Behind the Mask: Please Allow Me

"You're kicking too much with just the ball of your foot," Gwen Stacy coached Kitty Pryde as they worked out in the apartment they shared. "You'll deliver a stronger blow if you hit the guy with your entire sole!"

Breathing heavily, Kitty shifted her feet before she kicked again, this time landing a good, solid blow on the padding Gwen was using to absorb the blows. They'd been forced to improvise by duct taping some couch pillows to a pair of old gardening gloves that Gwen wore on her hands, but it got the job done.

"You're coming along really well, Kitty," Gwen reassured her as they took five and sat down to drink some water. "Mr. Tajiri would be really impressed."

"Mr. Tajiri?" Kitty asked after she'd finally set down her water bottle.

"My old martial arts teacher," Gwen explained. "He taught me everything I know."

"Okay, yeah," Kitty nodded. "But I've got to say, Gwen-I really appreciate your teaching me this self-defense stuff."

"Well, why wouldn't I?" Gwen asked in confusion. "Especially with all the crap you have to go through for being a mutant."

"At least it's been quiet the last few weeks," Kitty sighed. "I just wish I didn't have to do this."

"It's not just because you're a mutant, though," Gwen pointed out.

"What do you mean?" Kitty blinked in surprise.

"We live in New York, remember?" Gwen reminded her. "New York City? Highest crime rate in the nation? And remember who we are? Young coeds? Living alone? Sometimes have to go out in public in the evenings?"

"Yeah," Kitty frowned. "I mean, it's not like this neighborhood is that bad, but-"

"-but you never know what might happen," Gwen reminded her. "And don't forget-supervillains can strike just about anywhere."

"It's a hell of a town, isn't it?" Kitty quoted in a singsong voice as they returned to their sparring.

SPIDER-WOMAN #30

BEHIND THE MASK, PART TWO

"PLEASE ALLOW ME TO INTRODUCE MYSELF"

Early August was one of Roderick Kingsley's favorite times of year. Not only was he able to watch the money roll in from the annual sales of his summer collections, he took a couple of weeks to relax from his busy schedule to enjoy the summer sun at his Long Island mansion. Normally he would be in the French Riviera by now, but circumstances required that he stay in New York. Fortunately, that was the advantage of modern communications-in 2007, technology like Facebook and Skype allowed business owners to stay in touch with their companies from almost anywhere in the world.

He had just finished another online meeting with his board of directors when his wife had come down to sit next to him, a pair of martinis in her hands. Handing one to him, Rebecca Kingsley began sipping at the other with satisfaction as Roderick rubbed at his eyes wearily.

"Stirred, not shaken?" he asked, sipping at his own drink.

"Always," Rebecca assured him. "So, what exactly are you planning?"

"Well, I've got those appointments at the Bar With No Name over the next few days," Kingsley reminded her. "It's really a high class establishment, except for the supervillain riffraff."

"Aren't you worried about being seen in a public place with a bunch of known criminals?" Rebecca raised an eyebrow.

"What do you think the disguise is for?" Kingsley smirked. "No one will recognize me. Trust me, it'll be fine."

"I suppose," Rebecca mused as she swirled her drink in her hand. "Everything you've done in the past with this has been pretty profitable."

"Exactly," Kingsley reassured her. "And besides, it's been a hell of a lot of fun, too."

"Well, there is that," Rebecca grinned slyly, stretching her shoulders as she stood up, being sure to prominently lead with her breasts

Roderick looked his wife up and down with a wide, approving grin as he took in every lovely curve of her body. He was shocked by how good she still looked. Even though she was now thirty, she could still turn him on like no one else, save for a select few of his models.

Such as the voluptuous Gwen Stacy, for example.

Living here, in this brand new world

Might be a fantasy

But it's taught me to love

So it's real, real to me

And I've learned

That we must look inside our hearts

To find a world full of love

Like yours

Like me...

Like home...

Tom Ferguson and the rest of the cast of The Wiz cheered Gwen as she smiled somewhat awkwardly and took a bow before their rehearsals ended for the evening. Weary as she was, Gwen still felt that same eager thrill she always did whenever she was on stage, being able to perform for an appreciative audience.

At the same time, though, she still couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed.

"You did absolutely fantastic," Randy congratulated her when rehearsals were finally finished, as they left the theater together and got into his car. "I knew you had what it took!"

"...Thanks, Randy," Gwen smiled back.

"What's wrong?" Randy asked curiously, as he started the engine.

"Nothing," Gwen said, too quickly.

"Gwen, come on," Randy rolled his eyes. "You're doing fine, believe me."

"I know," Gwen said, shaking her head in embarrassment. "I'm just not sure what's wrong..."

"I do," Randy noted. "You're still not sure about this, are you?"

"Well, I-" Gwen hesitated.

"Remember how Mr. Ferguson was saying how the themes in The Wizard of Oz were universal? About how that was the reason the story appealed to him?"

"Yeah..." Gwen paused.

"See, the thing that really resonated with us as black Americans was the message of what we were capable of if we believed in ourselves. You wouldn't believe the shit we've had to deal with-the stereotypes, the hatred, the feeling that we were second-class. We started thinking that way ourselves, and we suffered for it. That was one of the big things the civil rights movement was about-our reminding ourselves of what we're capable of. Baum touched on those themes, and we adapted it for ourselves in The Wiz," Randy explained.

"Okay," Gwen rubbed her chin, not really sure where Randy was going. "But what-"

"But no matter who goes through that type of bad experience, the same thing happens every time," Randy continued. "They get down on themselves, and start forgetting what they can do, or even what they've already done. I see it all the time-I see it in you, even."

"...What?" Gwen asked incredulously. "Well...Randy...I mean, I've never gone through anything nearly as bad as..."

"Maybe not," Randy said, "but it still had the same effect. You had some tough times with your family growing up, didn't you?"

"Well, yeah..." Gwen looked away, not really wanting to talk about it.

"Even if it wasn't on the same scale, it was still a problem," Randy pointed out. "But that doesn't mean you can't get over it. You said it yourself-people often don't realize what they're capable of until someone backs them up on it."

"I guess..." Gwen replied.

"You don't guess, you know," Randy corrected her. "You showed it when you helped Kitty, I show it when I help you, Kitty showed it when she helped me."

"What did Kitty do?" Gwen asked.

"It's kind of a personal thing," Randy shook his head, "and I'd really rather not get into it. The point is that people are always focusing on the bad, and forgetting the good. That's what I love so much about The Wiz-we took Baum's story and made it our own, and now it's got a unique place in American culture, one that everyone can share in. That's the sort of thing I've always tried to do-to show the world what we're capable of and how we've helped build this country."

They pulled up in front of Gwen's apartment building, and she briefly thanked and hugged Randy for all his help.

She was silent as she made her way up the stairs and returned to her apartment, reflecting long and hard on Randy's words.

Gwen didn't have work the next day, so she did something she'd been meaning to do for a while. It took several adjoining trips on the bus, the subway and eventually the ferry, but she finally arrived at Ryker's Island, the infamous New York City island prison where many of the city's most dangerous criminals were kept, when they weren't shipped off to Attica Prison upstate. It was also known for containing the Raft, a special subsection of the prison specially designed to contain supervillains.

As she made her way into the Raft's visitors section, Gwen sat down and waited patiently. It had been a while since the first time since she'd visited Tarot alongside Harry Osborn and Liz Allan, and Gwen wondered if Tarot would be willing to see her again.

As it turned out, she didn't have long to wait, as Tarot, alias Marie-Ange Colbert, soon appeared. Tarot hadn't changed much, with her long dark hair contrasting oddly with her pale complexion. She was small and frail, just over five feet in height, and barely a hundred pounds. Nonetheless, her eyes gleamed brightly, and she carried herself with a determination that was both quiet and overwhelming at the same time.

"Gwen?" Tarot asked in surprise as she sat down and picked up the receiver. "I didn't expect to see you again."

"I know, I've been busy," Gwen replied apologetically. "I'm sorry, Marie-Ange, I really am."

"It's all right," Tarot assured her. "And please-I would prefer that you called me Tarot."

"Okay," Gwen shrugged. "So...how have you been doing?"

"Better, actually," Tarot replied, a thin smile playing about her lips. "My therapist says I've been making a lot of progress. And I've made a lot of friends in here, too."

"Friends?" Gwen asked in surprise. "Like who, exactly?"

"Not any of the supervillains, if that's what you're thinking," Tarot smiled again. "Most of the supervillains in here are lost causes. Electro, the Mongoose, Firebrand, Mister Hyde, Screaming Mimi...they're just...ugh," she shuddered. "Some of the older female inmates kind of took me under their wing, looked out for me in here. I've been helping them, too-giving them support with my tarot readings."

"Tarot readings?" Gwen blinked.

"They let me keep my cards as a reward for my good behavior," Tarot explained, pulling the deck out of her pocket and shuffling the cards with remarkable dexterity. "My power restraints keep me from using my mutant powers, but they can't stop me from using the magic of the cards."

"Alright, I guess," Gwen blinked again. "So things are going good for you otherwise, then?"

"As good as they can, under the circumstances," Tarot replied. "How about you?"

"Pretty good," Gwen said. "I'm starring in this new production of The Wiz, and I've been crazy busy with rehearsals."

"I'm glad to hear it," Tarot answered. "How were things after the death of your father?"

"It hurt," Gwen sighed, "but I've come to terms with it. How about your parents? Do they still keep in touch with you?"

"Of course they do," Tarot assured her. "They were here earlier today, actually. They've been a rock of support for me, especially considering everything I've done."

"Maybe, but you're trying to make up for it, aren't you?" Gwen ventured. "I mean, you're helping out some of the other prisoners, getting help with your problems, that sort of thing. And besides, from what I heard you played just as big a part in stopping the Bookworm as Spider-Woman did."

"Only after Spider-Woman made me realize what I'd been doing," Tarot sighed. "I just wish...I don't know..."

"Hey, you're trying to make up for it," Gwen replied. "And for what it's worth...I believe in you."

Tarot brightened at that.

"That actually makes me feel a lot better," she grinned. "And I appreciate your coming out here-no one really does, except my parents."

"I'll try to come back on a more regular basis," Gwen promised. "Was there anything else you needed?"

"No, simply having someone to talk to is a big help," Tarot replied. "Is there something I maybe do to return the favor?"

"No, it's alright," Gwen smiled, as she rose to leave, until Tarot spoke again.

"How about a reading?" she asked, a question that gave Gwen pause.

"A...reading?" she asked in surprise, as she sat back down.

"Yes," Tarot invited her. "We can get a table so I can spread the cards out."

"Well, I don't know..." Gwen shook her head. "I don't really believe in that sort of thing."

"You believe that I can somehow conjure up all kinds of bizarre spirits, each with its own unique ability, but you don't think there's anything to the cards?" Tarot asked in wry amusement. "Even if that's true, then what's the harm of doing a reading? It won't mean anything in the end."

Gwen couldn't argue with that logic, so she finally nodded in agreement.

Gwen didn't understand why Tarot had put the cards in the formation that she did, or why she had been made to shuffle the deck herself. Nor did she understand what kind of message the cards were apparently sending Tarot-some of them appeared to be the same kind of "name" cards she'd fought as Spider-Woman, while others seemed to have random collections of cups or wands.

"You don't know the difference between the Major and the Minor Arcana, do you?" Tarot asked in wry amusement.

"Well, no," Gwen said in some embarrassment.

"Most people don't," Tarot sighed as she perused the cards. "Most of them think that Death actually means death or dying, which it doesn't...hmmm, interesting," she finished.

"What?" Gwen asked.

"There's a lot more to you than there appears," Tarot reflected. "There's so much you keep hidden from the world...but it complements what you do show to them. It comes out in different ways at different times, but it's all part of the same whole, as the different parts reflect and complement one another."

Gwen just sat there in mild astonishment, as Tarot gathered up her cards and looked back at Gwen with a new respect.

"...I don't know what to say," Gwen finally said after a few moments.

"And here I used to think you were just another flighty snob, like Felicia Hardy," Tarot mused. "Shows how much I knew."

"Well...thanks," Gwen replied, not sure what else to say.

"It's my pleasure," Tarot replied. "And for what it's worth, Gwen...I believe in you too."

Gwen only replied with an encouraging smile, a thumbs-up and a wink.

"Do you know anybody named Mark?" Kitty asked Gwen when she returned to their apartment later that afternoon.

"I didn't tell you about Mark Raxton?" Gwen blinked in surprise. "I met him when we went to Fire Island. He goes to ESU as a Business major."

"I take it he's a frat guy, too?" Kitty asked.

"Yeah, why?" Gwen frowned.

"He called to invite you to a party at his fraternity house tonight," Kitty replied.

"Awesome!" Gwen said brightly. "What was his number?"

"He gave his cell," Kitty said, before she gave Gwen the number. "Were you planning to go?"

"Well, yeah," Gwen said in confusion. "Is there any reason I shouldn't?"

"What about Randy?" Kitty asked. "You've been spending all that time with him, going to rehearsals and everything. Don't tell me you haven't noticed how much he's crushing on you!"

"Well..." Gwen looked down at the floor. "I don't know if I like him like that. I mean, he's a great guy and all, but..."

"And what about Ben?" Kitty persisted. "He likes you a lot, too. And now there's this Mark guy?"

Gwen flinched at that, remembering the very blunt threats Andrew Reilly had thrown her way if she didn't stay away from his son.

"I'd rather not see if your uncle makes good on those threats he made against me," Gwen replied, somewhat defensively. "What are you trying to say, exactly?" she continued, although she was already catching on.

"I mean you owe it to all three of these guys to make a decision," Kitty answered. "Randy really likes you, and so does Ben. I don't know much about this Mark guy, but if you hit it off with him you've got to think about his feelings, too. Do you really want to seem like you're stringing them along?"

Gwen frowned again, realizing that Kitty was right. Ben and Randy had both been rocks of support for her over the last few weeks, and she had unwittingly hurt Randy when she'd gone out with Ben to that party at the Plaza Hotel. Even though it hadn't been Gwen's intention, Randy had felt betrayed, thinking that they'd become a couple.

"That's the problem, though," Gwen said, voicing her thoughts out loud. "I care about Randy, I really do...but I'm not just not interested in him that way. I don't know Mark quite as well yet, but he and I just seem to click. And I hit it off really well with Ben, but now all I can think of when I think of him is his parents. They..."

"...I know," Kitty reassured her. "I don't know what's with them. Ben was pretty unhappy when he found out about what they did. But what about Randy? Have you asked him how he feels? Have you told him?"

"No," Gwen admitted. "I was kind of afraid of hurting him again if I do. He's done so much for me, and I really appreciate it...but I think of him as a really close friend, you know?"

"Sure I do," Kitty nodded. "But eventually you're going to have to clear the air with him. And you need to be honest-that's the least Randy deserves."

"You're right," Gwen nodded. "Do you think I should still go to this frat party with Mark?"

"It's up to you," Kitty shrugged, "but if you want my advice you'll get to know this guy better before you go too far with him. What's he really like?"

"That's what I'll be seeing tonight," Gwen replied.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Ben Reilly demanded as he stormed into his father Andrew's study, before slamming the door behind him.

"Is something wrong, son?" Andrew Reilly asked curiously, looking up from his computer.

"Jessica's friends told me that you told her that I never wanted to see her again!" Ben snapped back. "You threatened Gwen Stacy! And you told Amy that she's too fat to be dating me. Too fat? What the hell's the matter with you?"

"You should really be asking what's the matter with you," Andrew frowned back irritably. "With your horrible taste in women, I'd be abdicating my responsibility as a parent if I didn't intervene. I'm only looking out for your own best interests, you know..."

"Dammit, I'm old enough to be making my own decisions!" Ben shouted back, his temper rising. "I don't need you coddling me like I'm still five fucking years old!"

"Maybe you're forgetting who's paying your way through medical school," Andrew replied harshly, rising from his desk, "and who's putting a roof over your head. I'd think you'd be more inclined to show a little gratitude for that."

"I would, if you'd actually let me make my own mistakes and solve my own problems!" Ben stated, not backing down an inch. "All you do is baby me and treat me like I'm too stupid to think for myself!"

"That's because you keep making stupid decisions," Andrew answered testily. "Why you wanted to study medicine at a public university like Empire State is absolutely beyond me-"

"Because I wanted to be with my friends and family," Ben explained, "and because ESU's medical program is one of the best in the state! Why would I need to go all the way to an Ivy League program?"

"Because you can and you should," Andrew shook his head in disgust. "Instead, you spend all your time and my money going to a low-rent school and chasing after even lower-rent girls."

"Well then, maybe I don't need your money," Ben finally sighed. "I'm done. I'm sick of you and Mom trying to control me. I don't care if I have to get another job on top of interning at Bellevue, I'll pay my own way through medical school."

"If you insist," Andrew raised an eyebrow, his eyes gleaming as Ben turned and left the room.

Mark Raxton looked pretty much the same as he always did when he met Gwen at the corner of the street his frat house was located on. His eyes gleamed bright blue in the light of the summer evening, his red-brown hair was pleasantly unkempt and gave him a certain roguish charm, and he was surprisingly well-dressed in a classy short-sleeved shirt and dress pants.

"You certainly look nice," Mark grinned as he greeted Gwen.

"So do you," Gwen replied with a smile, as she hugged him back. "Was there something going on today?"

"The brothers and I did a lot of volunteer work today," Mark replied, "and we needed to make ourselves presentable. This party we're having is mostly a way to unwind and reward ourselves after everything we've been doing over the last week."

"Volunteer work?" Gwen asked in surprise as they headed towards the frat house.

"Yeah," Mark nodded. "See, I just get so damn sick of the stereotypes you get from those stupid American Pie and National Lampoon films, where they portray fraternity guys as drunken hooligans who're only interested in sex. That's the whole reason I joined my fraternity-to get away from that crap," he concluded as they came up the steps of the frat house.

The scene inside was fairly straightforward-groups of young people chatting amiably on the couches and at the tables as music played in the background. Kegs and coolers dotted the rooms, with what looked like a mix of soft drinks, beer and cheap wine.

"Doesn't exactly look like a wild sex farce, does it?" Gwen quipped as they sat down with some of Mark's fraternity brothers.

"That's the whole point," Mark grinned, before he introduced her to some of the other guys and their dates.

"You're that girl who's starring in Tom Ferguson's production of The Wiz, aren't you?" another one of the frat brothers asked.

"Yeah, I am," Gwen said in surprise. "How'd you know?"

"The girl who plays Glinda the Good is my girlfriend," the guy smiled. "She and I have our own band on the side."

"The catch is that you guys have a lot of talent, but you also have really bad taste," Mark pointed out, a grimace on his face. "I mean, Lisa Loeb is so 1990s."

"This, from the guy who's obsessed with Deep Purple?" the other guy rolled his eyes. "Come on, there's a reason Ritchie Blackmore got sick of that stuff."

"Hey, Deep Purple is iconic," Mark argued. "I mean, what did Lisa Loeb actually do besides date one of Frank Zappa's kids?"

Gwen merely sat back and watched as the two frat brothers argued, even as the other people sitting around the table followed her lead.

As much as she enjoyed going to high-class galas, beach parties and dance clubs, she also found these more laid-back gatherings to be very relaxing.

Yancy Street was in a particularly bad part of town, one where the criminal element reigned and every law-abiding family who could afford it had long since fled. Poverty and abuse were rampant, and many of the buildings in the neighborhood had been abandoned, only to be taken up by criminals as everything from meth labs to crack houses to informal supervillain lairs. One such building was a run-down community center, its boarded windows and overgrown lawn fitting in perfectly well with the bleak, rundown character of the rest of the neighborhood.

At any other time, it might have seemed abandoned. Now, however, it was packed with many of the city's most notorious supercriminals, who had each received an invitation to appear here at this time and place. Whether they were rising talents like 8-Ball and Screaming Mimi or longstanding veterans like the Mongoose and the Jester, everyone in the room had the bizarre outfits and even more bizarre equipment and/or superhuman abilities that had come to define criminal activity in the twenty-first century.

Everyone in the room was very dangerous to cross and not one to take lightly-they would never have lasted very long as supervillains if they weren't-but there were a select few villains who distinctly unnerved their fellows. Psyko was perhaps the most frightening of them all, particularly after he'd mentally enslaved so many of his fellows and subjected to them to their worst nightmares over and over again during the riots he'd caused in New York several months ago, but the likes of Doctor Octopus, Batroc the Leaper, Sabertooth and Stilt-Man still sent shivers down the spines of even the other criminals and murderers who shared their profession.

The person who had organized this meeting, and who now stood on a stage preparing to address the crowd, was one of those villains who'd gained particular notoriety in the supervillain community. His gloves and boots were made to look like skeletal limbs, the chest plate covering his torso was crafted to look as if it was covered in tiny skulls, and his head was a grotesque flaming pumpkin carved with a sadistic, leering grin. A variety of trinkets and weapons hung from his belt, and his voice, when he spoke, was a horrible rasping noise.

Jack O'Lantern looked around at the faces in the audience, smiling inwardly at the way they looked at him. He had made quite the name for himself as a supervillain, particularly his role in destroying the crime syndicate referred to as the Maggia. He'd murdered dozens of the cartel's members ranging from lowly thugs to elite bosses, up to and including Silvermane, the head of the entire organization. The remnants of the Maggia had been trying to retrench since the gang war that destroyed their organization had ended, but Jack had killed them as well. He was not particularly known for being choosy when it came to his victims, and he'd also killed a number of passersby in his rampages, seemingly for no better reason than to watch them die.

Try as they might, neither the police nor any of the city's superheroes had been able to catch him, as his body count continued to rise.

Jack O'Lantern had originally distributed the invitations to each villain over the course of several nights at the Bar With No Name, a high-class bar and brothel owned by the Kingpin which had become the hangout of choice for New York's supervillain population. The invitations hadn't said much, save that what he had to say would bring those who heard it immense wealth, power and pleasure. Normally most of the superhuman criminals would never have taken a second look at such promises, but many of them had come simply out of curiosity due to Jack O'Lantern's rapidly rising stature within the supervillain community.

"Do you know what I see here tonight, as I stare out into the crowd?" Jack O'Lantern asked, an edge of triumph in his voice. "I see people of a like mind, who know what they are and revel in it. I see visionaries, I see the future!"

Some of the villains murmured in confusion among themselves, unsure of what Jack O'Lantern was saying. Even the likes of Doctor Octopus and Stilt-Man, as infamous and deadly as they were, looked back at him with interest.

Satisfied that his audience was listening, Jack O'Lantern continued.

"The people out there, our victims and our prey, are sanctimonious hypocrites who hide their true selves behind a façade of civilized bullshit, wearing their petty little masks and going about their pathetic, everyday lives. They follow society's rules like mindless sheep, content to waste away their lives while holding back people like us, people who take what they want and do what they want to who they want!"

"You, I, all of us, we are not afraid to let our true natures show, to indulge our cruelty, our sadism and our greed! We know we're not supposed to do these things, but that's why we do them! We do them because it's fun, because we're evil! Criminals, psychopaths, monsters, call us what you will! Our appearances match our identities, and we take pride in it!"

Occasional cheers and laughter came from some of the more sadistic villains in the crowd.

"In indulging our greed and our hate, many of us have taken employment as hired thugs and assassins for the crime syndicates. The crimelords use us as soldiers in their wars with each other and with the authorities-they rely on us to do the heavy lifting and get the job done for them! To a degree, I respect them-they indulge their greed and perversions in much the same way we do."

"But why should we be their servants, their hired guns, their lackeys? We are the ones with the power, with the vision, with the courage to live our lives the way we want! Why, then, shouldn't we be the ones to run the criminal syndicates? The Green Goblin had the right idea in trying to beat the crime lords at their own game and forming a syndicate of his own, but he tried to work within the system the crime lords set up. That's why his empire is collapsing!"

The murmuring in the crowd was growing louder now.

"The crimelords are relics of the past! Our victims muddle through their lives, mindlessly obeying the rules that interfere with our fun! We are the ones who revel in the chaos, destruction and sorrow! are the future, we are tomorrow!"

"That is why I propose the formation of a new criminal organization-one where we, the supervillains, take charge ourselves! The Masters of Evil have been formed on multiple occasions by villains who united for a common cause...but their alliances were temporary, their goals short-term. I foresee a new, permanent syndicate, one that will allow us to rise to new heights of fun, profit and power! The wealth we'll gain, the suffering we'll cause, and the fun we'll have will rise to new heights!"

"We are tomorrow!" Jack O'Lantern rhapsodized, his voice taking on an even more manic edge than before. "We are the future, the horror and destruction that await not just the city, but the state, the country, the world! Alone we are frightening, we are dangerous, but united we are Legion!"

" Join me, and we will show the world what we mean! Who is with me?"

Quite a few of the villains seemed skeptical, and made no move to respond to Jack O'Lantern's call, but several others burst into cheering and eagerly called out their support to the pumpkin-headed maniac, thinking of the chaos they would cause and the profits they would enjoy.

"We are tomorrow!" Jack O'Lantern repeated once again.

"We are Legion!"

"We are the Tomorrow Legion!"

And you, Spider-Woman...Jack O'Lantern thought to himself, as he reveled in the support he enjoyed from his fellow costumed criminals, I haven't forgotten you in my magnum opus. Everything is coming together, and all is ready.

For me, there's a glorious new era, all my fondest wishes and dreams come true.

For you, there's only suffering and death.

I know it sounds sordid

But you'll be rewarded

When at last I am given my dues

And injustice deliciously squared

Be prepared!

-Scar, The Lion King

(Next Issue: Jack O'Lantern wastes no time in unleashing his newly assembled Tommorow Legion in a coordinated crime spree that ravages across a New York City still rebuilding after the gang war, as many of the city's supervillains attempt to seize direct control of New York's criminal networks! As the city's superheroes and police struggle against the mayhem the villains cause, Spider-Woman finds herself specifically targeted by her pumpkin-headed nemesis, who intends to settle the score with his heroic nemesis once and for all! All this and more in Spider-Woman #31: Behind the Mask, Part Three: Devil's Night!)