortened form of her name.
"You look gorgeous on that thing." Stepping closer, Mitch actually trailed his hand over the sleek curves of the bike itself.
Ashley saw the exact moment that he moved to touch her thigh.
"Keep your hand away from." Then, she struck, giving him not time to respond.
In the split second it took for Mitch to register her words, the gynoid had already straightened up on her seat and was lifting her left arm.
The only thing Mitch saw before she backhanded him was a strange green glow around her eyes. The force of the blow resulted in a loud crack as that section of his jaw was broken.
Intense pain and the sudden shock rendered him unconscious.
Staring at Mitch as he lay on the ground at a twisted angle, Ashley didn't bother to even see if he was alive. Calmly, she pulled her helmet on and turned on the ignition. Kicking the throttle, she sped out of the parking lot… leaving her coworker where he lay.
ECHO was going to eat tonight, if she had anything to say about it. Kingsley Institute - Daytime
Roderick had been hunched over at his desk hard at work. Pausing, he leaned back in his chair, stretching and yawned widely.
"I was unaware that our conversation was boring, Mister Kingsley." Said the person on the other end of the video conference. Roderick's action hadn't gone unnoticed.
Instead of responding, Roderick shook his head. He grabbed the steel mug that sat on his desk next to his computer and gestured for the other man to continue.
Grinning too widely, the pale skinned man on the screen lifted a tablet and turned it to face the computer screen. "As you can see, the distinction with these clothes is that the user can adjust the color at any time. It's here, in the weave of the material." He used a stylus to point to one section and zoomed in. "I'm still working on the polymer, which would make the material completely resistant to water."
Roderick was silent, studying what he could see of the design. It was a good idea, although probably one of the strangest concepts he'd ever heard of.
"You said the clothing could keep itself clean as well." Roderick ran his fingers through his hair. He was still trying to figure out what to do with Otto's tools in the basement. Without the scientist there, he had no way of figuring out what the half-finished projects were. Bringing anyone else in posed a serious risk, one that he was unwilling to
take. So he had everything packed up in boxes in the lab and no idea what to do with it all.
"Oh… yes of course! The fabric won't have permanent stains ever." Roderick swallowed down more of his coffee.
"It's simply revolutionary! No stains, adjustable colors and water resistance! What more could a modeling company or better yet, a clothing designer such as yourself ask for? It's very easy to handle and is light as a feather."
"I will need some time to think about this. You understand, Mister Berry?"
The man on the other side of the screen nodded, his smile still in place.
"I will be in touch." Not waiting for a response, Roderick cut the connection. He pushed back from his desk and stood up to stretch. He needed more information before he created a working relationship with Gunner Berry. He didn't know much about the man, except for the fact that he was an Okie by birth. The man was also ridiculously tall and thin. "I should ask for a sample of that material…" He mumbled, strolling over to the massive windows behind his desk.
From up here, he had a bird's eye view of the city below. He'd built his empire with his own bare hands mostly and a lot of determination. Criminal activity had also helped contribute to his wealth, and he had borrowed designs from others without paying in the past. He didn't easily make deals, especially not with those he didn't know well. Still… the offer had seemed to tempting.
How do you even price something like that? The price on the market would be high. Part of what kept clothing affordable for some was that the items were ultimately limited by both the materials and dye that went into their creation. The more elaborate designs under the big brands cost into the thousands. Smaller, less known companies couldn't take the risk that buyers wouldn't want to buy.
Not that Roderick was going to have the price too high if he could even find a way to showcase the new clothing. Just how did one figure out a way to charge for color changing clothing? What makes it even able to do that? He suspected there was more going on with Mister Berry.
He would have to handle that man carefully, but if his suspicions were proven false and he acted too rashly, he could miss out on millions in revenue. He clasped his hands behind his back, deep in thought as he looked down at the city.
Afternoon - Across Town
"Turn this way," the man behind the camera spoke to the model before him. "A little further forward," He requested, adjusting his camera. He took several snaps, two of them with the flash on. Adjusting his zoom, he stepped from behind the camera for a moment. "Now, I want a completely different expression for this one."
His model raised a brow in question. Maybe it was a bad idea to agree to this contract, but it was ironclad. Before the ink was even dry, she found herself shuffled over here - by limousine, no less. Then, she was right into makeup, hair and wardrobe: a white negligee with translucent sleeves and a matching silken cloak clasped around her throat. She didn't think the gig was that bad until they fit her with a set of realistic antlers and put a long, red rose in her left hand.
"You are angry and want to exert your position as the head of the pack, yes?" He waved just past her and two other models came in. "Just go, like this… Roar, right?" He walked over and instructed her to elevate her arm, with the hand extended as if she was reaching towards the viewer on the end of the camera. "Reach a little further."
As he spoke, he jogged back behind the camera.
The camera went off, unbidden with her blank expression before she was told to 'roar'.
It took several minutes before the photographer seemed satisfied with the shoot.
Two more sets and additional photos, all including complete wardrobe and make-up changes… then time was called for lunch. Finally, free of most of the make-up save bluish paint on her face, the young model settled herself down to the catered lunch brought in for all of them. Recognizing one of the two women from her first shoot, the model extended her hand in greeting. "Nice to meet you," she said with a smile.
"Same." The young brunette was already eating. "Today's been pretty busy." Despite being in plain clothes for the time being, she was sweating.
"That's true." The model laughed faintly. "What's your name?"
"Phoebe Morales. You? You're our guest today, aren't you?" Phoebe looked around their table, trying to find someone. "I don't see Jody today."
The model nodded in reply.
"Yes. MJ Watson. My agent called… It was a last-minute thing." Good enough . She thought. Her gaze returned to her plate. She couldn't refuse work indefinitely and the time passed a lot faster too. She liked the new photographer. He was different than the other men she'd had to work with. For one, he wasn't a lecher. Also, he'd promised her plenty of local projects, so she wouldn't need to travel.
"Having you here is pretty wild. Strange, but wild."
Without explaining what that meant, Phoebe resumed eating in silence.
Not wanting to question anything, Mary Jane also returned to her lunch.
Before she was able to head home, there were more outfits, more make-up and even more pictures to take. She was curious to see what the final product would look like.
Alchemax
Frustrated. If there was a word that Lizzy Allen could use to describe her mood today… that one would fit best. "Norman, you can sit down now."
The older man was pacing back and forth in her office, as if he wanted to start climbing the walls.
"Allowing yourself to become stressed from this is bad for your health. You do want to see your grandson grow up, don't you?"
That gave Norman pause.
"Of course, I do!" Finally seating himself, he focused on Lizzy. "We're no closer to figuring out where all of those parts went. Whoever took them must have gone underground…" he muttered to himself,
leaning forward in his seat and running his fingers through his hair repeatedly. "Or somewhere. They can't just disappear like nothing." Norman shook his head. "But how could they take everything in one night? Why are they so quiet?" His voice softened. "No… that's not it at all."
Slowly, so as to not startle Norman, Lizzy quietly pulled open a drawer in her desk and extracted a needle. She slipped it into her hand and walked around Norman as he continued to have a conversation with himself. Not liking what she was going to have to do, she jammed the needle into his right shoulder, pushing the plunger all the way down.
Yelling in alarm, Norman looked to his shoulder and ripped the needle out. "What did you do?!" He yelled, his anger spiking at her actions. Angrily, he tossed the needle aside and approached her.
Instead of responding, Lizzy stepped away from Norman.
He was beginning to breathe heavily, and as he reached out to grab her, his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed on the plush carpet in the room.
Realizing she was holding her breath, one of her hands splayed across her chest, she exhaled sharply. Clearing her throat after a moment and noticing that he wasn't getting up anytime soon, she walked over to her phone, and she buzzed her secretary. "Please send up some security personnel. My guest… Requires a place to rest." She was going to have to explain why he was sprawled out on her carpet. Checking him quickly for injuries and relieved to find none, she waited until security could come to set him up on the couch. Sleep was what the man needed.
What Mister Negative had stated during their last meeting was close to the truth. Her company had gained the rights to the Goblin Serum after the merger with Oscorp. Since then, a handful of chemical analysts under her employ worked tirelessly to not only intensify the strength of the formula, but to eliminate the negative side effects of it. Norman jumped at the chance to no longer be considered "normal" and agreed to be the first human subject.
From what she could see, the neurological effects were still there. She had hoped that the compound causing psychosis would have been removed from the batch. Lizzy had yet to check up on the other 'test' subjects. They had chosen four men for the first round, and would use women for the second.
She was almost afraid to proceed after this 'hiccup' with Norman. The last thing she needed was another person dealing with psychological problems. Observing Norman as the guards came in and lifted him up to settle on the couch, she frowned. Norman suffered for years with hallucinations because of the Goblin Serum. Why would he voluntarily subject himself to taking it again unless there was some reward?
From what she could understand in the notes from the chemists, the formula was stronger… Which meant theoretically, Norman might have increased and prolonged periods of psychosis.
"Ma'am?" One of the guards asked after they safely settled Norman on the couch.
"That's all. If I have any problems, I'll be in touch." Lizzy knew she was taking a risk. Keeping Norman anywhere near her right now was risky. There was no way to predict how he would act upon waking. Leaning back in her chair, Lizzy thought carefully for a moment and picked up the phone at her desk. It was time to make some calls.
Undisclosed Location
In stark contrast to the blueprints and reports that normally were displayed on the side monitors in ECHO's lab, a baseball game was playing.
"Hey, Hea!" ECHO called, leaning back in his seat, a large bowl of fried chicken balanced in his lap.
The small automaton stepped into his lab.
"Come, come!" He gestured to the bot. "Sit and watch the game with me."
Hea turned around, joints squealing faintly. It paused, wondering if anyone else was being addressed as well. Finding no one, Hea walked over to ECHO.
"Sir?" The bot asked, confused. It was rare that ECHO would ever do this. The man had just been screaming about a deadline a few days ago and was throwing a tantrum. Now, he was relaxing with a bowl of… "What are you eating?"
ECHO lifted a fried drumstick in the air and waved it around. "It's food, Hea. Come, sit and watch the game with me."
The automaton took another step and stayed in place. Now that was closer, it could see a white tub sitting on the floor next to ECHO's chair. The bot had never watched a 'game' before and was unsure how to respond.
"Unable to compute." Hea responded, compressing its small body further so it seemed shorter.
In response, ECHO rolled his eyes.
The bot looked at the monitor, but it was obvious that it neither understood nor cared to understand.
The door opened behind both of them and Ashley stepped in. She hesitated when Hea turned towards her.
ECHO, this time, did not acknowledge her presence at all.
Soundlessly, she pulled over another chair and sat down, to watch the game.
The tall man offered her the option to pick some of the food from the bucket.
She shook her head and gently pushed it back to him.
Shrugging, ECHO tucked into his food, dunking bits of the fried chicken into the tub of sour cream. He was a very careless and sloppy eater, evident by the mixture of fried chicken crumbs and sour cream smeared on his shirt.
Ashley and Hea shared a look. Both of the machines in the room expected the game to be done soon. When another hour rolled past though, Ashley pantomimed stretching and sighed loudly. "Well," she started. "It's time for me to head back to the apartment. It's past my bedtime."
So engrossed in both the meal and game, ECHO waved her off idly. "Have a good night, Ashley. Get plenty of rest."
Smirking and not wanting to correct him, Ashley ducked out of the room and hurried to her motorcycle. It was time to get to bed, which for her meant she was going to charge overnight. Her return trip was pretty peaceful. Setting her bike up in the garage, she headed up the stairwell to her fourth-floor apartment, not that stairs ever bothered her. After entering her apartment, she locked the door and stood in the main entrance for a few minutes.
It was good to see her creator actually eating, though he was so messy. Not that it mattered much to her, but she was still flicking crumbs off her clothing - much to her consternation. Removing the soiled clothes, she shook it a little more, watching in dismay as crumbs appeared out of everywhere. So nasty… She frowned. It was late, according to the clock on the wall behind her couch. Close to three in the morning. Far too early in the morning to vacuum her floor.
Nose twitching at the mess on the floor, she stepped around it and walked right towards her bedroom. The walls in the apartment were eggshell white, but covered with a number of framed pictures. Some of the pictures were in truth from different assignments. She was supposed to have a 'realistic' appearance to her apartment, so it would make sense for her to have a bunch of pictures of her on trips in different places. One of them was her flashing the 'peace sign' while on a beach and fresh out of the water.
There was only one problem with the picture. She remembered that they had been nowhere near any sand. Instead, the background was a realistic imitation of the true thing. She had been soaked though, having had a bucket of water poured on her before the snap was taken. She had a few paintings posted up on the walls too. These were pieces she picked out on her own to enhance the dwelling's look. The different objects, from the table to the hodgepodge of multicolored chairs, all seemed to clash just a bit, but not too obviously.
Her bedroom on the other hand, was a pale blue color. She'd attached glow in the dark stars to the ceiling, wanting to have something nice to view at night time. They were waiting for her and she restrained a smile before walking past her bed and stepping into the closet. Closing the doors, she easily found her power plug - sticking out of a harness that stuck two feet from the wall.
Setting an alarm for herself, she plugged herself in, sagging against the outstretched arms of the harness as her higher 'brain' functions shut down for the time being.
When she slept, she never dreamed. From what she'd heard of them, she would always consider this an advantage.
The Daily Bugle - Present Day
Jameson wasn't happy. Unfortunately, when he was upset everyone else would suffer with him. He was already under so much pressure, with his interview coming up that Thursday, and one of his brightest new photographers lay in the hospital on life support. All the jobs that Mitch was scheduled for were suddenly left open without any of The Bugle's photographers free enough to take them. Now JJ was trying to select someone to fit into Mitch's shoes. What happened to him ? The question continued to run laps in his head.
Mitch was found in the parking lot, just outside the reach of the security cameras. What they later found out was that Mitch had laid in his own growing puddle of saliva and blood until nearly five in the morning. The daytime janitor found him and called for an ambulance. Thankfully, Mitch had still been alive, but unfortunately, he'd soon gone into respiratory arrest while enroute to the hospital.
CPR had saved his life, but now he was connected to a ventilator so that he could breathe. He was due a scan soon to check for indicators of brain damage. From what Jameson had learned from the man's family, things were not looking good. The only person who seemed unfazed by Jameson's fiery moods was his assistant, Ashley. Studying the young woman as she diligently took notes, JJ had an idea. After all, Ashley had taken such fantastic shots of the jail right after Doc Ock had escaped.
"Miss Gardiner,"
At hearing her name, Ashely looked up.
"The camera you received for joining us? Take it. I need someone with experience to take over Mitch's workload until he's back."
Unconcerned, Ashley nodded quietly. Truth be told, she was happy to do something other than sit in JJ's office all day helping him through various piles of paperwork. Alternately, she sat at her own desk all day handling the mail that came in. She was really an expert shot behind the camera, but when joining the Bugle had spoken of only a budding interest in taking pictures.
Nary a thought of hers went to Mitch. She was just relieved that she didn't have to deal with his face anymore.
"Yes, sir," she said.
Jameson nodded. He could always depend on her to take to her projects without a flicker of complaint.
"Now, on to another matter of business…" Here, he paused… waiting until he had all eyes on him. "We need to set time to go and -
Before he could finish his thought, his phone rang. "Ah, Miss Gardiner, could you check on that?"
Nodding, she crossed the boardroom to grab the handset and stepped into a separate corner, where she could answer the call privately.
"Hello? You've reached the Bugle." Confusion flit across her features first and she fell silent.
Minutes ticked by without her saying anything. She was aware that Jameson was able to see her actions - moved further from his line of sight.
"Are you certain?" she asked softly, glancing down. As she turned back toward her boss, she noted his attention out the corner of her
eye. She tried to school her features. Jameson, froze at the expression on her face.
Ashley nodded faintly, trying to keep her countenance blank, though her brows were still pinched together in concern. "One moment." Cupping a hand over the mouth piece, she walked over to her boss. "It's for you, sir."
"Thank you, Miss Gardiner."
As he took over the phone call, Ashley returned to her seat.
"Jameson here." He paused a moment. He frowned. "Yes… That is him. What are you trying to tell me?" His mouth dropped open, and he fell quiet for quite some time. When he did speak again, his voice sounded rough. "No. Yes. Yes of course. I understand. Thank you for informing us. Let the family know… We offer our sincerest condolences…" As he finally disconnected the call, he leaned forward, bracing his hands on the table.
"Mister Jameson?" One of his employees asked.
"He… He's dead," JJ lifted his head then, distress visible on his features. "That was the hospital. The family wanted us to know that Mitch's injuries were too severe. Completely braindead. They just disconnected him this morning." His head bowed, as scenarios ran rampant through his mind. The Bugle was going to be besieged by police and homicide detectives soon.
His proud shoulders sagged.
To Be Continued…
Author's Note: I'm late. I know. I'm sorry.
I wanted to give a big shout-out to roipecheur for Mega Beta-ing this chapter for me. I'm so sorry that I had so many errors - everywhere! Thanks for sticking through this with me! I hope you all enjoyed! Feel free to let me know what you think. I love constructive criticism! ~ J. Lyst
Additional Note: This is an updated and revised version of the original chapter. The date for this revision is June 13, 2022. I feel like I'm near the home stretch, even though I have chapters 5-9 to
heavily revise. The later chapters (10-13) are relatively simple to edit again, as they are newer.
How many more chapters to go? You'll have to stick around to find out!
Additional Note To The Prior Notes: Yikes… I still had edits in here to do. The date for this revision is December 10, 2023.
~J. Lyst