Firestarter!

"I don't know what amazes me more," Kitty Pryde told Gwen Stacy as she returned to the apartment they shared late in the afternoon, "your amazingly strong work ethic, or your amazingly bad taste in literature," she smirked, raising an eyebrow at the Twilight book Gwen was reading. Gwen had spent almost the entire day catching up on her schoolwork and her lines in A Streetcar Named Desire. She remained seated in the same place, surrounded by the same mass of books, that Kitty had left her in when she'd gone out to run some errands earlier that day, the only difference being the Stephanie Meyer novel she was reading while taking a break.

"Har har," Gwen said sarcastically without looking up. "This from the girl who has the amazingly bad taste in music. After all, I'm not the one with all the Britney Spears albums," she smirked right back at Kitty, raising her eyes from her novel.

"What can I say?" Kitty shrugged. "I was a stupid little kid. Anyway, how's it going?"

"Well, my head hasn't exploded, so that's a plus," Gwen chuckled. "But I got enough done for today. How's Ben doing?"

"Still a little shaken up from the robbery done by that…what was the guy's name?"

"Jack O' Lantern," Gwen frowned. As Spider-Woman, she'd managed to drive Jack O' Lantern away, but not before the pumpkin-headed maniac had managed to kill several people and seriously injure many more.

"Yeah," Kitty nodded. "He'll be alright though. He was more worried about you," she finished with a wry grin, causing Gwen to blush in embarrassment.

Gwen only smiled and went back to her book, although in her mind she was juggling what she was going to say to Ben the next time he asked her out…and what she was going to say to Randy Robertson the next time he asked her out.

SPIDER-WOMAN #19

"FIRESTARTER"

George Stacy scowled at the doorman as he waited for the lackey to let him into the South Side Gentleman's Club. It had been a very long day, and George was eagerly looking forward to a good hard scotch on the rocks.

"I'm sorry Mr. Stacy, but you're no longer welcome at the club," the doorman replied with an insolent smirk. The doorman had long resented George's sneering, demeaning treatment of him and the rest of the club staff, and he relished the chance of getting even.

"What the fuck do you mean, I'm not welcome?" George shouted, looking as if he was about to pop a blood vessel. "All I have to do is blink, and your ass is fired! Now let me in!"

"Really now, do you have to make a scene?" George heard a mocking voice behind him. Turning around with a scowl, George noted the arrival of J. Jonah Jameson, publisher, editor-in-chief, owner and sole stockholder of the Daily Bugle and a long-standing member of the club. There was no love lost between the two men, who had hated each other for years.

"Are you fucking with me, Jameson?" George demanded, his face red with anger. "You're behind this, aren't you?"

"Whatever do you mean?" Jameson asked, raising an eyebrow. "Just because you've been expelled from the club?"

"Expelled?" George shouted again, this time attracting the attention of passerby, as the doorman continued standing nearby in silence, smirking all the while. "You know goddamn well you don't have the authority to do that, Jameson!"

"Maybe not," Jameson replied calmly, folding his arms, "but the executive most certainly does. They don't particularly care to have an anti-mutant bigot among their membership."

"Those mutant shits were lying!" George roared at the top of his lungs, dropping his briefcase and charging at Jameson, before slamming him against the wall of the building. Ever since he had been exposed by the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants as a supporter of the anti-mutant group that called itself the Friends of Humanity, George had lost numerous clients, many of whom were afraid that doing business with him would harm their professional reputations.

"Then how come you only ever said it after people started abandoning you?" Jameson asked, easily breaking free of George's grip and gently pushing him back. "Funny how no one at the Daily Bugle recalls you making a statement after your loved ones were taken hostage…"

Seething in rage, George didn't bother to reply, simply picking up his briefcase and leaving.

This was the last fucking straw.

Every day, it's the same.

I wake up thinking about how much I hate Spider-Woman. How much I want to make her life a living hell. How much I want to make her suffer before I destroy her.

I go to sleep thinking about how much I hate Spider-Woman. How much I want to make her life a living hell. How much I want to make her suffer before I destroy her.

While I sleep, I dream about how much I hate Spider-Woman. How much I want to make her life a living hell. How much I want to make her suffer before I destroy her.

Every moment of every day, even as I put on the mask that defines my daily existence, and go about my life, surrounded by the hypocrites who hide their own true selves, I think about Spider-Woman and how she is the greatest hypocrite of them all.

Finally, I sit down at my computer and I begin to analyze the data I obtained from the tracking device I planted on her. I had prepared for encountering her, or even another superhero, after my first battle with her, and so one of my weapons contained a microscopic tracking device that I could use to determine her movements.

My computer analyzes the data of her movements over the past two days, and I'm shocked at what I see.

Is this even possible?

Can Spider-Woman be who I think she is?

This is far beyond what I expected!

This opens the door to so many exciting possibilities…

I burst out laughing.

I laugh for hours, and I just can't stop myself.

Oh, the fun I'm going to have…

Gwen couldn't believe her luck when she stopped in at the Coffee Bean and saw Randy Robertson waiting in line. Calling out to him and waving, she quickly managed to slip in behind him.

"How's it going?" she asked with a smile.

"Fine," he replied, briefly glancing over his shoulder.

"I'm doing good too," she grinned. "Look, I just wanted to apologize for breaking our date on Tuesday-I had to work that night."

"Yeah, I'll bet," he said, glancing over his shoulder again with a brief frown.

"…What's wrong?" she asked with a frown. "I'm sorry I didn't call you, but I had to get to work as soon as possible, and I really need the money-"

"Uh-huh," Randy answered, not even looking over his shoulder this time, before he became next in line to place his orders. He calmly did so and went to sit down, Gwen hurrying over to join him after she had gotten some coffee of her own.

"Randy, what's the matter?" she asked as she sat down with him, more urgently this time.

"You have a lot of fun at the Plaza Hotel on Wednesday?" he asked sarcastically, finally looking up at her.

"…What?" she asked in surprise. "I don't understand…"

"Don't tell me you forgot about how you were hanging off Ben Reilly's arm," Randy said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Gwen just stood there in shock.

"…He asked me out," she said, slightly incredulous at Randy's behavior.

"I thought we had something special going," Randy scowled at her, "but then you go and step out with Ben behind my back. Did you really think I wouldn't find out?"

"But…Randy…" Gwen shook her head, trying to understand what was going on. "I…I mean I didn't think we were…"

"So you were just leading me on," Randy spat in disgust. "I should have guessed. Felicia said you were like that in high school, too."

"I…Felicia?" Gwen asked, her voice turning frigid at the mention of Felicia Hardy's name. "What the hell did she tell you?"

"Look available, be unobtainable," Randy rolled his eyes. "Lead the guys on, make them think they're special, and then drop them when they get too close."

"Randy…I…no, I never meant to do that-" Gwen fumbled repeatedly, trying to understand what Randy was saying. "I was just really stressed out, and Ben tried to cheer me up!"

Randy just stared back at her, disdain crossing his face.

"You really hurt me, Gwen," Randy finally said after a minute of stiff silence. "I thought you really liked me. Instead, it's the same old bullshit I've always had to deal with."

"What do you mean?" Gwen asked, more gently this time. "What happened-"

The hand she tried to reach out to him was slapped away, as he got up and threw his coffee cup in the garbage.

Gwen just sat there in stunned amazement as Randy stormed out.

"So you are unaware of any circumstances that may have caused Dr. Kafka to disable the security systems?" the prosecutor asked Dr. Karla Sofen as she testified before the grand jury inquiry.

"I honestly can't say," Dr. Sofen shrugged. "Perhaps Dr. Kafka suffered from some form of stress-related illness. It's an unfortunate fact that the psychiatric profession can take just as much of a toll on its practitioners as on its victims, particularly when dealing with patients as potentially unsettling as the residents of Ravenscroft can be."

Dr. Sofen's testimony had been part of a larger investigation to determine how the massive jailbreak at the Ravenscroft Asylum for the Criminally Insane, which had unleashed an army of insane supervillains on New York City, could have occurred. Dr. Ashley Kafka, the chief psychiatrist and overall head administrator of the facility, had eventually been blamed for the disaster, as it had been determined that only she would have had the authority to disable both the alarms and the power restraints.

Dr. Kafka had been killed by Blackout during the escape, which had spared her being arraigned on criminal charges. Unfortunately, it hadn't prevented her from being publically blamed for the disaster, and mercilessly castigated in the media, in government circles, and even by her fellow psychiatrists for her actions.

"Do psychological breakdowns tend to be this dramatic?" the District Attorney asked Dr. Sofen.

"Not typically," she replied. "In fact, the signs are typically much more apparent much sooner than this. It is possible, however, that someone as knowledgeable as Dr. Kafka may have determined the best means to conceal or even repress her own illness until such time as she could no longer contain. Without the opportunity for in-depth analysis, determining the exact nature of Dr. Kafka's illness is now impossible," she explained.

I'm just a lonely boy…

Lonely and blue…

Here all alone…

With nothing to do…

The classic Paul Anka song played in the background on Ronald Hilliard's CD player as the teenager worked diligently at his computer. His parents had gone to some other high-society shindig with his cousins, leaving him at home alone.

Not that Ronald minded, particularly since it gave him more time for his computer. After a few hours of work, he'd already found several examples of what he was looking for. Clicking to download the image and then print it out, he leaned back in satisfaction.

As the image appeared on the printout, Ronald's eyes grew wider and wider as the picture was formed.

One of the unfortunate realities celebrities had been forced to confront over the years had been their objectification in one form or another. Their pictures were Photoshopped to put them in obscene situations, they were drawn in sexually explicit positions, and otherwise displayed in perverted images made by particularly obsessed "fans". Superheroes and supervillains were not immune to this disturbing phenomenon, and it was often worse for female heroes and villains alike.

Although she was not fully aware of the fact, Spider-Woman was one of the superpowered people most commonly depicted in these types of images and "art". It was entirely possible that she would have been sickened or outraged that such art in fact existed, but for Ronald Hilliard it was a wonderful sight to behold.

Holding the picture in one hand and picking up a roll of Scotch tape with the other, he dutifully attached it to the wall, along with all the others. Photographs of Spider-Woman webswinging competed for space on the walls of Ronald's room with drawings of Spider-Woman in various classic glamour girl poses, or sketches of her indulging the fetish of whichever artist had drawn it.

Smiling with pleasure at the completion of his work, Ronald yawned wearily and shut off his computer, before changing into his pajamas and cuddling down to sleep, surrounded by the images of the woman he loved.

"He certainly seems taken with her," Karen Reilly said to her brother as they chatted over lattes at the Empire State Coffee Shop. "I'm not so sure about her, myself."

"Why's that?" Steven Mark Levins, Karen's brother and uncle to Kitty Pryde and Ben Reilly, asked in surprise.

"She just seems so perfect," Karen scowled. "All arrogant and rude, looking down her nose at everyone around her."

"But Kitty's good friends with her," Steven pointed out. "Didn't she give Kitty a place to stay?"

"Yeah, I suppose…" Karen shook her head. "But then Kitty told me about how bad-tempered she is. I mean, really, where does she get off complaining about how hard her life is supposed to be?"

Steve only raised an eyebrow.

"You really never know what those types of people are like," he said with some distaste. "After all, who knows? She might have gotten mixed up in some really bad stuff-I heard her father's involved with the Friends of Humanity."

Karen's eyes flared in horror.

"The Friends of Humanity?" she asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Steve nodded unhappily. "I've met George Stacy a couple of times, and I've never liked him. He tries to portray himself as this upstanding citizen, but he was always a hateful, spiteful bastard underneath it all. These sorts of things are never too far from the surface."

Karen had a distinctly sour look on her face.

"Hell, it wouldn't surprise me if his daughter's just the same," Steve shook his head. "George's a rich snob with a bad temper-how do you know that this Gwen girl is just as bad? From everything you're saying, it sounds like that's the case."

"Thanks a lot, Steve," Karen finally said, reaching out and patting her brother's arm in sympathetic thanks.

Steve only smiled in response, even as he reflected on the disgusting hypocrisy of the Stacy family.

Maggie Beck leaned back as she pondered her Psychology paper. Laying on the desk in front of her were pictures of many of the prominent female superheroes and villains. The heroes were represented by Warbird, Captain Marvel, She-Hulk, the Invisible Woman, Storm, Rogue, Jean Grey and Spider-Woman, while the villains were represented by the likes of Screaming Mimi, Spectra, Lullaby, Tarot, Typhoid Mary, Titania, the Ringer, Mystique, the Crimson Commando and Spiral.

As formidable as all of these women were, Maggie couldn't help but lament the fact that they were far outnumbered by men in both the heroic and villainous professions. Indeed, the rogues galleries (to use a pop culture term that described the recurring group of enemies every superhero seemed to gather at one point or another) of all the female heroes were mostly made up of men.

Still, that made a great subject for her thesis when she began her graduate studies in the fall, namely examining how women tended to be minimized both as superheroes and supervillains.

She leaned back and pondered exactly which angle she would use to examine the subject.

Opening up her favorite collection of Poe's works, she turned to The Tell-Tale Heart and began reading.

He used to call himself Harvey Broxtel, son of wealthy steel baron Gary Broxtel and his wife Emily. Everyone else around him used to give him names like "trouble", "bully", "sadist" and "psychopath", from the way he would violently attack people who had less wealth or muscle than him. Much to his parents' dismay, Harvey had reveled in what he saw as his family's wealth and power, taking a sadistic joy in abusing those he deemed poor and weak.

Harvey, for his part, simply viewed it as his right to do whatever he wanted to the lowly peons, and tended to get very angry whenever his victims fought back. As a result, he had been in more fights than his embarrassed parents could count. Their efforts to curb his hatred for poorer people by enrolling Harvey in a public school hadn't done any good, with their son simply becoming more violent until he was finally arrested for beating one of his former victims very nearly to death for telling the school authorities about Harvey's bullying.

If there was one thing Harvey hated even more than poor people, it was snitches.

Fortunately, he'd been given the power to pay them back when, during a prison escape, he was doused by a special radioactive plasma that had given him the amazing ability to generate and control flame. Now clad in a suit of metal plates that had melted into his skin during the explosion that had sprayed the plasma all over him, Harvey had begun using his frightening powers to try and burn down the surrounding neighborhood, before that damned Spider-Woman had stopped him.

He used to call himself Harvey Broxtel, but now he preferred to call himself Firebrand.

He thought it suited him very well, particularly with what he planned to do to his betrayers. Despite being enslaved by that Psyko freak, Firebrand had managed to regain his senses after Psyko was defeated and managed to avoid being recaptured, and had laid low for the past couple of weeks while he tracked down his targets.

Now that the business was taken care of, of course, it was time for the pleasure.

Living in Queens was pretty ordinary for someone like Charlie Weiderman, who had lived there all his life and almost certainly planned to stay there. The Weidermans had never had much money, but Charlie's parents had put every spare penny they had into their son's education. Always one with a head for numbers, Charlie had gone on to Metropolitan University, hoping to parlay his mathematical skills into a job with ClarkeTech or Richmond Industries.

In many respects, Charlie was happier than he'd been in a long time. Being not much bigger than Peter Parker when they both went to Midtown High, Charlie had come to despise the place, not least of which was because of the beatings that people like Harvey Broxtel and Eddie Brock would always lay into him with. Free of all the pain and the misery he'd had to endure in high school, Charlie lived his days out poring dutifully over his logarithms and algebraic formulas, happy to put all the bad memories behind him.

Hence it was all the more shocking when he heard the loud explosion on the roof of his house. Racing upstairs from the basement where he'd been studying, Charlie nearly gagged in horror as he saw that the entire upper floor of his house was already on fire. Not wasting any time, Charlie quickly made his way outside, pulling out his cell phone to dial 911.

He should have kept running, as he froze in shock at the wall of fire that suddenly sprung up to surround him. Looking around in fear, Charlie felt a thrill of horror as he saw the flames seemingly part to allow a bizarre figure to make its way into the ring of fire. The man-or what seemed to be a man-was covered in red and gold metal plates that seemed to be sunk right into its body, complete with a twisted, ghoulish facemask that covered everything but the creature's eyes. Flames danced all over its body, although the thing did not seem to feel any pain.

"Wh…what are you?" Charlie gasped, paralyzed by terror.

"What's the matter, Charlie?" the thing rasped back at him. "Don't tell me you've forgotten already? Every time I smashed your head against a door? Every time I nearly twisted your arm off? Every time I hit you with a baseball bat? Come on, Charlie…think back…don't you remember?"

Charlie's stomach twisted in knots as he suddenly realized who he was dealing with.

"Oh my God…" he mumbled. "Harvey…that…no God no…please…please don't…"

"You don't get to call me that!" the metal-clad man shrieked, as the flames on his body suddenly intensified. "You are only allowed to address me as Firebrand. Do I make myself clear?"

"Y…yes, sir…" Charlie gulped, now sweating profusely as much from fear as from the heat.

"Now then," Firebrand replied, suddenly taking on a more businesslike tone, "do you remember what happened between us in high school?"

Charlie just stood there, frozen in fear.

"ANSWER ME!" Firebrand roared in fury, as the flames all around him suddenly intensified yet again and Charlie was nearly burned. The young man was almost ready to faint from the heat, but his terror kept him upright.

"I…I don't…remember…" Charlie mumbled, his voice fading as Firebrand waited expectantly.

"You told on me," Firebrand rasped, his flames simmering now. "You snitched on me."

"I HATE SNITCHES!" Firebrand screamed at the top of his lungs, as he emitted an intense wave of fire all around him. Charlie Weiderman didn't even have time to scream before he was incinerated along with his house. The neighboring houses and vehicles all burst into flames as well, ignited by the terrifying flames emanating from Firebrand as he vented his rage and his hatred. People ran screaming in every direction, even as the firefighters who were now on the scene were forced to pull back, the flames becoming simply too intense for them to fight.

Laughing hysterically, Firebrand flew into the air and took off to find his next victim, tossing a few fireballs at the retreating bystanders and cackling as they fled.

In his wake was left the charred bones of what had once been Charlie Weiderman, along with the burned bodies of several of Charlie's neighbors who could not escape the flames fast enough.

After another long night of working at the coffee shop and another long day of working on her studies and her lines for the play, Gwen was ready for a break. Kitty had to work that evening, so she decided to visit Liz Allan instead, wanting to see if Liz would be interested in getting some dinner or going to a movie.

Any thought of doing that instantly vanished from her mind when she saw the police blockade further ahead, and the crowd of civilians arguing heatedly with the officers. Alarmed, she ran towards the blockade to see what was going on.

"What's the matter?" she asked an older woman who was standing at the edge of the crowd.

"Some flame-spitting maniac is on the loose," the woman said. "The police said he calls himself Fireball, or Flamebrand, or something like that."

It was the last thing Gwen had wanted to hear, but it was also the last thing she needed to hear.

She didn't know what Firebrand was doing here or what he was planning, but if it was a fight he was looking for, she intended to give it to him.

Liz Allan had seen the reports on the news, and she knew she was in serious trouble. She recognized several of the victims Firebrand had killed, including the unlucky Charlie Weiderman, and she hadn't needed the newscast to tell her that they all tied back to Harvey Broxtel, the most sadistic bully in the history of Midtown High. She still got the shivers when she recalled the way he had looked at her, and the way he had viciously beaten people like Charlie and Peter Parker.

She had already left her apartment, and was well on her way to the police station when she heard the explosions and screaming behind her. Running ahead frantically, she saw the wall of fire spring up in front of her as the buildings on either side of the street exploded in fire. Turning around at the sickening laughter, Liz felt her heart sink as she saw Firebrand levitate down to the ground, lowering the temperature of his flames as he approached her.

"I think you still owe me one more dance," Firebrand grinned behind his mask. "Pucker up, sweetie, and prepare for the hottest kiss of your life."

Liz recoiled in horror, struggling against her fear, when she suddenly saw a flash of light come from above, striking Firebrand in the chest and knocking him to the ground. Not wasting any time, she turned and ran, even as she noticed a stream of silvery thread coming from above to smother the flames in front of her. Liz quickly ran through the flames, noting the spectacular Spider-Woman as she dropped down behind Liz, spraying her webbing to either side to douse at least some of the flames burning the buildings to either side of them.

Firebrand struggled to his feet, looking around in surprise. When he saw who had ambushed him, he exploded in a rage.

'SPIDER-WOMAN?" he screamed at the top of his lungs, as he began to glow with a dangerous aura of dark-red fire.

"I knew I'd run into you sooner or later," Spider-Woman replied calmly, her hands shimmering with the energy of her sting blasts. "Having fun picking on people who can't fight back? Or are those the only people you can take?"

Shrieking incoherently, almost out of his mind with rage, Firebrand unleashed a colossal wave of flame at Spider-Woman. Flipping forward and then springing through the air in a masterful gymnastics twirl, Spider-Woman leapt over the flames, her amazing strength propelling her high enough to clear the fire. Spraying one of her hands to cover it in webbing as she spun through the air, Spider-Woman landed on her feet and caught Firebrand with a webline before he could react, dragging him forward to be slammed against her fist. The webbing covering her hand prevented it from being burned by his flames, before she tossed it away to begin blasting away at Firebrand with her sting blasts.

Staggering under Spider-Woman's relentless assault, Firebrand rolled out of the way of her next blasts and shot a massive fireball at Spider-Woman at point-blank range. She managed to weaken it with a wide spray of her webbing, but it exploded violently nonetheless. Spider-Woman screamed in pain as the flames washed over her lower body, jumping back as much as possible and shielding her face from the merciless flames.

Rolling around on the ground to extinguish the flames that scorched her costume, Spider-Woman was forced to dodge as Firebrand, having reclaimed the advantage, now struck at her with long streams of fire he wielded like whips, extending from his hands. The sadistic villain laughed out loud as he forced Spider-Woman to leap over one low-riding stream of fire, before he slammed her in midair with the other stream and then caused the other stream to explode in a fireball as she fell on top of it. Writhing in agony, it was all Spider-Woman could do dodge this last blast.

Struggling to her feet, Spider-Woman looked around and saw a number of firefighters in the distance, who were too busy battling the blazes Firebrand had caused and trying to rescue the people trapped in the burning buildings. Grimly, she realized that Firebrand had probably left a path of destruction in his wake simply coming down here…

That thought gave her a second wind, as she leapt around the next three fireballs Firebrand tossed at her and caught him with a double sting blast. Staggering in pain, Firebrand's temper began to rise again as he screamed in rage, even as his flames became even more intense, if that was at all possible. The wreckage all around them burst into flames again as waves of fire emanated from the crazed villain.

In the flaming rubble all around them, Spider-Woman found her answer. Spraying her webbing at Firebrand with one hand to distract him, Spider-Woman caught a large pile of debris with one hand and swung it at Firebrand like a flail, hitting him hard and knocking him off balance. Blasting him once again with her electrical stings, Spider-Woman repeatedly alternated her attacks, blasting Firebrand one moment and then using her webbing to sling large pieces of wreckage at him the next. As the flames began to die down, Spider-Woman put everything she had into one final double blast, which finally stunned Firebrand and knocked him senseless.

As the adrenaline of battle faded, Spider-Woman sank to her knees, exhausted with the effort and wincing in pain from her burns. She saw the firemen and paramedics working diligently all around her, putting out the last of Firebrand's madness and treating his victims. She noticed several of the paramedics coming for her, intending to give her the same treatment all of Firebrand's victims received.

Too exhausted to refuse, she gratefully stood up and accepted their help.

Liz had to be treated for smoke inhalation and shock, but she would be alright, which unfortunately was more than could be said for Charlie Weiderman or the eight other people Firebrand had killed in his rampage. She stared sadly out the window, simply unable to comprehend what could have possibly motivated Harvey Broxtel to do what he did.

Responsibility should come with power…shouldn't it? she wondered.

Looking up in surprise, she saw the door open and Gwen come in, limping all the while.

"Hey girlfriend," Gwen smiled at her oldest friend, wincing as she sat down. "How are you doing?"

"How are you doing?" Liz asked ironically, noting how singed and burned Gwen seemed to be, noting the bandages on her arms. "Don't tell me you got caught up in Harvey's rampages…"

"…Harvey?" Gwen asked in surprise, before Liz explained Firebrand's true identity and origins to her.

Gwen only paled at the news, before a look of what seemed almost like understanding crossed her face.

"Yeah, I got too close to one of the burning buildings," Gwen nodded. "I just want to see how you were feeling."

"I'll just need to stay overnight," Liz reassured her, "and then I'll be released tomorrow. But what about you? You look like you could use the rest."

"Oh, I got what I needed," Gwen replied, showing her bandaged arms and shoulders to Liz. "They said I'll be alright with some rest. I'm more worried about you, though-mind if I just sit with you for a while?"

"Sure, that'd be great," Liz smiled in sincere appreciation, before she leaned back on her pillow to rest.

Liz was indeed grateful for Gwen's presence, but at the back of her mind she reflected on everything that was wrong with this picture.

Liz's training as a nurse told her full well that no one with the kinds of burns Gwen had suffered would be allowed to leave the hospital on the same day she had been treated.

She thought back to the time she'd been kidnapped by Tarot, and found Gwen covered in scratches and bruises when they'd met afterwards.

And then there was the fact that, to Liz at least, Gwen had always been a bad liar.

Liz knew all these things, but she wasn't sure how to handle them.

As she drifted off to sleep, she continued going over it all in her mind.

(Next Issue: Gwen tries to patch up her relationship with Randy Robertson, even as she encounters new problems in her rehearsals for the play. At the same time, Liz tries to figure out what secret activities Harry is up to, George Stacy's personal fortunes continue to fall, and the mysterious Moonstone orchestrates a deadly kidnapping plot! All this and more in Spider-Woman #19: Ill Met By Moonlight!)