Cold Shoulder

Randy Robertson checked his watch as he waited on the quad of Empire State University. He was meeting his girlfriend for their first date in a couple of weeks, and he wondered where she could be. All around him, the snow on the quad was melting as the sun shone brightly. It was the last week of March, and Spring Break was next week, something that Randy and almost every other Empire State student was eagerly looking forward to.

Walking down the path, Randy looked for his girlfriend, eager to see her again. He wondered if she was running late, something that had been a constant problem for her even though she often couldn't do much about it. Still, he hoped she wouldn't be too much longer, since there were a lot of things he needed to say to her.

Randy was so preoccupied in looking for his girlfriend that he didn't hear the footsteps coming up behind him. He recoiled in surprise as his vision suddenly went dark, his eyes covered by the hands of the person who'd snuck up on him.

"Guess who, sunshine!" the bright, musical voice echoed in Randy's ears, giggling as its owner pulled her hands away from Randy's eyes. Turning around, Randy was pleasantly surprised to see his girlfriend, a beautiful young woman with long, blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes and a perfect white smile, clad in an agreeable yellow jacket that contrasted nicely with her hair, a pair of form-fitting jeans that emphasized her long, shapely legs and a pair of stylish Ugg boots on her feet.

Gwen Stacy always looked gorgeous, of course, but the warm smile on her face always cheered Randy up. He was especially glad to see how happy she was, particularly with all the stress and crap she'd had to deal with lately.

"You look exceptionally handsome today," Gwen smiled at Randy.

"And you look exceptionally hot today," Randy grinned back.

"What, I don't always look hot?" Gwen pouted in mock hurt.

"Hey, you were the one who was implying that I don't always look handsome," Randy frowned reproachingly at Gwen, before they laughed and hugged.

SPIDER-WOMAN #52

"COLD SHOULDER"

Making their way to the Coffee Bean, Gwen and Randy got some coffee and lunch before sitting down. They ate in silence for a few minutes, enjoying each other's company, before Gwen finally spoke.

"How've things been?" she asked him.

"They've been good," Randy smiled back, before sipping his coffee. "School's been a grind, but what else is new?"

"Glad to hear it," Gwen grinned.

"How about you?" Randy asked her. "I saw you on the news fighting that Firebrand freak," he continued, referring to Gwen's recent battle in her superhero identity as the spectacular Spider-Woman, preventing her old enemy Firebrand from murdering his parents. "I also heard about that Vincent Gonzalez sicko, too-sounds like he's going to get what he deserved."

Gwen briefly frowned at that, and Randy cursed himself inwardly, wondering if he'd struck a nerve.

"I'm sorry, I-" he started.

"Don't worry about it," Gwen reassured him. "I just hate to think of what he did to all those people, just because they stuck up for me..."

"And because of you, now he's going to get what he deserves," Randy said quickly, kicking himself inwardly. "How have things been with your family?"

"They've been great," Gwen smiled, her bright mood quickly returning. "Mom's doing great these days-did you see her on TV?"

"I checked out the link you e-mailed me," Randy replied. "Frankly, I think your mom missed her calling. She should've been an anchor, or something like that. I know she'd have fit in really well at HABQ-FM," he continued, referring to the radio station where he worked.

"You should tell her that," Gwen smiled. "One of the reasons I wanted to meet you was to invite you to dinner on Saturday-Mom's really eager to meet you."

"Oh, really?" Randy said in surprise. "Hey, I'd love to come," he grinned, although Gwen caught the way his eyes briefly flickered off to the side.

"...What's wrong?" Gwen asked curiously, although she had an uncomfortable suspicion.

"I...tried talking to Mom and Dad about us," Randy said slowly. "I still can't quite believe what they said," he finished awkwardly.

"What do you mean?" Gwen asked gently, doing her best to keep herself from frowning.

Randy shifted, not quite sure of how to phrase it.

"Come on, you can tell me," Gwen prompted him, taking his hand in hers.

"They said they weren't sure just if you were really suitable for me," Randy explained, encouraged by the smile on Gwen's face. "Mom and Dad wondered if you couldn't make enough money to contribute, and if I'd just end up supporting you, because you couldn't get enough work as a model or an actress. I mean, we've only been dating for three months, and they're going on as if we're engaged!" he finished incredulously.

"Well, they sort of have a point," Gwen admitted.

"...What?" Randy asked in surprise.

"Well, I wasn't exactly able to make ends meet on my own," Gwen admitted. "I had to move back in with Mom and Aunt Nancy, and I'm lucky I got that work with Desiree Vaughn-Pope. That's the first good job I've had in the last couple of months."

"Yeah, but that's because you've had to spend so much time as Spi...er, doing that 'volunteer work' you're so involved in," Randy quickly corrected himself, remembering that they were in a public place.

"That doesn't change things, though," Gwen reminded him. "I have responsibilities to live up to."

"Yes it does, Gwen," Randy said sadly. "Mom and Dad aren't being fair to you."

"They're just looking out for you, Randy," Gwen tried to reassure him, seeing the frustrated look on her face, squeezing his hand more tightly. "Your parents are concerned, that's all."

"I know," Randy sighed. "That's not all it is, though-I just hate seeing you have to deal with this," he explained. "I mean, you've had to put up with so much crap already. It's not fair."

"I know it's not," she smiled back at him, "but you help me deal with it. That's all I could ask for," she smiled again, revealing that perfect white smile that made Randy's heart pound.

She leaned on him as they paid their bill and left the Coffee Bean, wrapping his arm around her as she leaned her head on his shoulder.

His support meant more to her than all her superhuman abilities ever could.

J. Jonah Jameson was never happier than when he was on the warpath. Although he didn't think any more of Spider-Woman than he did of Spider-Man, Daredevil or any of the city's other superheroes, he'd secretly been delighted when Joy Mercado had brought him the reports of how Spider-Woman had caught Vincent Gonzalez and some of his goons in the act of attacking some of the people who'd spoken out against him in Spider-Woman's defense. The police had subsequently raided the headquarters of Citizens For A Mask-Free City, and they'd found more information linking the group to a series of other violent beatings and murders of people who'd criticized Vincent Gonzalez and his hate campaign against Spider-Woman.

Recent developments had given Jameson more than enough ammunition, and now he intended to make very good use of it.

Prisoners who get singled out for abuse, just because they're mutants.

People with superhuman abilities who get targeted and forced to specially register with the government because they accidentally get superhuman abilities that they never asked for.

People who speak out in favour of mutants and other people with superhuman powers being treated the same as everyone else-something that's one of the founding principles of our Constitution-getting beaten to within an inch of their lives just for using their right to free speech, which just happens to be another one of our Constitution's founding rights.

It reminds me of when the Jews were forced to wear special yellow badges in Nazi Germany, and were deprived of their property and freedom.

It reminds me of when black people had to sit at the back of the bus, or use specially designated bathrooms, or could get hanged just because of their skin colour.

It reminds me of when Native people were herded onto reservations like cattle and prevented from voting.

Is it any coincidence that the Superhuman Registration Act is becoming popular, when all these things are happening? Not bloody likely-is it any coincidence that Senator Robert Kelly, who just happened to be exposed by this newspaper as having gotten major campaign contributions from anti-mutant hatemongers like the Friends of Humanity, is the biggest supporter of superhuman registration?

It's one thing to support the registration of masked superheroes. I've been calling for this for years. But that would only apply to Spider-Man and the rest of the costumed grandstanders who go around taking the law into their own hands. If people use their superhuman powers in their day jobs or just for their own personal amusement, then why should the rest of us care, so long as they're not hurting anyone? Besides, superhero registration would only apply to anyone who insisted on running around in a stupid costume playing hero, whether they had powers or not!

If anyone's out there hurting people, it's the anti-mutant bigots and superhuman registration boosters. Vincent Gonzalez made a big deal about standing up for ordinary people, but he beat many of them half to death when they used their free speech rights in ways he didn't like. Now, people like him are proposing we should bring back the old Jim Crow laws-and don't be fooled, that's what superhuman registration is-and extend them to anyone with powers, not just mutants.

Jameson had spent the last six decades of his life fighting with the pen rather than the sword, using his fiery editorials to attack everything from segregation to Communism to political corruption. Now, despite being almost eighty-two years old, he was fighting against this new enemy with the same spirit he'd first shown as a teenager when he'd lied about his age to join the Navy and fight the Japanese after they'd destroyed Pearl Harbour.

And he was enjoying every minute of it.

The thin young woman was born Marie-Ange Colbert, although she now answered to the mutant codename of Tarot as well. Under that name, she'd previously been a supervillain who'd tried to abduct and kill many of the people who'd bullied and abused her, using her mutant powers to bring the entities of the tarot to life. She had been thwarted by the heroic Spider-Woman, however, and ended up being jailed at Riker's Island Penitentiary. She'd started out in the Raft, the supervillain wing of the prison, but had been moved into the general women's population for her own safety. Things hadn't gotten much better, however-although some of the other women inmates had come to accept her because of the tarot readings she performed for them, others tended to treat her like a mascot or had outright begun beating and abusing her.

Marie-Ange had confessed her troubles to Gwen Stacy, among the only visitors she ever got in prison, even though there didn't seem to be much Gwen could do to help her. Gwen had tried to get the Daily Bugle to raise public awareness of the issue, although Marie-Ange had asked that she not be directly referred to in the article. While the Bugle's articles had generated considerable attention from prisoners' rights advocates and mutant rights supporters, and considerable debate within the prison system, not much had been done yet to improve Marie-Ange's situation. To make matters worse, Marie-Ange noticed the murderous glares many of the other inmates were shooting her way.

Now, in the prison exercise yard, Marie-Ange's heart sank as she saw the four women coming towards her. The four women were all hard-bitten and vicious, longtime veterans of the prison system. They were as physically strong as any man, scarred and tattooed, they terrified both the other female inmates and the prison staff, male and female alike, and they were all advancing on Marie-Ange from different directions. Paralyzed with fear, Marie-Ange couldn't have escaped even if she'd been able to move, and now the Big Berthas, as they had nicknamed themselves with pride, had her completely surrounded.

"You just had to go and snitch, didn't you?" one of the Berthas smirked, pulling a nasty-looking shank out of her pocket.

Marie-Ange shrank under the Berthas' glare, looking like a hunted animal with nowhere left to run.

"What, you think we don't read the paper?" another one of the Berthas sneered, slipping a pair of brass knuckles onto her hand. "You think we wouldn't know you were always talking to that blonde skank that keeps visiting you?"

"That's why it's punishment time," the first Bertha grinned. "You girls ready?"

"Is this a private party, or can anyone join?" a voice came from behind them. Turning around, the Big Berthas were surprised to see two other inmates standing behind them. The new arrivals were a pair of middle-aged women who carried themselves with the practiced ease of seasoned veterans of the prison system, and unlike everyone else in the women's wing at Riker's, they didn't seem the least bit afraid of the Big Berthas.

"Piss off," one of the Berthas sneered. "You wanna get cut too?"

The two women standing apart from the Big Berthas looked at one another, smiled and nodded. Before the Big Berthas could react, they charged forward and attacked. One of the women dropped one of the Berthas with a vicious spin kick, driving her prison-issued boot deep into the Bertha's gut. The other woman ducked the metal bar one of the other Berthas swung at her, wresting it out of her grip and then striking right back with it, hitting the Bertha in the head and knocking her senseless. The third Bertha then lunged at the first woman who'd intervened, only to find herself laying on the ground screaming as the woman broke her hand with another kick, snatched the shank the Bertha had dropped and slashed her across the arms with it. The last Bertha attacked with a knife made out of soap, but the second woman who'd intervened tossed the metal bar she was carrying and caused the Bertha to trip. The second woman easily dodged out of the Bertha's path, before picking up the soap knife that the Bertha had dropped and stabbing her in the hand with it.

Everyone else in the exercise yard sat in stunned silence, watching in amazement as the Berthas lay on the ground, bloodied and beaten. The two women who'd just flattened them then stepped over the bodies of their fallen foes and helped Marie-Ange to her feet.

"You okay, sweetie?" one of the women asked Marie-Ange.

"Yeah, I am..." Marie-Ange said. "Who are you?" she asked in amazement. "And why did you-"

"Donnie asked us to look after you," the other woman explained. "I'm his mother Lucy, and this is his Auntie Rae. We're both Gills."

At first Marie-Ange had no idea what they were talking about, but then she recalled Donald Gill, the inmate with entirely white skin and hair, one of the few people besides Gwen and her parents who she'd regularly interacted with in the prison. He had the ability to generate and control ice, snow and other forms of cold, embarking on an extremely short career as the supervillain Blizzard before becoming the first supervillain Spider-Woman had defeated.

"Donnie read about what happened to you in the paper, and asked us to keep an eye on you," Rae explained. "We're not afraid of the Berthas and we never were," Rae Gill smiled wickedly.

"Get the message?" Lucy Gill called out to the bystanders, who were still watching in stunned silence. "Anyone hurts this girl, they answer to us! And next time we aren't pulling our punches!"

None of the female inmates had a reply as they looked away, but the looks on their faces and the concerned mumbling they voiced made it clear that they knew what to expect if they ever messed with Marie-Ange again.

Marie-Ange herself was still completely floored by the whole affair.

"Why are you helping me?" she asked in amazement, as Rae and Lucy turned back to her.

"Like I said, Donnie asked us to look after you," Lucy replied. "He always saw you talking to that one blonde girl that visits you-you're probably one of the few supervillains who actually gets regular visitors that don't want to fuck them. When he read in the Daily Bugle about how mutants like you were getting abused in prison, he asked us to look after you."

"But what if those women attack us again?" Marie-Ange said hesitantly.

"So what if they do?" Rae scoffed. "Look, honey-you're still kind of a rookie in here, so I'll fill you in. We're part of the Gill family. Riker's Island, Attica Prison and Sing-Sing are our second homes. We're drug dealers, car thieves and bank robbers. We're on a first-name basis with everyone on the New York Police Department. We're chronic jailbirds, repeat offenders and criminal lowlifes. And we're proud of it-the more times a Gill gets arrested, the more respect he or she gets from the rest of the family. We're legends in the prison system, and we're proud of it!"

"And while we might be criminal scum, we have standards," Lucy stepped in. "We don't take kindly to seeing mutants get hurt, for one. Don't worry about the Berthas coming after you again, sweetie-everyone in general population, men and women, know better than to screw with the Gills. You pick a fight with us, you better be ready to go at it street rules. It's funny how we always win those fights..."

Looking around, Marie-Ange was shocked to see how the rest of the prison population made a point of not returning the looks of Lucy and Rae Gill. When they realized she was looking at them, they soon averted their gazes from her as well.

She had a hard enough time believing that, and she had an even harder time believing the sense of safety she felt. Looking around, she knew she wouldn't be in any more danger for a long time to come, if ever.

Marie-Ange knew who she had to thank. Gwen Stacy had clearly informed the Daily Bugle about the problems the mutant prisoners were experiencing in Riker's Island, and when Blizzard, alias Donny Gill, had read about it, he'd gotten his mother and aunt to protect her.

For the first time in a very, very long time, Marie-Ange smiled.

"...Thank you..." she silently whispered, feeling as though a heavy weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

Gwen took some grim satisfaction in reading the Daily Bugle's condemnations of Vincent Gonzalez and Citizens For A Mask-Free City, not to mention its criticisms of the treatment of mutant prisoners in Riker's Island. She could only hope that Marie-Ange would be alright, and was less than happy with the realization that she could have just opened Marie-Ange up to retribution. Unfortunately, she just didn't know how else she could have hoped to help.

Sighing with the realization that she'd done all she could, Gwen began turning to the Entertainment section of the newspaper to see if there were any new interesting auditions coming up. That production of Othello that she'd auditioned for with Randy seemed to have been cancelled, and with her recent modeling work she'd recently gotten the urge to try and start auditioning for acting parts again.

All of a sudden, her spider-senses activated and she leapt up, ready for action. Just as suddenly, they switched off, leaving Gwen standing in confusion as she tried to figure out just why she'd jumped up. Even as she was trying to get her head together, her spider-senses suddenly switched on yet again, before turning off...again.

On and off.

On and off.

On and off.

On and off!

Gwen fell to her knees and held her head in her hands, screaming in pain as her spider-senses seemed to be going haywire. She was home alone, and no one responded to her cries as her spider-senses went crazy. Eventually, she was sprawled on the floor, shuddering all over as she tried to somehow get her spider-senses under control.

It finally stopped, and Gwen lay in a heap for several minutes before she finally staggered to her feet. Staggering into the bathroom, she vomited into the sink before getting a good look at herself in the mirror. She was pale with shock, her eyes rimmed with tears and her entire body shaking like a leaf.

Briefly washing out the sink, Gwen staggered back into the living room and collapsed onto the couch, wondering what could possibly be wrong with her.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Jack O' Lantern finally flipped the switch of his device to the OFF position and leaned back, sniggering to himself. He knew Gwen must be a nervous wreck by now, especially having her spider-senses constantly switched on and off driving her crazy. The pumpkin-headed madman delighted in the irony that one of Gwen's most useful powers, her spider-senses, were so easily turned against her.

It was while testing some of his equipment that Jack O' Lantern had found the pheromones Spider-Woman had marked him with. Chemical testing had revealed their purpose to him, namely the fact that Spider-Woman could use them to track and locate anyone she marked them with. He'd also found that, with the addition of his own chemical reagent, he could gather all the pheromones she'd marked him with into one large group. He'd then placed the pheromones into a special stimulator device that he could use to block Spider-Woman's spider-senses, preventing her from locking onto them.

From there, he could deactivate the blocking, causing Gwen's spider-senses to suddenly lock onto them again, particularly since he was in a situation that would be of interest to her. He could cause Gwen to gain or lose her focus onto the pheromones with a simple flick of the switch, stimulating her spider-senses to activate against her will. There was nothing actually wrong with her powers, of course-they often activated by themselves whenever a person marked with her pheromones was in a situation of special interest to her...and who could be more interesting to her than the person who hated her most in all the world?

By suddenly blocking her ability to sense her pheromones, Jack O' Lantern could make it seem as though Gwen's spider-senses had suddenly stopped working. By suddenly reactivating them, he could startle her, make her react to things that weren't there, make her doubt her spider-senses and make her wonder if her powers were malfunctioning. He'd done it several times in succession just after she'd visited the doctor, where she had no doubt gotten a clean bill of health. Making her spider-senses react after that would just plant more doubts in her mind.

Now, constantly switching them on and off, Jack O' Lantern could torture Gwen, alias Spider-Woman, the person for whom Jack felt a hatred that stemmed from the very depths of his depraved soul, a hatred that consumed his entire being and filled him with the desire not only to destroy her, but to tear her apart, body and soul, to ruin anything and everything she held dear, until she had nothing and no one left and death was the only respite that would free her from her misery.

It had all been part of Jack O' Lantern's plan ever since he'd escaped from prison. He knew that Gwen would probably have been on her guard once she'd learned he'd escaped, and so he'd started with the harassing phone call to let her know that he was watching her, and that he knew where she was. That would drive her into a rage and make her look over her shoulder, particularly since she didn't know when or where he might strike, or how he might be watching her. She didn't know about the microscopic tracking device in her back that Jack O' Lantern had planted on her during one of their early battles, a device that gave Jack a detailed account of her movements and whereabouts every day of every week ever since the device had been planted on her.

The next step, once she'd had some time to cool down, was to plant the demonic jack-in-the-box in her bedroom at home. That would inflame her even more, making her realize that he'd been in her home and could strike her any time. She would, of course, be getting emotional support from her friends and family, but that hardly mattered.

The next step would be to make Gwen doubt herself by constantly stimulating her spider-senses, making it seem as if they were malfunctioning. She wouldn't be able to tell anyone about this without risking her secret identity, so she wouldn't be able to get help from anyone for her problems. The stimulations of her spider-senses were becoming more and more frequent, so as to make it seem as if the problem was getting worse. The thought of Gwen becoming increasingly stressed and upset made Jack's laughter more hysterical. He was the cat and she was the mouse, taking care to slowly torture his prey before he finally destroyed her.

Jack O' Lantern's pumpkin mask always sported a hideous demonic grin, but tonight that grin seemed especially wide. It was all so easy, he realized, particularly since he knew Gwen just as well as she knew herself, if not more so. She was fiery and passionate, capable of forming strong emotional attachments and reactions. When things went wrong for her, as they so often did, she was often consumed by guilt, feeling responsible for whatever happened, particularly if it hurt someone or something she cared about. She constantly struggled with her anger and her emotions, and Jack O' Lantern remembered observing just how angry and violent she'd been when she'd first become a costumed superheroine.

How strongly would Spider-Woman react if Jack O' Lantern's crimes could be tied directly back to her?

Jack O' Lantern's laughter went from hysterical to full-blown maniacal, as he realized he had the perfect cheese to capture his little mouse.

All he needed was one final list, so helpfully compiled by Vincent Gonzalez.

Gwen tried to put her fears at the back of her mind as she waited in line at the bank the next day. Her spider-senses seemed to be getting more and more erratic, even though Dr. Hudson hadn't found anything wrong with her except for the stress she often suffered from. Maybe that was it-was her stress causing her spider-powers to go crazy? No, she'd already considered that-even after everything she'd gone through last year, her powers had always functioned perfectly whenever she needed them.

Gwen was so lost in her reverie that she was caught completely off guard when the front doors of the bank were blown open by a huge wave of ice that seemed to come almost out of nowhere. She, the other customers and the employees began shivering with cold, their breath misting in the air, as they saw a whirlwind of snow start up outside through the windows. As Gwen and the rest of the people in the bank looked on in astonishment, a blue- and white-clad figure stepped into the bank. He was clad in a body suit of deep ice blue, with stylized snow-white gloves, boots, and mask that covered not only his head, but his shoulders and upper chest. He looked around at the people in the bank, before folding his arms in a cocky stance.

Gwen was floored at seeing Blizzard again. She wondered how he could possibly have gotten out of jail, before she realized that his costume was different than last time. This Blizzard, if that was who he really was, was also taller than the Blizzard she knew as Donald Gill. He carried himself with a different demeanor, and when he spoke, Gwen knew full well that he wasn't the costumed criminal she'd fought before.

"This is a bank, so I'm sure you're all familiar with the routine by now," the man sneered. "The name is Blizzard, and you're all my hostages."

"Blizzard?" one of the bank tellers asked. "But you're supposed to be in jail! And what's with the new costume?"

"New costume?" Blizzard asked, his voice rising in anger. "You mean that piece of white trash who plagiarized my identity? He's still in jail, you stupid cow! I'm the real Blizzard, the one who's fought Iron Man! I'm stronger, smarter and more powerful than Donald Gill ever was. I'm the first, the best, the only Blizzard!" he ranted, his voice becoming increasingly furious as his ranting continued.

"O...okay," the teller stammered, her teeth chattering as she moved to open one of the cash boxes. "We'll give you the money, just-"

"You think this is just about money?" Blizzard shouted back. "I don't just want the money-I want Donald Gill! I want to fight him! I want to kill him! I want to show him who the real Blizzard is! And if he doesn't show his face in twenty minutes, then I'm going to kill you all one by one until he does!"

"But Donald Gill's in jail!" Gwen said, making sure to put a rising sense of panic in her voice. "They won't be able to get him here in time!"

"Twenty minutes," Blizzard repeated calmly, "and I start killing one hostage for every five minutes afterward that he doesn't show."

"No, please!" Gwen pleaded in her best maiden-in-distress voice. "Please, don't hurt us!"

Blizzard just laughed at Gwen's rising sense of panic. She had judged Blizzard correctly-he enjoyed the sense of being able to lord it over his helpless hostages, knowing that he was in complete control.

"Tell you what, sweetheart," Blizzard smirked, "I'll let you go out and tell the police. I think they're probably here by now. Besides, it wouldn't do to give a pretty face like yours frostbite," he leered.

Gesturing to the bank doors, Gwen ran towards them and scrambled up the ramp of ice that Blizzard had used to enter the bank, making sure to breathe heavily and seem like she was trying as hard as she could not to panic. She made sure to stumble once, and then twice, before she finally got out.

The police had arrived by the time Gwen emerged from the bank, and she babbled out Blizzard's threats to them, playing her assigned role to perfection before she kept on running.

She'd played the part of the panic-stricken hostage, but now she had another role to play, one she was going to enjoy a lot more.

Blizzard, alias Gregor Shapanka, only laughed as he watched his hostages, none of whom were dressed for inclement weather, shiver in the bitter cold he'd generated. He only wished that Tony Stark was one of them, still bearing his former employer a grudge for firing him. Stark had nixed Shapanka's research into cryonics after Shapanka had blown off his boss's concerns about cost, and so Shapanka had embezzled the resources he needed to complete his research. However, Stark Enterprises security had found out about the theft, and Shapanka had been jailed for theft, not to mention fired by Stark.

Then again, it didn't matter too much. Shapanka consoled himself that soon enough, he would be able to kill that snotty little upstart Donald Gill, and prove once and for all that he was the true Blizzard. Just to torment his hostages, he lowered the temperature in the building even more, causing them no end of misery.

The shattering of the bank's window caught Blizzard completely off guard, as did the large spider web that suddenly sprang up between him and his hostages. One of the tellers immediately called out to the rest of the staff and the hostages, and they ran for the rear exit, no longer afraid of getting attacked by Blizzard. Most of the icicle spears and hailstones Blizzard threw at the fleeing hostages were blocked by the giant spider web, and the rest of them were shattered by the bioelectric sting blasts coming in from the side. Whirling around in a fury, Blizzard was floored to see the scarlet- and gold-clad Spider-Woman leaping at him, firing her sting blasts.

It didn't take the experienced Blizzard long to defend himself with a wall of ice and then set the ice falling at Spider-Woman. She stopped her attack short and sprang back, but as the ice wall shattered she was pummeled with several flying blocks of ice. Blizzard then followed up with a storm of hailstones, knocking her off her feet as he laughed out loud. His laughter was cut short as Spider-Woman caught his ankle with a webline and pulled him off his feet, causing him to let up his attack as Spider-Woman stood up. She fired a sting blast at him, but he rolled out of the way again and this time released a wave of snow, causing Spider-Woman to lose her balance and fall to a sitting position. Spider-Woman tried to get up, but her reactions were becoming increasingly slowed by the bitter cold. Blizzard kept up the wave of snow and eventually added in some ice, nearly encasing Spider-Woman and leaving her trapped.

"You're the one who sent Donald Gill to jail, aren't you?" Blizzard mused, as Spider-Woman struggled to break free. "So...what? You thought you could take me as easily as you did him? You didn't do your homework, kid-I've fought Iron Man to a standstill!"

"And Iron Man was still alive, the last time I checked," Spider-Woman shot back, contempt in her voice. "Since you're so obsessed with killing people like Donald Gill who crossed you, I suppose that means you've never beaten him."

Enraged at Spider-Woman's taunts, Blizzard began generating a massive scythe of ice, intending to take her head off while she was still trapped. However, he was so angry that he didn't notice Spider-Woman's hands glowing within her icy prison, and was caught completely by surprise as she blasted her way free. Blown back from the impact, Blizzard cried in pain as several large shards of ice tore into him at point-blank range. Some of the ice shards pierced right through to his body underneath, drawing blood.

Her entire body shaking with the cold and covered in bruises and cuts from Blizzard's assault, Spider-Woman didn't waste any time in hitting him with her sting blasts. The icy villain howled in pain and fell back, as some of Spider-Woman's blasts struck the ice shards in his body and conducted the energy through the ice, through the cryonic circuitry and directly into his body. There was a loud crackling sound as the cryonic circuits of Blizzard's costume shorted out, and the man himself collapsed, moaning in pain. Staggering over to him, Spider-Woman tore off Blizzard's mask and nodded in satisfaction when she realized he was still breathing. Wrapping him up in webbing, Spider-Woman emerged from the still-frozen bank and dropped Blizzard at their feet, before looking around. To her relief, she saw that the rest of the customers and staff in the bank were being treated by the paramedics, and none of them had been hurt by Blizzard's attacks.

Nodding wearily, she spun a webline and swung off to where she'd left her street clothes, wanting nothing more than to get home and take a good, long rest.

Stewing in a holding cell later that afternoon, his injuries having been treated by the paramedics, Gregor Shapanka seethed at his defeat by Spider-Woman. The little bitch had ruined everything, had prevented him from fighting and killing Donald Gill for copying his Blizzard identity. She probably wasn't even Gill's age, and she'd played him for a fool-a fool!

He tried to remain calm, but it wasn't easy, considering how damnably cold it was in the jail cell. Shapanka didn't quite understand it-at this time of year, it shouldn't have been so freezing out! Shaking his head, Shapanka only blinked a few times, before he lay back on his cot, still in pain from his battle with Spider-Woman. In his mind, he was mulling on the fact that there were now four people he needed to kill: Tony Stark, Iron Man, Donald Gill and Spider-Woman.

If there had been a mirror in his cell, Gregor Shapanka would have been surprised at the fact that his formerly brown eyes had turned a deep shade of blue and how his hair was starting to turn snow-white. If his injuries hadn't been bandaged and he wasn't wearing a prison uniform, he would have seen how his blood was turning the same color as his eyes and his skin the same color as his hair.

He'd gathered and double-checked all the information, and now everything was ready.

At last, at long, long, last, Jack O' Lantern was ready.

And for Spider-Woman, the nightmare was just beginning.

(Next Issue: Jack O' Lantern prepares to take his final revenge on Spider-Woman when he goes on a murderous killing spree across New York City, culminating in taking his niece Kitty Pryde hostage! Consumed by rage and guilt at her inability to stop Jack's murders, Spider-Woman intervenes to stop Jack O' Lantern but soon finds the tables turned on her when Jack captures her and subjects her to the final phase of his plan! All this and more in Spider-Woman #53: Pumpkinhead!)