Honestly speaking, what to call this world's version of the Green Goblin was the last thing on my mind. My brain was preoccupied with a much more pressing problem. Her name was Norma Osborn. The difficulty with this particular problem was that, at the moment, it had no definitive solution. At least, none that was obvious. Only temporary measures.
Having become a psychopath, which she undeniably was right now, Norma had transformed into a constant source of danger, even greater than Vilma Fisk, whose attention toward me was, if I'd assessed the situation correctly, quite superficial. So, the Green Goblin, née Norma Osborn. I remembered how stubbornly persistent this personality could be in its quest to destroy its enemies. In the past, I had tried several times to give Norman a chance to return to a normal life. I thought that memory loss would help rehabilitate the villain... I was a naive fool. Every single time, my indecision eventually backfired. In the end, it was because of him that Gwen died.
I wouldn't let that happen again. Yes, Norma Osborn didn't choose to become a psychopath. She absolutely deserved a chance to reclaim her life. But if I couldn't destroy the Green Goblin without killing Norma... I couldn't just leave things to chance. The Goblin already harbored a grudge against Spider-Woman, and she knew me. She knew I was connected to the heroine who'd beaten her. Circumstances, unfortunately, didn't favor inaction. The last thing I needed was to become a hostage in a fight between them.
But what could I do? Curing her right now wasn't possible. The OZ serum had a far more unpredictable, chaotic effect compared to the Lizard formula, and, quite naturally, offered no possibility of returning to the initial state. So, I'd have to fix what had already happened. And to reverse the changes in Norma Osborn's brain, I'd first need to fully understand those changes. Even then, the hope for a positive result was slim. Even with the resources that Oscorp, unknowingly, was investing in the development of my enterprise.
It was actually a funny situation. Thanks to my webbing and Deadpool's teleporting device, we'd managed to infiltrate the Osborn estate from the roof of the neighboring building. Of course, it wasn't as easy as it used to be, back when I could swing through an open window without slowing down on my web and then stick to the ceiling without a sound. Still, it wasn't impossible. It just took a bit longer.
Just like with the warning about the attack, I'd gambled that Norma would organize her secret lair in the same place as her counterpart from my world, and I hadn't been wrong. Though, in one regard, Norma Osborn had been more cautious than Norman. While her former colleagues thought they'd outmaneuvered the founder and head of the corporation, forcing her to resign, Norma Osborn, in reality, still had near-total control over Oscorp's accounts, thanks to secret protocols and backdoors that no one but her knew about. Which meant she'd committed mass murder without even an extreme necessity. Nothing stopped Norma from stripping the traitors of all their money and leaving them with crushing debt... it turned out, she just wanted to save Oscorp. In a way, that was almost admirable.
So, the secret lair. This place, hidden in the very heart of the estate, perfectly reflected its creator's essence, if you knew where to look. Just as Norma's office, with its strict, harmonious order, the smell of mahogany, and an emphatically professional atmosphere, spoke of its owner's composure, severity, and a certain penchant for luxury, the lair screamed of the Green Goblin's aggression, paranoia, and uncompromising nature. Racks of pumpkin-shaped grenades, spare armor parts, bladed and firearm weapons, ammunition for the rocket launchers and machine guns hidden in the glider, and fuel cells for it. She seemed ready to declare war on the entire world. Of course, the Green Goblin had never been stingy with her arsenal, not caring in the slightest about collateral damage and casualties.
"Lousy taste," Deadpool clicked her tongue, tossing a garish orange, ribbed grenade in her hand. "Who's actually scared of a pumpkin?"
Well, she certainly wasn't afraid of anything. Vanda played with the bomb like a tennis ball, tossing the dangerous weapon, capable of ending a human life in an instant, say, mine, between her hands.
"You can repaint it red when we take it for ourselves," I said, not letting on that the mercenary's actions were getting on my nerves. "We'll add her stash to your arsenal."
"You sure know how to please a girl," Vanda replied coquettishly, pressing the grenade to her heart like a precious romantic gift. Then she instantly switched back to business mode. "But how are we hauling all this loot? There's only two of us."
An obvious jab at Bobbi, who'd decided to go off hero-ing. And why did it bother her so much? Still, I had a little more good news for her.
"Same way it got here," I pressed a hidden panel inside the secret room. "This tunnel leads to a pretty dark alley, not visible from the street. Bobbi will bring a car there soon."
"And what about Osborn?" Vanda perked up, testing the sharpness of some throwing sickles that had replaced the bomb in her hand. "You're not just going to leave things as they are, are you?"
"There are two options at the moment. First, we can simply leave her here, warning her that we have irrefutable evidence that Norma Osborn is the one who carried out the attack on the festival. We'll threaten that any suspicious activity on her part will result in those files being sent to every relevant authority, from the DA's office to the personal inbox of the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D."
"That's it?" Deadpool drew her pistol, pointing at the wall as if she wanted to shoot Norma right through it. "Then I'd rather just off her now."
I stopped her, placing my hand on the gun barrel.
"This is just to buy time and prepare better. I have a sample of what she injected herself with, and access to Oscorp's money. I'll find a more reliable method of control."
"And how long will that take?" Vanda pondered my suggestion.
"A couple of days," I shrugged.
"Then she'll have to take a two-day vacation, spent in my company," I could swear she was grinning under that mask.
"That's exactly what I meant by the second option," I clarified.
"Should've started with that," she grumbled, then continued in a playful tone. "And you put your hand on my gun... you shouldn't do that unless you're ready to take responsibility for the consequences. You see, it's a very intimate thing," she finished with a sultry sigh.
It took half an hour to haul out all the goods, and in the end, Bobbi, using her heroic talents, made the biggest contribution. Thus, we became not only kidnappers (we'd naturally settled on kidnapping Norma) but also robbers. Doakes, if she ever found out, would be thrilled.
Before leaving, I had to scrub all traces of our and Vanda's presence and send a fake message from Norma's phone to her son. In an extremely dry manner, exactly how I assumed Norma communicated with her son, I informed Harry that Osborn senior was leaving for a couple of days to handle some work-related issues that had come up. I didn't want Harry or any of the staff to accidentally discover that Norma Osborn had been kidnapped. It wouldn't do, not after I'd so carefully disguised the transfer of Oscorp funds to our "firm's" accounts.
Upon arriving at the lab, I found several messages on my phone, which I'd prudently left here turned off. Besides the routine messages from Mary Jane, who was desperately bored under house arrest, there were a couple of notes from Gwen, or rather, from Spider-Woman.
"Hi. I have no idea how you knew, but thanks."
Obviously, a response to the warning about the planned attack on Norma's former advisors.
"Can we talk?"
"The sooner the better."
And these two, after the events at the festival. I turned to Bobbi, who was moving a crate of trophy grenades with evident caution.
"Did something happen in that fight that I don't know about?" I asked.
"Mmm?" She looked up from her task. "What do you mean?"
"Spider-Woman," I clarified. "Did something happen to her?"
"Not really, no," Bobbi replied absently. "Though, she seemed to take it all pretty hard. You know, all that blood, the wounded. Plus, a few people died from the blast on the balcony."
Damn, how did I not think of that immediately? Gwen hadn't yet had to witness the aftermath of such battles. I remembered myself when I'd just started my superhero career. I knew what Gwen was going through right now.
"Can you finish up here without me?" I asked, my tone apologetic.
"In such a hurry to give her your vaccine?" Vanda asked with a playful note in her voice.
I left that joke unanswered, though a couple of sharp retorts about developing a vaccine for the mercenary herself were right on the tip of my tongue.
"I don't think I need to remind you that Osborn is extremely dangerous, and she can't be left unattended. Just keep in mind, she's much stronger than a normal person because of the serum she injected herself with."
"Strength doesn't do much good when you've got a couple of extra holes in your forehead," Deadpool grinned.
"Try not to kill or maim her. She's tied up! Oh, and one more thing: I've already ordered the equipment and materials we need. Some of it will be delivered to this address today," I handed Wilson a piece of paper with an address.
"More grunt work," the mercenary frowned. "Should've read the contract terms more carefully."
* * *
A short phone trill jolted Gwen out of her thoughts. She found herself sitting on the parapet of a high-rise building. She couldn't even remember how she'd gotten there. Right beneath her feet, the wall plunged into an abyss. There were no tours up here, and the breathtaking view from this insane height was seen only by her and the indifferent gargoyle statues. Gwen caught herself thinking that she envied their impassivity. Whatever happened below, it didn't disturb the stone monsters' peace. Even if a war broke out tomorrow and human weapons razed the entire city, they'd remain just as calm until their very death.
Gwen wanted to call Peter, but stopped when she saw the bloodstains on her hands again... they could easily be washed off, but for some reason, she still hadn't done it. She suddenly realized she didn't know what she wanted to say to Parker. Why had she even texted him and asked to meet? Only because there was no one else to talk to? Spider-Woman had no friends with whom she could discuss what had happened.
The girl stepped into the abyss, plunging into a free fall. The sensation of flight helped Gwen break free from the melancholic stupor. Shooting out a web, she took control of the fall and soared toward her home. Alas, even the thrill of swinging on her web couldn't cure her of her mental anguish.
She knew she was risking exposure, but she still didn't bother to change into her regular clothes, currently resting in the backpack on her back. She just zipped through the open window of her room. For some reason, she absolutely didn't care, even if someone saw her.
Without taking off her costume, since her mom wouldn't be back until late anyway, Gwen went into the living room and turned on the TV. The news crews had worked fast, already running a report on what had happened at Oscorp.
A model-quality anchorwoman was breathlessly recounting her version of events:
"...an attack, incredible in its brutality! Four dead, dozens wounded, three in critical condition. Eyewitnesses report a terrorist on a flying device who fired on the balcony of the Oscorp building with a grenade launcher. According to initial reports, all of the deceased were members of the company's board of directors. It is also known that both Spider-Woman and the creature that recently caused a massacre on the city streets participated in the rampage." The screen cut to a recording clearly showing Spider-Woman attacking the perpetrator. "Whether they were accomplices of the attackers is under investigation."
Annoyed, the girl shut off the TV.
"What investigation?" Gwen hissed. "Have they all gone blind?"
Of course, this kind of reaction from the press and the police was entirely predictable, but it stung no less. She'd been the public's darling when she performed on the talent show and entertained viewers, but as soon as she did something truly significant, many had turned on her.
Significant, was it?
Four people dead. She'd known it was going to happen. She'd even known who the target was, and she still couldn't stop it. Those people could have been alive if she'd been faster.
And now, she might even get blamed for everything! Gwen was torn by contradictions. On one hand, she wanted to prevent something like this from happening again. The perpetrator was still at large. On the other hand, risking her life and receiving accusations from the police in return... Her mother had been trying for days to figure out who was behind the Spider-Woman mask. This was a shock to Gwen. Why was Jane Stacy, reputedly one of the most reasonable women in the police department, so fixated on this case? Where did this antipathy toward Spider-Woman come from? Their relationship wasn't exactly warm to begin with, but now it was a complete disaster. It was hard to smile when your own mother was dragging you through the mud, and you couldn't even properly defend yourself.
Gwen suddenly felt how utterly exhausted she was after these past few days, during which her senses had given her no rest. Returning to her room, the girl peeled off her costume. The white spandex, though water-repellent, still showed the bloodstains clearly. Her mask was soiled, as if all the filth her mother and the newspaper headlines had poured on her had suddenly become material. Gwen tossed the costume into the closet without even folding it properly and collapsed onto the bed, exhausted. She didn't even have the energy to go wash up.
Then her phone rang. A familiar name lit up the screen. Right, she had texted him. But she didn't want to answer. Talking to him... it had been a mistake to send that message. A chill of fear coiled in her gut. Four people were dead. What if he blamed her for it, like the police and the press had? After all, he had warned her...
And yet, she answered. She couldn't not.
"How's it going, Spider-Girl?" Parker's cheerful voice came through the moment Gwen picked up. "Saw you on TV. You did great."
Gwen was afraid to move. For a dozen seconds, she forgot she even needed to breathe. Was this a joke? Of all people, he was the one who had a right to be angry at her. Peter had warned her about the attack, but she hadn't been able to use the information she'd been given...
And what was with that ridiculous nickname, Spider-Girl? Gwen wanted to protest, but she felt an unbidden smile creeping onto her face.
"Thanks... for warning me," Gwen remembered she'd wanted to ask Peter how he'd gotten his information, but decided to hold off on that. "And for everything..."
What did she mean to say? For believing in me? For your support? For not doubting me for a second? Gwen didn't even know herself.
"...but I screwed up. I couldn't save those people, and I didn't catch the perpetrator either. Who knows what she'll do now, what she'll pull next?"
"Hey, Venom told me everything! It was you who drove off the attacker and then saved the wounded. You did everything right." Venom told him? So he hadn't just called her for help; they'd met after it was over. Were they connected somehow? "And don't worry about the Green Goblin escaping. Actually..."
He hesitated for a moment, as if weighing whether to speak, but quickly made up his mind.
"I'm dealing with that problem right now."
"What?" Gwen gasped, forgetting her recent worries. "What do you mean, dealing with it? Wait, you're going to try to catch her yourself? She'll kill you!"
"Whoa, easy. Everything's under control! We already have her, and I'm trying to figure out what's wrong with her..."
"We?" Gwen asked, shocked. "Who's we?"
"Alright, if you want to know, come to the address I'll send you tomorrow... Besides, you're all already acquainted. Now, pull yourself together, okay? Don't get all mopey, Spider-Girl!"
"Hey, don't call me that!" Gwen shouted, but only heard a short laugh in response before Parker hung up. "What an idiot."
She tossed the phone aside, but the gesture lacked the previous despair. It was just mild irritation, or maybe even... she could barely find the words to describe her state right now.
Then her phone buzzed with a message containing an address and a small note: "Come after lunch tomorrow. We'll show you everything and explain."
"Just like that..." Gwen whispered.
Her gaze fell on the closet where her crumpled costume lay. She pondered for a couple more seconds, then abruptly jumped out of bed and pulled her stained heroine's outfit out of the dresser.
"While Mom's not home, I can use the washing machine without a problem. I can grab a shower while the costume washes," the girl decided and, whistling the tune of their new song, left her room. She set the washer on the fastest cycle, since the spandex fabric cleaned up pretty easily, and hopped into the shower.
Half an hour later, after washing off the grime and putting her cleaned costume away in the closet, Gwen collapsed back onto the bed. She was practically falling asleep on her feet, but this time her exhaustion had a different character. Instead of a sickening weariness, she felt a pleasant languor in her body, like after a training session under her mother's supervision. She still felt responsible for what had happened, but the burden on her shoulders had become a little lighter. When Gwen finally drifted off, a faint smile lingered on her lips.