Kiss From A Rose

Well, shake it up baby now…

Shake it up baby…

Twist and shout…

Twist and shout!

In line with the rest of the girls, Gwen was rocking the dance routines she had been taught for opening night at the Gloom Room A Go-Go. After a week of grueling rehearsals and training with the other waitresses and staff, Gwen had everything from the menu to the choreography down cold. In a rare stroke of luck, she hadn't had to act in her superhero identity of the spectacular Spider-Woman, and she'd been able to devote all of her time to preparing for the job.

The Gloom Room A Go-Go was based on the same principle as the famous Coyote Ugly bar chain, with waitresses who not only served the customers but also put on singing and dancing shows for them. Unlike Coyote Ugly's country-western theme, the investors backing the Gloom Room A Go-Go went for a retro '60s theme, hoping to appeal both to older baby boomers and trendy young hipsters, two groups of whom there were plenty in New York City.

Gwen had to admit that the décor and the music both seemed weird to her. This wasn't just her parents' era, this was her grandparents' era, since her mother Helen and her Aunt Nancy were born in the 1960s. Listening to songs like Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, she had a hard time understanding why people like Renata, the club's manager, or part-owner Jonathan Caesar, said it was so revolutionary. Still, the swinging atmosphere of the club had an infectious energy all its own, and Gwen didn't need to act to convey the fun she was having as she alternated between dancing and waiting on the customers.

One thing was familiar to her, of course-namely, the uniforms the waitresses had to wear. Renata called them "angel dresses", micro-mini dresses with flared skirts and long wide trumpet sleeves, along with patterned tights and knee-high go-go boots.

Gwen knew full well that sex sold in any era.

Some things were just timeless, after all.

SPIDER-WOMAN  #69

"KISS FROM A ROSE"

The next morning saw Gwen at the Blue Star restaurant, sipping some coffee as she waited for her boyfriend to show up. Gwen hadn't seen him much in between training for her job and getting ready for the new school year, and she had been looking forward to this brunch date as a means of catching up.

It wasn't long before Randy Robertson appeared, his dark, handsome face contrasting beautifully with the brightness of his eyes and his smile. Gwen's heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, and the smile she gave as she hugged him in greeting was even brighter than his.

"How've you been?" Gwen asked Randy as he sat down.

"Tired, actually," Randy sighed. "How about you? What's working at this Gloom Room place like?"

"You first," Gwen replied, her enthusiasm replaced by concern. "What's got you so worn out?"

"I've been doing some community work over in Harlem, where my parents live," Randy explained, referring to the Manhattan neighborhood that had become iconic for the cultural, social and political role it had played for the black community not just in New York, but in America as a whole. "Believe it or not, we still have to raise hell to get adequate services from the city-it's funny how places like the Upper East Side get their streets and lights fixed so much faster than ours."

"So what are you doing?" Gwen asked curiously.

"Helping to organize the protest rallies," Randy explained. "I've been filming some of the speeches and demonstrations, and putting them up on places like YouTube, Mother Jones, places like that. I'm sorry if I seem tired, but-"

"Believe me, it's fine," Gwen assured Randy, taking his hand in hers. "I haven't had much free time either. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I appreciate that, Gwen," Randy smiled, "but this is kind of our thing, you know? It's…sort of…" he trailed off, a concerned look on his face, as if he was worried about offending her.

"No worries," she nodded, smiling at Randy to help put him at ease. "Just let me know if there's anything I can do, got it?"

"No problem," Randy assured her. "So, what's the Gloom Room like?"

"It's…unique. Let's put it that way," Gwen laughed. "The pay's great, though-and I can't say I have any problem with the scheduling, either. I have to admit that the music gets to be pretty grating after a while."

"They should play more Motown there," Randy quipped as the waitress approached. "Show me someone who gets tired of Martin Gaye, and I'll show you someone with bad taste in music!"

Gwen laughed at that, before turning to address the waitress.

The conversation shifted to other topics at that, but Gwen's thoughts kept coming back to the energy he'd shown in his voice when talking about the problems Harlem was going through, and the way his eyes had lit up.

That fight means a lot to him, Gwen realized. The thought of doing good for his community, helping people who need it…

…and just look how happy it makes him, she thought.

That realization brought a smile to her face.

Looking at Jorgen, it was hard to believe that he was afraid of anything. Well over six feet tall and built as though he was addicted to steroids, Jorgen had earned his status in the organization through his willingness to get his hands dirty and his ability to get the job done. He'd personally committed at least eight murders over the course of his career, and had orchestrated many more.

That said, Jorgen was very afraid of delivering bad news to his boss Philippe Bazin.

Although he towered over Bazin physically, Jorgen always felt as though Bazin towered over him in every other way. He wasn't entirely sure why-perhaps it was the impeccable collection of art objects that decorated Bazin's manor, the vast collection of weighty tomes on Bazin's bookshelves, Bazin's demonstrating that he'd read every one of those books at least twice over, or even just the diabolical look his trimmed moustache and beard, combined with the icy glare in his dark eyes.

Unfortunately, when Bazin summoned him, Jorgen had no choice but to pay homage to his master.

Entering into Bazin's office, Jorgen felt like he was being gazed upon by a king in his throne room, a king who was all too ready to employ the guillotine. Bazin was the same as always-staring with that same calm, cold look that reflected a mind as brilliant as polished diamond, and a heart just as cold and hard. He didn't seem angry, but then again it was so hard to read his moods.

Finally, Jorgen was standing in front of Bazin's desk, waiting for his boss to make the first move.

"Speak," Bazin ordered.

"Every single time, it's been the same thing," Jorgen explained, doing his best not to gulp. "Every one of them shot, the equipment smashed, and the raw materials looted."

It was the third drug lab wrecked this week, and Bazin wasn't the least bit amused.

"And they have employed the same calling card?" Bazin demanded.

"The same rose," Jorgen nodded. "Every time."

"Your inquiry as to the responsible parties?" Bazin continued.

"We've confirmed that it's not one of the established players trying to make a comeback," Jorgen continued, referring to several of the organized crime syndicates and gangs that had been run out of business in New York over the last several years. "It's someone entirely new. Completely off the radar until now."

"Continue your investigation," Bazin ordered, "and maintain normal operations until further notice."

Jorgen nodded and left almost too hastily, slamming the door behind him and leaving Bazin alone to ponder.

Reacting now would be foolish-Bazin hadn't survived this long as a crime boss by jumping the gun, after all-and he needed a better idea of what he was up against before he could decide the best course of action to take.

It was, of course, obvious that a new player was trying to horn in. New York was one of the richest criminal stomping grounds in the entire country, even despite its problems, and much of the competition had been thinned out over the years. Recent casualties had included the Green Goblin's syndicate, wiped out by the police with help from the amazing Spider-Man; the Maggia, murdered en masse by the psychotic supervillain Jack O' Lantern; the Kingpin's syndicate, driven out of New York by a combination of law enforcement and a feud with the terrorist group A.I.M.; and the Tomorrow Legion, an informal supervillain crime syndicate that had been defeated by the likes of Spider-Woman, Moon Knight and Spider-Man in its various incarnations.

Other would-be contenders had tried to stake their claim and had utterly failed. Mr. Negative had been systematically thwarted by Daredevil at every turn, before being captured by the police and suffering an unfortunate "accident" in Attica Prison. A number of the South American drug syndicates had tried to set up shop directly in New York, but they'd all been crushed by the Heroes For Hire.

Now, the only ones left were Bazin himself and the outgoing yuppie crimelord Crimewave. Bazin had crushed up-and-coming sharks like Gavin Thorpe and Jason Tso, guys who'd tried starting wars with Phillip. Unfortunately, they'd come to learn the hard way that Bazin didn't start gang wars-he finished them.

This new figure was something else entirely, though. Whoever he or she was, the new figure was being much more careful, making precise surgical strikes while not leaving much of a trail for anyone to follow. Bazin had been able to see the likes of Thorpe and Tso coming a mile away, and he hadn't had too much trouble dealing with them. Nor had he been too concerned with the rise of the Tomorrow Legion-with so many independent, power-hungry supervillains, any alliance between them would always be unstable, no matter what kinds of safeguards the likes of Jack O' Lantern tried to build into the system.

But this new person was careful, and from the planning of his attacks it was clear he or she already had an intimate understanding of the New York underworld.

And that was a concern.

"I must admit, I've never seen a patient quite so eager as you are," Dr. Karl Malus told Elaine Coll as she eagerly hopped onto the operating table. "Even Mac Gargan didn't show this much enthusiasm."

"That's because I'm even nuttier than he was," Elaine grinned. "It's about damn time I can cause some real destruction!"

"Whoever's backing you must be quite eager for you to get started," Dr. Malus noted, as he began entering commands into the console in front of him. "I would not have expected to get some $7 million without even some haggling."

"The boss is going to make a big splash, Doc," Elaine smirked, as the floor beneath the operating table opened. At the same time, a panel in the operating table opened to reveal a breathing mask that came down over Elaine's face. The floor beneath the table had opened to reveal a tank of shimmering green and yellow liquid, into which the operating table lowered Elaine's body.

Nodding to himself, Dr. Malus turned the final knob, sending an electrical current into the tank to stimulate the chemical bath that Elaine was now completely immersed in.

At first he wondered what that strange sound was.

Then he realized it was Elaine squealing in ecstasy.

Ernie still couldn't quite believe that she had been able to come up with the money that quickly. The day he was set to start throwing her stuff out in the street, she'd strolled into his office and thrown a briefcase full of money onto his desk. It was enough to cover all of the back rent she owed him, plus another year's worth of residence. She had subsequently told him to fuck off and stay out of her business, or else he'd regret it.

Ernie knew full well that she'd probably found a new sugar daddy, although he had no idea who it might be. With the threatening way she glared at him, it was probably someone with a lot of pull...

…which likely meant someone dangerous.

Ernie had no affection for the little bitch, but she had paid all her bills on time, and lived up to the terms of her lease.

That said, he couldn't help but be nervous at the thought of who she might literally be in bed with.

"Am I awesome or what?" Angelo Fortunato asked Felicia Hardy as he emerged from the bathroom.

"Oh yeah," Felicia purred. "You're like a fucking wildcat."

"Sorry I can't stay for too much longer, babe," Angelo continued, as he sat down on the bed and began pulling his pants on. "Duty calls, you know?"

"Whatever," Felicia muttered. "So what is it this time? You messing with the Yancy Street Gang again?"

"No, the boss has much bigger plans than that," Angelo smirked. "It's time for some random action to fuck with everyone's expectations. Even guys like Bazin and Moon Knight won't be able to figure it out!"

"…Whatever," Felicia repeated herself, not caring about the details of running a crime syndicate.

"That's another thing, though…" Angelo continued. "The boss ordered me to come up with some places to hit, and I'm having some trouble coming up with them. You mind helping me?"

"You mean you want me to come up with some place to have a gang shooting?" Felicia raised an eyebrow.

"Or a bombing, or whatever," Angelo grinned. "Consider it your one-week anniversary present. Got any place you'd like me to hit?"

Felicia thought for a moment, and then it hit her.

"…Do I ever," she hissed, an evil smile crossing her face.

One week later…

This is what it's all about, Randy thought to himself as he adjusted the camera he was holding. He was filming a prominent Harlem priest talking about the problems with violence in the community, and how the city needed to provide more funding to deal with the problem.

I love film, Randy continued, and I love this community. Maybe this is what I should be doing with my-

The massive explosion that tore through the stage knocked everyone around it off their feet, including Randy.

For a moment, Randy lay there stunned, utterly confused by the shock. Slowly, painfully, he got to his feet, his mind still a blank. All around him was pure chaos, people running and screaming. Some of them were trying to escape, others were looking for their family members, and still others were trying to approach the flaming wreckage of what was once the stage.

Finally realizing what was going on, Randy advanced towards what was left of the stage, trying to see if anyone was alright. He was stopped dead in his tracks by the sound of another explosion behind him, and another one after that…

…where his parents were standing.

No…oh God please, no…Randy thought to himself, as his blood ran cold.

Turning around, he ran back towards where the third explosion occurred, not even noticing the fourth explosion as it happened.

Everything around him was pure pandemonium. People screamed, tried to run away, dug through the rubble left behind, or began trying to call for help on their phones.

None of that mattered to Randy at the moment, as he made his way to the crowd to where the third explosion had taken place.

Then he saw the sight he had prayed to God wasn't true, but realized was all but certain.

The burned and unconscious bodies of Louise and Isaiah Robertson, lying in the midst of the other bodies and the debris of the explosion.

These are cute, Gwen thought to herself with a grin as she studied the skirts at the mall. Once I save up a couple of paychecks, I should be able to-

Gwen nearly jumped as her spider-senses began tingling, and she was so startled she needed a moment before she realized what was happening. It had been a long time since her senses had triggered by themselves, which signified that something of interest to her was happening to someone she had marked with the pheromones she could emit.

God bless whoever invented tote bags, Gwen thought in determination, as she turned around, looking for the nearest exit, and God bless whoever made spandex fit so easily into it…

Following the lead of her spider-senses, Spider-Woman was more dismayed than surprised to see them leading her to a hospital. There was considerable activity going on around the front of the hospital, as a number of people were being led into the building on stretchers. Despite its intensity, everything seemed to be working normally, and Spider-Woman couldn't see any kind of crisis that would necessitate her interference.

Somebody's in the hospital, she realized, as a chill of fear came over her.

Nodding to herself briefly, she pulled her tote bag, now containing her street clothes, out of the backpack she'd made out of webbing.

Glancing around, it wasn't long before she found a suitable hiding place where she could change.

Making her way into the hospital, Gwen saw that it was much the same on the inside as it was on the out. While the hospital was a whirlwind of activity, the doctors and other medical staff were working quickly and diligently, maintaining a calm, stoic demeanor.

Gwen envied their ability to keep calm. She felt sick at the number of bodies being brought in, and the grisly injuries many of them had suffered. She couldn't imagine what had happened to them, and wondered if they'd been caught in some sort of supervillain attack.

Damn it all, Gwen thought to herself. If it's not one costumed psychopath in this city, it's another…

She had been so disgusted at what she'd seen that it took her a few moments to notice that the majority of the victims were black.

Her blood ran cold at that realization, and realized just what her spider-senses were likely trying to tell her.

Oh God, Randy…she thought to herself, focusing again on the insistent pull of her spider-senses. The hospital was built like a maze, and all the activity made it even harder to navigate, but Gwen's spider-senses were flawless. It wasn't long before she saw Randy sitting on a chair, seemingly alright…

…but any sense of relief she felt at Randy being unharmed vanished at the look of despair on his face.

Sitting down next to him, she reached out gently and touched him on the shoulder.

"…Randy?" she asked as he looked up.

"Oh…Gwen…" he mumbled. "You're…what are…"

"Are you alright?" she asked in concern.

"How did you know where I was?" he asked weakly.

"You know about my spider-senses, right?" she replied. "What happened to you? Are you alright?"

"…No," Randy shook his head. "There was a…" he took a deep breath before continuing. "Somebody bombed the rally I was at," he said, "and…my parents…oh God…"

Gwen felt a surge of horror at that, realizing now what had caused all the injuries and suffering she'd seen on her way in. Following that, she felt a wave of sorrow for Randy, who was likely wondering if his parents were even going to live the night.

Reaching out, she drew Randy in close, hugging him tightly and whispering reassuring words into his ears.

The pain on Randy's face was upsetting enough to Gwen, but what made her feel even worse was that all his old energy seemed to be gone. She'd seen the passion in his eyes when he's spoken about what the rally meant to him and his community, but all that was left seemed to be a loss of hope, a belief that the world had fallen apart all over him.

Gwen sat holding Randy for several hours, even after a nurse had found them and told Randy that his parents were in stable condition, and would need to be in the hospital for several more days.

The next day…

"Wow, I'm impressed," Felicia smirked at Angelo as they read about the results in the Daily Bugle the next day. "How'd you get all that done so quickly?"

"Like I said, the boss has pull," Angelo grinned, as he pulled Felicia in for a kiss. "He's the future, Felicia-he thinks a lot bigger than jackasses like Silvermane or the Kingpin ever did."

"Weren't you in the Maggia, though?" Felicia asked curiously.

"My dad was," Angelo replied, referring to his father Don Fortunato, a Maggia underboss who had died in a gang shootout almost two years ago. Although the details were sketchy-apparently Fortunato hadn't even had any bullet wounds-Angelo didn't particularly care, given how much he hated his father and would have paid for the chance to personally put a bullet between his eyes.

"In a couple of weeks, the boss is going to own this city," Angelo grinned, "and we're going to cash in. You've hit the big time, honey!"

"More than I ever would with that old fart Kingsley, I bet," Felicia smiled back, before they kissed again.

"He'll be alright, won't he?" Gwen asked the old woman sitting at the table with her as they watched Randy head off to refill their coffee cups.

"I hope so, sweetie," Martha Robertson shook her head sadly. Randy's grandmother didn't look much better than he did, upset as she was not just by her son and his wife being in the hospital, but also because of the blow the Harlem community had suffered.

Instinctively, Gwen reached out and took the older woman's hands in her own, grasping them warmly.

"Is there anything I can do?" Gwen asked. "I mean, I just wish there was…" she trailed off.

"You've already done plenty, believe me," Martha assured her. "I'm so glad you were able to look after Randy yesterday," she continued. "It took us a while to make sure everyone was alright."

Several members of the Robertson clan had gathered at Martha's house to comfort one another after what had happened. Many of them still had deep roots in the Harlem community, and the tones in which they'd prayed for the victims of the bombings had revealed the pain and turmoil they felt.

"I…" Gwen trailed off, not entirely sure what else to say. She had brought Randy to the gathering when Randy's housemates had told them about the call, but she hadn't felt right staying, thinking that it should be a family-only affair. It was only at Martha's invitation that she'd done so, and Gwen wished there was something else she could say or do.

"The people of Harlem have endured a lot worse than this, believe me," Martha explained. "That's the thing about us, though-we're fighters. We've been kicked and spit on and beaten down so many times, but we keep coming back. That's what whoever's behind this is going to see, believe me," she continued, her eyes reflecting that same inner determination Gwen had seen so often in Randy's orbs.

Gwen tried to feel hopeful at that, but the downcast expression on Randy's face as he returned with more coffee only made her more worried.

It was evening by the time Gwen had escorted Randy back to his apartment, but she was hardly ready to return home. She still felt restless, concern for Randy and his parents mingling with her wondering who had caused the bombing. Try as she might, Gwen couldn't keep herself from brooding over that problem, and wondering how she could bring them to justice as Spider-Woman.

Nodding to herself, Gwen changed into her Spider-Woman costume and began webswinging, hoping that it would clear her head. Unfortunately, an hour of webswinging didn't do much to change Spider-Woman's increasingly frustrated mood.

It was while she was swinging by a large apartment complex that she heard the shouts, crashes and screams.

Whoever's there, they really picked the wrong night, Spider-Woman thought to herself as she turned towards the sounds of the carnage.

As Spider-Woman approached the building, it was clear where the chaos was happening. A gaping hole had been smashed in the ground floor of one of the buildings, and moving shadows confirmed that something in there was very wrong. Dropping off her webline, Spider-Woman landed on the ground outside the building and immediately sprang in, ready for anything.

The sight that confronted Spider-Woman was a grisly one. The room was strewn with corpses, some of them torn and slashed and others badly burned and scorched. Blood splattered the walls, and several of the people still alive were badly maimed, trying vainly to crawl away or passed out from the pain.

Standing among the bodies was a tall woman in a padded dark green costume with thick slashing claws on the ends of the fingers. Her face was partially covered by a mask that left her mouth exposed and allowed her dark brown hair to fly free behind her, as well as a pair of green eyes that flashed with a disturbing light. As disturbing as those sights were, they did not compare to the huge mechanical tail that protruded from her back, the way it swung hypnotically doing nothing to distract from the large gore-covered stinger at the end. The woman turned around as Spider-Woman sprang into the room, her eyes lighting up with surprise.

Spider-Woman sprang forward, shooting her sting blasts at the large woman, but the woman only smirked. Swinging her tail around, she quickly deflected the blasts before extending her tail over her shoulders and head. The tail stabbed forward with terrifying speed, tearing a flesh wound across Spider-Woman's back as she ducked. Rolling to the side and coming up, she shot a double blast of webbing at the tall woman, who simply held out her hands and let the webbing entangle them.

The two women were soon caught in a tug-of-war, and the tall woman proved the stronger, easily throwing Spider-Woman off balance and flinging her into a table. As Spider-Woman crashed through the table and rolled away, slowly rising to her feet, the tall woman extended the claws in her gloves and easily slashed through Spider-Woman's webs as if they were made of tissue paper. The tall woman's tail repeatedly struck at Spider-Woman, forcing her to dodge until she managed to strike back with her sting blasts.

To Spider-Woman's dismay, the tall woman dodged with amazing speed, landing on her hands and then springing into the air to come down on her feet. Spider-Woman tried to entangle the woman with webbing as she leapt, but the tall woman easily slashed through the webbing with her tail, masterfully coordinating it even as she twirled through the air. Soon, the woman was on her feet, pointing her tail once again at Spider-Woman.

Expecting the tail to slash at her, Spider-Woman was caught by surprise as a bolt of energy shot out from the tail, catching her dead on and knocking her to the floor. Crying out in pain, Spider-Woman sprang to her feet but was immediately ensnared by the woman's mechanical tail. Wrapping around Spider-Woman like a constrictor snake, the tail soon had her firmly ensnared before whipping off to the side, slamming her hard into the wall.

Still smiling, the tall woman advanced on Spider-Woman, who struggled uselessly to escape.

"My, my, my…" the tall woman grinned as she looked Spider-Woman over. "You are a delicious little morsel, aren't you? I could just eat you up, and spit you right out…and I'm not saying that just because you're a spider, you know."

"You…who are…" Spider-Woman muttered, still trying to break free of the tail.

"Little old me?" the woman grinned. "I'm just a girl with the powers, strength and mean streak of a scorpion…or, as I guess you could call me, Scorpia. Not the Scorpion, mind you-Mac Gargan is a hardcore son of a bitch. I'm not in his league-I just happen to be a particularly depraved fangirl who lucked out."

"Why are you doing…" Spider-Woman croaked, before crying out in pain as Scorpia tightened her tail's grip on Spider-Woman.

"Believe it or not, there are a couple of prominent criminal-types who live in this building," Scorpia explained. "It's just too bad that their families happened to be my prey. As for the rest of them…well, they're just collateral damage."

"Collateral…?" Spider-Woman gasped, struggling once again to break free. "Damn you…"

"You know, morsel, I'd love to continue this little playdate, but I'm on kind of a tight schedule," Scorpia explained. "You see, there's going to be a really hot time in the old town tonight…and I'm not just talking about me. There's a new player in town, honey, and if I were you I'd stay out of his way. I hope you don't, though-you're such a precious little thing, and I know you heroes can't stop yourselves from trying to stop sickos like me from doing our jobs. I had so much fun, I do hope we'll be able to play again sometime soon. Say goodnight, honey!"

Shock replaced struggle as Scorpia released Spider-Woman, before wrapping her tail around Spider-Woman's wrist. Too surprised to react, Spider-Woman cried out in pain as she was flung across the room and sent crashing heavily into the far wall. Remarkably, she managed to stay on her feet after the collision, although she was staggered by her dizziness. Even that didn't last long, as Scorpia shot another bolt of energy from her tail and blasted Spider-Woman head on, knocking her back into the wall once more.

Spider-Woman's entire body exploded with pain from the blast before she passed out, and by the time she regained consciousness it was all she could do to stand. The police had arrived by then, and all they could find were dead bodies everywhere.

A surge of adrenaline enabled Spider-Woman to quickly get her second wind, and it wasn't long before she had retrieved her tote bag and swung off into the night, her anger overcoming her pain.

You caught me off guard, Spider-Woman thought to herself. Good for you. But don't think this is over, you bitch-next time, I'll show you what a real sting looks like.

Just a few days ago, Spider-Woman had been upbeat, pleased and cheerful.

Now, all she felt was grief, sorrow and anger...

…and, although she would never admit it, Spider-Woman also felt her skin crawl when she thought of what Scorpia had said to her when she was bound in the taller woman's tail, not to mention the way Scorpia had looked at Spider-Woman when she'd said those things.

Just a kid…Detective Cecilia Perez shook her head sadly as she watched Spider-Woman leave. What the hell is this world coming to when some college kid decides to-

"What the hell?" one of the CSIs investigating the crime scene asked in surprise, as Detective Perez turned around.

"What is it?" Perez asked as she came over.

"Look at this," the CSI asked, as the rest of the investigative team came forward. Several of them looked at each other in surprise, mumbling their confusion at what the CSI held in his hand.

One single, perfectly untouched red rose.

"Everything went just like I hoped," Scorpia, alias Elaine Coll, smirked at her boss. "These powers are so fucking awesome!"

"I should hope so, considering how much I paid for them, my dear," Elaine's boss replied, as he linked his hands together in satisfaction.

He was immaculately dressed in a fine Italian suit and hat, looking every inch a man of style, taste and refinement. All around him, his office matched his elaborate taste-fine furniture, a beautiful chandelier, high-class paintings on the walls, and a large arrangement of roses placed near the window. The roses were a beautiful, sumptuous red, perfectly matching the one placed in his lapel. Even his mask with a vibrant, sumptuous red, inviting passion and danger all at once.

"Well done, my dear," the Rose smiled at his favorite henchwoman. "Do keep me informed of how the rest of the plan is proceeding, won't you?"

"Oh, I will," Scorpia grinned back. "I've even got all the roses ready!"

"Don't place them with the wrong victims," the Rose warned Scorpia. "The last thing we want to do is give the game away to the wrong people!"

"Always thinking ahead, huh?" Scorpia laughed, as she turned to leave. "No wonder you're the brains of the outfit!"

The Rose just smirked as Scorpia slammed the door behind her.

Blinking once, the Rose concentrated intently as his very form began to shift. The gloves and facemask covering his hands and face rippled like waves of water, even as they turned a deep midnight blue. Soon, they vanished, replaced with the midnight blue hands and face of the man who called himself the Rose, even as a pair of gold eyes, lacking pupils entirely, blinked out from the face.

Alistair Darkholme, alias the Chameleon, only laughed to himself. He hadn't had this much fun in years, wondering why it had taken so long for him to realize the power he could wield in such a form. For all the grief he'd given Raven, Alistair chided himself for not having thought big enough before now.

For years, he had operated as a spy and saboteur, using his mutant shapeshifting powers to disguise himself and work on behalf of terrorist organizations, unethical corporations and criminal syndicates. Able to almost flawlessly imitate anyone with the help of his powers and his natural persuasive powers, the Chameleon could go anywhere and be anyone, hiding in plain sight. For years, he had been a persistent thorn in the side of intelligence and police agencies like SHIELD, the CIA and Interpol, clashing repeatedly with the likes of Nick Fury, the late Pete Wisdom and Captain America, all of whom had been pushed to their limits in unmasking his employers' schemes.

His most recent employer had been the mysterious crimelord known as the Kingpin, who had masterminded a plot to murder a number of prominent public officials who were known to be on the take from him. The murdered officials would then be replaced by new ones the Kingpin would have no connection to…at least until the Kingpin planted special mind control devices on them that would make them work towards his interests as he directed. The Chameleon would plant the control chips on these officials, using whatever disguises he needed to. That way, the Kingpin would have a collection of totally obedient public officials, without any of the incriminating evidence that would allow law enforcement to trace the connections back to him.

Alistair thought it a wonderful plan, and readily agreed to do it. However, the intervention of the city's superheroes, most notably Moon Knight, the White Knight Detective, had thwarted those efforts. Already battered from a previous feud with the technocratic AIM, the Kingpin and his chief lieutenants had been forced to flee the city, leaving their space wide open for the taking. It hadn't been difficult for the Chameleon, disguised as the Kingpin's Enforcer lieutenants, to abscond with the mind control chips. He hadn't dared steal from the Kingpin's organization, of course, but once the Enforcers had been killed by their boss for their failures he'd easily looted their substantial personal bank accounts...in addition to all the other money he'd managed to embezzle from other organizations by impersonating the cash's rightful owners.

Now, using a disguise so no one could trace anything back to him, Alistair was poised to carve a very large part of New York's crime world out for himself. Characteristically, attacking Philippe Bazin and Crimewave would make for a nice distraction until he got as many public officials as possible under control.

Oh Raven, if only you could see me now, Alistair thought, referring to his hated sister. Better known to the world at large as Mystique, Raven Darkholme used her shapeshifting powers to commit terrorist acts on behalf of the mutant supremacy movement, assisting Magneto and directing his special terrorist group, the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants. Raven hated Alistair for what she saw as selling out, but Alistair simply saw the spy game as being more beneficial in the long run.

Hiding underneath that beautiful bloom is an array of thorns ready to strike at the unwary…Alistair mused, as he shifted back into his Rose form. Small wonder I loved the flowers so much.

His thoughts unexpectedly turned towards Spider-Woman, who Scorpia had so brutally defeated in their battle.

Ah, and aren't you like a rose too, my dear? Alistair realized. So achingly beautiful, and so sharp and strong, all at once.

More the pity, then, that if you cross me, much like any of your other fellow costumed heroes, you'll have to be snuffed out.

(Next Issue: As Gwen prepares for university and continues working at the Gloom Room A Go-Go, she struggles to balance those responsibilties with her worries about Randy and her desire for revenge against the Harlem bombers. As Spider-Woman, she begins investigating the bombings, but she gets more than she bargained for when she gets caught up in the machinations of Crimewave and Philippe Bazin, who both hatch plots of their own to retaliate against the Rose's attacks! All this and more in Spider-Woman #70 What A Tangled Web We Weave!)