What A Tangled Web We Weave

They lay in silence, not moving an inch nor making a sound. All around them was silence, save for the faint beeping and whirring of the machines monitoring their condition. Although the whiteness of the room was meant to feel cool and soothing, it seemed more lifeless and sterile, a limbo somewhere between life and death.

Gwen Stacy shuddered at that realization as she looked from one of the patients to the other. Just being in the hospital room was draining, as she witnessed the suffering of Isaiah and Louise Robertson all too vividly. They were lifeless in all but name, which made it all the more painful for Gwen to recall how full of energy and life they'd been a scant few days before.

The thought would have hit Gwen hard by itself, but it was doubly painful to see it reflected in the face of their son Randy Robertson, Gwen's boyfriend. She'd loved his fiery spirit, that passion that drove him to do great things for his community, the strength that had helped support Gwen in some of her own despairing moments. Now, all of that was gone, replaced in with quiet despair, a sense of lifelessness that made Randy barely more active than his comatose parents.

Randy's parents had been attending a community rally in Harlem when they'd been seriously injured by a savage bombing that had torn through the march. Gwen had seen the grim results walking through the hospital on her way to the Robertsons' room-many of the other people injured in the bombings were being treated in nearby rooms, and few of them looked much better than the Robertsons.

A scream cut through the silence, making Gwen turn around with a start.

The sounds of bitter weeping dulled the sudden surprise Gwen felt, as she was weighed down by the realization that yet another victim of the bombing had not pulled through.

Closing her eyes, Gwen did her best to blink back the tears she could feel starting to appear.

Why this? Gwen wondered.

Why them?

Why now?

Why...

why...

why....

SPIDER-WOMAN #70

"WHAT A TANGLED WEB WE WEAVE"

Dejectedly, Gwen left the hospital and made her way towards the home of Randy's grandmother Martha Robertson. For the last few days since the bombing, Randy had been staying with Martha, and Gwen hoped that he would be in a talking mood today.

Making her way through the outer streets of Harlem, Gwen could still see the aftereffects of the bombing. Maintenance crews were repairing the damage to the streets, police detectives were interviewing residents, and many of the residents themselves walked as if they had the weight of the world on their shoulders. That last fact stood out in Gwen's mind, as she realized just how much community spirit the good people of Harlem shared...

...and how much it had endured, not just in the bombing but in all of the trials it had gone through and that Randy had mentioned to her at different times.

How much have they gone through? Gwen thought to herself as she walked up the street towards Martha Robertson's residence. How much are they still going to go through...and how many other people could deal with all that, even in New York?

It didn't take long for Martha Robertson to answer the doorbell. Despite her advanced years, Martha carried herself with the determination and vigor of someone a third her age, her black-and-grey hair the only major indication of her true age. Her face lit up as she let Gwen in, the smile on her face indicating her pleasure at Gwen's visit.

"It's so nice to see you again, child," Martha said, hugging Gwen tightly. "How are you doing?"

"I'm alright," Gwen smiled back, doing her best not to wince. She was still in pain from the last battle she'd fought in her superheroic identity of the spectacular Spider-Woman, against a vicious costumed supervillain with the superpowers and bad disposition of a scorpion. Gwen had tried to stop Scorpia from murdering a group of innocent people in the apartment complex she was raiding, but Gwen had been lucky to avoid becoming a victim herself as Scorpia brutally defeated her. In between her waitressing job, getting ready for university in the fall and simply resting from the fight, Gwen hadn't had the time to track down Scorpia or the mysterious new employer she'd talked about.

Martha frowned at that. Gwen's assurances weren't any more convincing than the first time they'd met, and she could tell that the younger woman had a lot of things on her mind.

"How are you, Mrs. Robertson?" Gwen asked politely, as she bowed slightly.

She regretted asking the question, as she saw Martha's shoulders droop momentarily, even as her eyes flickered. The older woman's lips began moving, and Gwen began wondering what Martha was thinking about. It seemed almost as though she was recalling something, although Gwen couldn't tell what it was. One moment there was fire in Martha's eyes, the next Gwen saw a haunted look, as if Martha was recalling something she would rather not remember.

"I'm fine," Martha said determinedly. "I take it you're here to see Randy?" she asked Gwen.

"Yes, I am," Gwen nodded. "How's he-"

"He's back at work now," Martha shook her head. "He should be home in a few hours. As for how he's doing..." she trailed off.

"What's wrong?" Gwen asked, concern creeping into her voice.

"He's doing a lot of reading," Martha explained. "A lot of the books and movies that were so important to him. Everything Dr. King wrote, for instance, and Mr. Douglass, and that book that King T'Challa IV just published. It's all he's done over the last few days besides eat and sleep..."

"...Should we be worried?" Gwen asked in concern.

"...I honestly don't know," Martha sighed, seeming to age ten years all at once. "I'm not sure what to do, I'm honestly not..."

"You will be," Gwen said, putting her hand on Martha's shoulder. "Did you want me to stay for a while?"

"I appreciate that, sweetie, I really do," Martha smiled gratefully, "but I was actually going to head out when you stopped by. I've got some errands I really need to do. But if you wanted to come back later when Randy's home, I'm sure he'd be thrilled to see you again."

The two women hugged again, and left Martha's townhouse together before they split up, going in opposite directions along the street.

Seeing Martha hadn't made Gwen feel any better-if anything, she felt worse.

There's got to be something I can do, but what? Gwen thought to herself.

Then it hit her.

Smiling inwardly, she looked for a convenient hiding place.

Like the rest of the Heroes For Hire team, Misty Knight had been in low spirits ever since the Harlem bombings. Her boyfriend Luke Cage had taken it especially hard, and he was now out gathering leads to determine just who was responsible for it. Colleen Wing and her boyfriend Danny Rand, the other members of the team, were out on a case, so she was left to handle the team's financial contributions to help many of the victims of the bombing. Although they charged substantial fees for their work, the Heroes For Hire were also known for doing pro bono work for lower-income groups and donating most of their profits to build or repair community facilities in lower-income areas of the city.

Misty had spent most of the afternoon speaking to representatives of the banks and the charities the team was working with, so it came as a surprise when the receptionist told her that she had someone who wanted to see her. The visitor was even more surprising to Misty-a beautiful young woman with long, jet-black hair, clad in a red and gold spandex costume. Although they'd never met, Misty recognized the visitor as the spectacular Spider-Woman, one of New York's newest superheroes.

"Hello," Spider-Woman nodded as she sat down. "I was wondering if you could help me with something."

"What kind of case've you got, honey?" Misty asked, still surprised by Spider-Woman's visit. "We don't usually hire out to the masked spandex set."

"I don't want to hire you," Spider-Woman shook her head. "I was wondering if you could tell me if you've managed to find out anything about the Harlem bombings."

Misty blinked at that.

"And just why would you want to know about that?" she asked, her eyes narrowing. "What's your game, girl?"

"I just want to help," Spider-Woman frowned, annoyed at Misty's question. "What, you don't think I care?"

"I didn't say that," Misty replied coolly. "But we've made a point of knowing how the superheroes in this town roll, kid. From everything we've seen about you, you only start swinging when you come across some kind of trouble. You don't have any bigger plans or agendas the way somebody like Moon Knight or the Fantastic Four do. And I can't recall the last time you ever got involved in a Harlem incident. So when a white girl who usually only suits up when she meets problems face to face suddenly turns up on our doorstep asking for info on the bombings, I can't help but wonder why. I'm not gonna spill unless you do, sweetie-tell me why this matters so much to you, and then we'll talk."

Spider-Woman hesitated at that, wondering how much she should reveal to Misty.

These people have connections, she realized, and they might even know Randy. If they ever figure out who I am...I really don't want anybody knowing my identity unless I tell them, she thought to herself.

"I ain't interested in your life story," Misty continued, easily seeing Spider-Woman's concern, "and I don't need you to be namin' names, either. Just tell me why these bombings matter so much to you. It's not just outta the goodness of your heart-I can tell."

"...I'm not really connected to Harlem, but somebody I care about is," Spider-Woman explained. "He has a real passion for the community, and doing his part to help it. Now those fires are gone, ever since some of his loved ones were hurt in the bombings. I want to help him get that spirit back, the spirit that made him so proud and strong. If my helping to punish the monsters who did this will do that, then it's what I'm going to do. Besides, everyone deserves justice-and whoever caused these bombings might do it again."

Misty was struck by Spider-Woman's explanation. Although Spider-Woman was speaking quietly, Misty was impressed by the intensity of her voice. Misty prided herself on being a living bullshit detector, but from everything she could see Spider-Woman was entirely sincere.

Finally, she smiled.

"I'm afraid we don't have too much yet," Misty said slowly as she reached into a tray on her desk, "but come back in a week and I'll fill you in with what we've got. In the meantime, let us know if you hear about anything that you think might be of interest to us," she continued, pulling a Heroes For Hire business card out of the tray and handing it to Spider-Woman.

"Thank you," Spider-Woman said sincerely as she rose to leave. "I know how awkward this might seem."

"Honey, compared to the squabbles we get into with the cops and the superheroes we run into on our cases, this is nothin'. You take care now, you hear?" Misty grinned.

Spider-Woman left with a smile on her face, feeling as though a weight was lifted off her shoulders.

As the door shut behind Spider-Woman, Misty resumed her work, making a note to tell Luke and the rest of the team about Spider-Woman's interest in the bombings.

The kid's probably too naïve to really know what it's been like for our community, Misty realized, but her heart is in the right place, at least...

That evening...

"How was the Gloom Room A Go-Go, sir?" Wallace asked his boss as he strolled into the office.

"Hey, how many times do I have to tell you? Use my codename," the boss smirked back at Wallace.

"How was the Gloom Room, Crimewave?" Wallace repeated himself, recalling how his boss preferred to be called by his nickname. While codenames were most commonly used by costumed superheroes and villains, they had also become trendy among young mutants who did not actually use their powers to fight or commit crimes. As one of New York's most hip and trendy young male socialites and yuppies, it was only natural for Carl Wilkinson to adopt a nickname that reflected his lifestyle.

Despite his jet-set personality and affable demeanor, Wallace knew better than to make Crimewave repeat himself. Crimewave was one of New York's two surviving crime bosses, having survived the recent upheavals that had destroyed rival players like Silvermane and the Green Goblin, driven the Kingpin out of New York and slaughtered potential up-and-comers like Mr. Negative, Gavin Thorpe and Jason Tso. Philippe Bazin was the only other major crime lord to emerge unscathed, and he was not known for tolerating rivals that he would be able to destroy.

"I never thought the Beatles would ever sound so good," Crimewave smirked as he sat down at his desk, leaning back in his chair as he picked up his smartphone. "Of course, the hotties they recruited to do the dancing didn't exactly hurt things either," he continued, as he began opening up his e-mail account. "That place is really booming-I really wish I'd gotten the chance to invest in it. Maybe I can open up another location, or something..." he trailed off as he concentrated more intently on his own e-mail.

"Will there be anything else, Crimewave?" Wallace asked.

"...Huh?" Crimewave looked up with a start. "Oh, yeah-have Bert and his crew found out any more about this mysterious new crime boss I've been hearing about?"

"They sure have," Wallace replied. "They should have e-mailed their findings to you. Apparently the hits are all part of a larger pattern designed to destabilize the status quo, and allow the new guy to carve out a place for himself."

"Thanks for telling me something I already know," Crimewave sneered. "If that's the best Bert and his guys managed to come up with-"

"That new Scorpion lady is also working for him," Wallace added. "She's tied to at least six raids that we know are part of the larger effort to destabilize you and Bazin."

"How do you think they're getting so much information on us?" Crimewave asked, his good mood now gone entirely. "Is there some sort of information leak?"

"Not that we can discern," Wallace shook his head. "As near as Bert figures, many of our senior lieutenants are somehow being eavesdropped on. Damned if I know how, though-there's clearly some larger shit going on here. And no, there are no bugs or other recording devices at any of our hideouts that we've been able to find."

"So they must be talking in some sort of public place," Crimewave muttered to himself. "Maybe..."

Let's see if we can't use that, Crimewave thought, as his good mood began to return and a wide smile crossed his face. If we give them the right bait...

Starting a new e-mail, Crimewave smiled as he saw that Gorgeous George was still using the same e-mail account.

"How are these?" Kitty Pryde asked Jill Stacy, holding up a pair of brown suede boots.

"They're really cute," Jill shook her head, "but they're not worth that price. You'd be better off waiting until they're on sale..."

"They'll pinch your toes, too," Gwen pointed out as she came up to join them, having already paid for her purchases. "You should get the VP line-they're not just sexy, they're really comfy, too!"

"How do you know?" Jill asked her cousin in surprise.

"Because I was one of the lead models for their campaign," Gwen reminded her with a grin. "It was the 'why settle for one, when you can have both?' ads," she continued, referring to one of Vaughn-Pope Cosmetics's most recent campaigns. "Besides, you can see I'm practicing what I'm preaching," she grinned, holding out one of her feet. Looking down, Jill and Kitty could see that Gwen was already wearing a pair of VP boots on her feet, meshing very nicely with the skintight blue jeans she was wearing.

Eager for an edge in the fiercely competitive fashion world, Desiree Vaughn-Pope had decided to try and attack the traditional 'comfort vs. style' debate in fashion, banking on a new line of clothes that were sexy and comfortable all at once. Gwen had been lucky enough to keep a couple of the outfits Vaughn-Pope Cosmetics had paid her to model, and she'd already gotten some good mileage out of them.

"So you're saying we should just take your fashion advice from now on?" Liz Allen asked as she came up to join the rest of the girls.

"Have I ever been wrong before?" Gwen asked with a smirk.

"Well, no, but..." Liz trailed off, a half-smile crossing her face.

"So why start worrying now?" Gwen continued, her grin growing wider.

The rest of the girls burst into laughter along with Gwen. To all the world, she seemed perfectly at ease, enjoying a shopping trip for university clothes with her girlfriends before university started in the next couple of weeks.

Liz knew better, though.

"How are you doing, sweetie?" Liz asked Gwen as they sat down for a break some time later.

"I'm fine," Gwen assured her. "Why do you ask?"

"Because you're a bad liar, Gwen," Liz pointed out to her. "There's something bothering you, isn't there?"

"I..." Gwen trailed off, as a look of guilt flashed across her eyes. "It's..." she stammered, unable to form the words as her shoulders began to slump.

"Let me guess," Liz sighed. "You're really worried about Randy, and you feel guilty about shopping with us and having a good time while he's still upset, aren't you?" Gwen had told the rest of her friends a little about how upset Randy was, although there was clearly more to it than that.

"...I gave him a call this morning," Gwen finally said, "and he just brushed me off. He said he couldn't talk to me right now, and that he had a lot of work to do. I knew he was lying, but I didn't say anything..."

"...Why not?" Liz asked in astonishment. "What did you think he was doing? Is this like what happened with Harry?" she asked, referring to her boyfriend Harry Osborn. Harry had almost frozen Liz out of his life at one point, constantly meeting strange men in secret, and she feared he'd been doing something criminal to get back at his father, the sociopathic chemical tycoon Norman Osborn. As it turned out, Harry was actually meeting in secret to sell the shares of Osborn Industries that he owned, so that he could live independently from out of Norman's thumb.

"No, he's not having any kind of meetings or anything like that," Gwen shook her head. "He's just...it's almost like he's..." she trailed off again.

"...He's what, Gwen?" Liz asked in concern.

"He's just lost all the fire he used to have," Gwen continued. "He's just staying with his grandmother, holed up in his bedroom and reading a bunch of different books. It's almost like he's...I don't know, like he's given up! I want to help him, but he won't talk to me and so I try and do other things but then I feel guilty about not being there for him and I don't want to force him to do anything he doesn't want and I feel like I'm neglecting my other responsibilities and..." she finally stopped, a sad, frustrated expression on her face.

"Gwen, Randy wouldn't want you to be beating yourself up like this," Liz pointed out to her. "You've tried to be there for him, but if he won't talk to you, maybe he's just not ready yet. Does he know what's going to happen to his parents?"

Gwen just shook her head sadly.

"You can't just spend all your time worrying about him," Liz reminded Gwen. "You've got your own life to live, and if he was willing to talk to you he'd tell you the exact same thing. Come on, you know that."

"Yeah...but it doesn't make things any better, does it?" Gwen sighed as they got up.

Liz is right, though, Gwen thought to herself. I've nearly lost it more than once, and Randy was always there for me-but that didn't mean he spent all his time fretting over me.

Memories of her meeting with Misty Knight flashed across her mind.

Besides, even if I can't help him as Gwen, I can sure as hell help him as Spider-Woman, she reminded herself.

Liz took heart at the determined look on Gwen's face, as the fire returned to her eyes.

He was a man of wealth and taste, and he certainly looked the part. Clad in a beige-white suit with a dark blue necktie, gloves and hat, the man wore a ruby red rose in his lapel, adding a touch of refinement to his attire. The large bed of roses, arranged neatly in front of the window to one side of his desk, contrasted with the elegant furniture of the rest of the room, much as they did with the man and his clothing. There would have been more of a parallel between the man and the room, save for the red mask that covered the man's face. It made the man seem all the more connected to the roses, the flowers he found so fascinating and beautiful all at once.

If the Rose was perfectly calm and at ease in the refined settings, the tall woman who suddenly kicked the doors open and swaggered into the room was anything but. Clad in a dark green padded costume and matching facemask, with a set of vicious sharpened claws at the tips of her fingers. Even that wasn't as bizarre as the large mechanical tail attached to her back, which seemed to swing and twitch with a mind of its own. The large, wickedly serrated blade at the end of the tail sparkled in the afternoon sun shining in through the window, reflecting off the manic look in the eyes of Scorpia, as the woman preferred to be called herself. She was once known as Elaine Coll, but ever since the Rose had paid several million dollars for her to be gifted with superhuman abilities, she had preferred to go by her supervillain name.

"What's the latest report?" Scorpia demanded, sitting down and putting her feet up on the Rose's desk. Slithering up her chair like a snake, Scorpia's tail wrapped around her arm as she began lovingly stroking the murderous spike at the end of the tail. The tip was still dark red with blood, which Scorpia spent a few moments licking before she let her hand fall, her tail slithering off her arm in response before wrapping around one of her legs. "Is Julius finally ready to get the party started, or what?" She looked thoroughly bored, impatient with how slowly things were going.

"In due time," the Rose smiled, amused by Scorpia's impatience. "I've been to the place myself a few times already, and I can tell that it's not popular enough yet. Word of mouth is spreading, though, and I have no doubt Julius will handle the matter appropriately."

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" Scorpia rolled her eyes. "I'm just fucking bored here. I mean, how many more random assholes do I have to kill? When do I get to do something really fun, like have another fight with morsel?"

"...Morsel?" the Rose repeated slowly, raising an eyebrow.

"...Shit, did I just say that out loud?" Scorpia blinked in embarrassment, as she took her feet off the Rose's desk and her tail immediately recoiled and snapped to attention. "I didn't...I mean, I was talking about Spider-Woman!"

"And why, pray tell, did you refer to her as a 'morsel'?" the Rose asked in amusement.

"Come on, you've seen pictures of her," Scorpia smirked. "She makes such a good playmate, and I've missed her so much..."

The Rose smiled, his grin growing wider as he sat down at his desk.

"I hate to see you pout like that, you know," the Rose said, resting his head on one of his hands. "Indeed, perhaps there's something that I can do to help you pass the time before my plans are fully bloomed, so to speak. Would you be interested in running amuck in a public place, even more so than you already have?"

"Are there specific people I have to focus on killing?" Scorpia asked, her tail suddenly stiffening.

"Not this time," the Rose smiled. "Consider it my special little gift to you for all your hard work. You'll have to attack a certain place at a certain time of day, but after that the world's your oyster," he grinned widely.

"You seriously need some kind of great boss award," Scorpia grinned as she got to her feet, her tail briefly caressing the Rose's cheek as she turned away.

The Rose only laughed under his breath as Scorpia sauntered out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Business, politics, sports, crime...perception is always everything...always, as he shifted back into his natural form of Alistair Darkholme, alias the Chameleon.

Everyone thinks that my main goal is to carve parts of Crimewave's and Bazin's empires for myself, when that's nothing but a mask, a layer, a distraction. When Scorpia has her fun, it's much the same thing...who knows what I'd have to gain from such a random killing spree? They'll try to understand it, try to understand my thinking...

...when it's nothing more than a distraction, the beauty of the bloom that lures you in to be pricked by the thorns.

They'll be drawn out, expending their efforts in trying to crush me, when all they do is reveal more of their strengths and weaknesses to me.

They think they know me, when they see what I want them to see. They think they have my plans figured out, when they focus on the mask, ignoring the true intentions of my real face.

Let them try and unmask me, let them see who I am. I control their perceptions, just as I control my appearance, let them focus on the beauty and ignore the sharpness beneath.

Shifting back into his Rose form, Alistair Darkholme smiled.

Yes, it was good to be alive.

What is this new character's intent? Philippe Bazin wondered, staring intently out the window of his sumptuous mansion. Is it all simply about money and power? And why the roses? What does he intend them to symbolize? Are they sending some kind of message? Is he attempting to goad us into retaliating, and overplaying our hands prematurely?

Bazin knew that game well-he had played it many times before himself. By getting his opponents to strike first, Bazin could get a better measure of their strengths, before he too struck back.

Bazin's eyes flicked back towards one of the bookshelves that filled his office, most particularly to the large copy of Sun Tzu's The Art Of War that sat so near him.

That young fool Crimewave is too concerned with his prestige to not strike back against this new leader's provocations, Bazin thought to himself. He has clearly forgotten the importance of defending existing positions until one is capable of safely advancing from them, the dangers of head-on conflict and the need to exploit openings in the environment, if he ever knew them to begin with.

Of course, there's no reason to interrupt an enemy when he's in the process of making a mistake, Bazin realized. Indeed, I should act, but in a more appropriate way.

The only question is how, Bazin thought. My non-powered agents are either too unskilled or too valuable to lose so early in the game, so outside assistance is clearly required. And yet, most costumed operatives are far too blunt and straightforward to gather the intelligence I need...

And yet, serpents are known for both their wisdom and stealth, he thought to himself, smiling evilly.

"Come on in," Misty Knight greeted Spider-Woman as she came into the lobby of Heroes For Hire.

"So, what's the verdict?" Spider-Woman asked as they sat down.

"You don't beat around the bush, do you?" Misty smirked. "I gotta say, I like that. Unfortunately, I don't like what we've found out..."

"...What do you mean?" Spider-Woman asked, her voice turning deadly calm and serious.

"The bombings in Harlem weren't part of a racist plot," Misty shook her head. "They were part of some new crime outfit that wants to set up in New York."

"...What?" Spider-Woman asked in disgust and horror. "Why would they want to do that?"

"Damned if I know," Misty shrugged. "They've been pulling other kinds of shit with the mobs that already exist here, too, and leaving roses behind at the scenes."

"...Roses?" Gwen asked in astonishment.

"Weird, ain't it?" Misty shook her head. "Seems like a waste of good flowers to me. We're still trying to figure out what's up with the bombings, and how they fit into this new guy's plans."

"There's more to it, too," Spider-Woman replied, before explaining to Misty about her brutal battle with Scorpia more than a week and a half ago, and how Scorpia had alluded to her boss and the big plans he had for the city. To her surprise, that seemed to trouble the hardened Misty more than she would have expected.

"This is bad," Misty muttered as she put her head in her hand. "Whenever someone says they have big plans for this city, it usually means some kind of really bad shit is about to go down. And that usually means a lot of innocent people end up getting hurt. There are times when I really hate this fucking city..." she finished.

"That's not going to happen," Spider-Woman said determinedly as she stood up. "I won't let it happen!"

"Good luck," Misty said, a half-smile crossing her face as she looked up. "Believe me, honey, you're going to need it."

Spider-Woman only smiled back as she turned to leave.

Sitting in her office alone as Spider-Woman shut the door, Misty began to ponder what she had just seen.

Naïve kids thinking that the world can change just because they want it to, Misty mused to herself. Does she really think that she'll fix everything, just like that?

That thought brought back Misty's memories of her own younger years, when she thought that she would be able to turn the whole system upside down and make everything better for her community just by sheer willpower.

And I've accomplished a lot since then, Misty thought, but there's still way too much shit we have to go through these days...

Her memories shifted again, recalling images of Martin Luther King, of Frederick Douglass, of King T'Challa IV, better known as the Black Panther.

She took a deep breath at that.

"I'll definitely keep my eyes open," Peter Parker, alias the amazing Spider-Man, told Gwen as they talked on the phone that evening. "I can probably get in touch with guys like Daredevil and Moon Knight. I might run into Sleepwalker too, if I'm lucky."

"What do you mean, if you're lucky?" Gwen asked curiously. "Don't you know how to contact them?"

"I know where they tend to go, and I can try to meet them, but otherwise I don't know who they are or how I can get in touch with most of them. I know how I can reach Moon Knight, but he prefers that we only do it in an emergency. It's not like I can just call him up or e-mail him or something like that..."

"Why not?" Gwen wondered. "That's something I've always wanted to ask you about-why don't we superheroes team up more often, and cooperate more in what we do?"

"How much free time would you have to set something like that up?" Peter reminded her. "The Fantastic Four and the Heroes For Hire are the only superheroes in this city who do it full time. The rest of us all have our own lives to live. How many of these heroes would you be comfortable sharing your identity with?"

"I..." Gwen tried to answer, but realized just how leery she'd be at that.

"Exactly," Peter continued. "Besides, how do we know that we could even agree as heroes on what to do? And then there's the authorities-most of them only tolerate us because we're just a bunch of random people who are all doing the same thing on our own...and even that still gets a lot of people in high places leery about us. How do you think they'd react if we started coming together and laying out bigger agendas or something like that? The Heroes For Hire are a registered business, and the Fantastic Four have a lot of government friends, and they have to toe the line too."

"How did you figure all this out?" Gwen asked in astonishment.

"I didn't," Peter said, and Gwen could imagine him shaking his head at the thought. "I'm just repeating what Moon Knight told me back when I was the one suggesting we do something like this."

"That's too bad," Gwen sighed. "We could probably do a lot of good that way..."

"We'd probably cause more problems than we'd solve," Peter said, and now Gwen imagined him frowning. "Was there anything else?"

"No, I've got to get ready for work right away," Gwen explained. "Thanks a lot, though, Peter-it was good talking to you."

"No problem, Gwen," Peter assured her. "Take care now, alright?"

Try as she might to cheer herself up, Gwen felt in low spirits as she hung up the phone and went to get her work uniform. There didn't seem to be much she could do for Randy except possibly try and get more information on this mysterious new crime syndicate, and possibly act on it...and that was assuming that she would even be able to do something, given how badly she'd fared against Scorpia last time.

Don't beat yourself up about this, Gwen reminded herself yet again. Remember what you once told Peter after he saved his girlfriend Mary Jane, and what Liz told you just a few days ago? You can't let this consume you, and Randy doesn't want you to do that!

Performing at the Gloom Room A Go-Go that evening was an excellent way for Gwen to get her mind off her troubles. She was able to escape into the role, and she played it to perfection, rocking the dances with flawless skill and serving drinks with pitch-perfect efficiency. The evening went much more quickly for Gwen than she realized, and it was closing time before she knew it.

It was while she was emerging from the waitresses' change room in her street clothes, her uniform carried in her trusty tote bag, that Jonathan Caesar came up to her. As one of the club's main investors and a part-owner, Caesar had been the one to interview Gwen and give her the job.

"Nice work tonight, Gwen," Caesar grinned at her.

"Thank you, Mr. Caesar," Gwen smiled, nodding politely as she stopped to speak to him.

"You've been in a few plays and commercials, right?" he asked her.

"Yes I have," Gwen nodded back. "I haven't been in many roles recently, though."

"Why not?" Caesar asked.

"Well..." Gwen trailed off, not caring to recall the grudge that influential producer Carol Jannetty had against her. Ever since Gwen had snapped at her during a particularly bad day at her old job, and then stood up to Mrs. Jannetty on behalf of a salesman she was bullying, the older woman had had a grudge against Gwen and used her influence to prevent her from getting some good roles.

"Would you be interested in some indie work?" Caesar asked her. "I'm helping to sponsor some projects that some friends and I are involved in, and I could probably get you some parts. I don't know how much circulation we'll get, but..."

"Are you kidding?" Gwen asked brightly, a grin crossing her face. "Of course I would!"

"Great," Caesar smiled back. "I'll be sure to e-mail you the details. Will you be able to fit it into your university schedule?"

Gwen paled at those last two words, as her shoulders began to droop.

"What's wrong?" Caesar asked in concern.

"It's nothing, Mr. Caesar," Gwen sighed in frustration. "Don't worry, I'll be happy to be in your movies. I think I may have a lot of free time this semester."

The first thing Gwen did when she got home was to start up her computer and log into Empire State University's online course registration service. Entering into her profile, she began reviewing her class selections...

...and realized that she had only signed up for about half the courses she wanted for this semester. Several of the other ones she needed were already full, which meant that she would have to sign up for other ones at different times. Unfortunately, those classes conflicted with the other ones she'd initially signed up for, so she was going to have to start all over again and hope that she would be able to get all of the ones she needed. Frowning, she realized that she was probably going to have to reorganize her entire schedule, which wouldn't be easy considering that so many of the classes with the most convenient times and the best professors were already taken. That would have to wait until tomorrow, though-she was too tired to do it now.

...And the old Stacy luck strikes again, Gwen thought as she logged out of the registration service and shut off her computer. I'm so busy looking after Randy, modelling with Vaughn-Pope, working at the Gloom Room and fighting crime, that I forget to complete my damn university registration.

I don't need spider-powers, she continued as she got ready for bed, I need the power to clone myself.

(Next Issue: Gwen scrambles to finish scheduling her university classes, even as she tries to check in with Randy and prepares for her potential acting roles. Unfortunately, everything ends up taking a backseat when she becomes caught up in Crimewave's plans for vengeance on the rose, and ends up facing off against the Nasty Boys! All this and more in Spider-Woman #71: Nasty Boys Will Be Nasty Boys!)