Nightmares Can Come True

Isaiah and Louise Robertson looked as if every step was agony for them as they walked into the living room. Their complexions were pale and their expressions worn, but their eyes radiated determination as they walked in under their own power and sat down at the table. The rest of the Robertson family, including their son Randy and Isaiah's mother Martha, sat down with them. For the past few weeks, they had been in a coma after being seriously injured when they'd been caught in a bombing during a community rally in Harlem. There was genuine concern as to whether they would live or die, and while they still had a long way to go before they were fully recovered, they were not going to die.

For Gwen Stacy, who'd been invited by Randy and Martha to the family gathering, the news was welcome indeed. As the spectacular Spider-Woman, she'd tried to track down the mysterious parties responsible for the Harlem bombing, working with the Heroes For Hire. Neither she nor the Heroes had much luck so far, except to find that the bombings had been done by some new crime syndicate. So far as anyone could tell, the bombings were not a hate crime. Gwen was surprised to see how much that bit of news had lifted Randy's spirits, particularly after how angry he'd been at the thought of the bombings being racially motivated.

Even with everything else going on in her life-her junior year at Empire State University, her job at the Gloom Room A Go-Go, her ongoing feud with the psychotic supervillainess Scorpia and the art films she was now acting in-Gwen was determined more than ever to find out who was responsible for the bombings and bring them to justice.

That thought made her look at Randy, who looked as if he'd had the weight of the world lifted off his shoulders.

It's the least of what I owe you, she thought to herself.

You never let me down, and I promise you I won't let you down, either.

SPIDER-WOMAN #73

"NIGHTMARES CAN COME TRUE"

Completing her homework that afternoon and then reporting for the evening shift at the Gloom Room, Gwen was still somewhat surprised that she'd managed to keep on top of everything so far. She used to have a lot of problems juggling her schoolwork, her acting and modeling career, the needs of her family and friends and her superhero career, to the point that she'd once had a nervous breakdown when everything fell apart at once. That wasn't the case this year so far, although Gwen knew better than to become complacent about anything.

After she'd completed the first dance routine of the evening, Gwen was rotated to begin serving drinks. Her first drink order was to a pair of younger business-types, probably ten or twelve years older than Gwen herself, and a pair of older men in suits, probably investors or clients of the younger men's company.

"Hi there, and welcome to the Gloom Room!" Gwen said brightly as she nodded to them. "Can I get you anything to start?"

"Just some beers for us," one of the young men said, "and...what did you guys want?" he asked the older men they were sitting with.

"A 'Twist and Shout' for me," one of the older men replied, "and how about you, Sid?"

"A 'Light My Fire'," the man named Sid replied. "Somehow I doubt it'll be as good as your dancing was to that song, young lady," he continued with a grin.

"Thank you," Gwen smiled. "You're a fan of the Doors? That's a cool serpentine pendant you've got on there," she continued, referring to the pendant hanging around Sid's neck. "Mr. Morrison used to call himself the 'Lizard King'-is that a tribute to him?"

"Why, yes it is," Sid replied, brightening at Gwen's noticing it. "You're a Jim Morrison fan too?"

"I appreciate the impact he had on modern rock n' roll, and I really admire the way he made up poetry during concerts," Gwen replied brightly, smiling warmly at Sid. "So, was there anything else you wanted?"

"No, that should be good," the other older man said.

"Okay, we'll get that to you right away," Gwen assured him. "Nice waistcoat, too-it makes you look like Mick Jagger!"

Now, all four of the men were smiling broadly as Gwen left to take the next order. The older men had been flattered by her compliments, while the younger men were likely pleased that their clients were enjoying themselves.

Gwen just giggled to herself quietly, before she arrived at her next table.

Hate.

Hate of what I've become.

Hate of the people who made me what I am.

Hate of the fact that I had to wait so long for this day to come.

Hate.

Hate was all that kept me going as I reconstituted myself.

Hate was what gave me the strength to continue.

Hate was what drove me to seek my revenge.

Hate.

Hate of those who wronged me will finally be sated.

Hate of those who get in my way will be the reason they die.

Hate of those who thwarted my vengeance the last time will make them my next target.

At five feet and ten inches, the woman would have been an imposing sight even without her green padded costume and the wickedly pointed mechanical tail that was attached to her back. Her eyes shone brightly with a manic light, one that was accented by the constant waving of her gloved hands, ending in deadly slashing claws, and the tail, that seemed to slither and writhe all over her with a mind of its own. Scorpia was uncharacteristically calm, the leer of wry amusement that she normally wore nowhere to be seen. Instead, she was sitting almost perfectly still, seemingly unaware of anything around her.

The constant flexing of her clawed fingers, and the back-and-forth sweepings of her tail, however, reflected the anxiety she was feeling. Her most recent assignment, to assassinate the daughter of New York's police commissioner, had been botched by Spider-Woman's interference. While Scorpia had enjoyed her battles with the web-slinging beauty, and took particular pleasure in goading Spider-Woman with come-ons, she was seething in anger at the fact that Spider-Woman's interference had caused her to fail her boss's assignment.

Looking up at the sound of a door opening in the far wall, Scorpia's eyes narrowed as she contemplated the man coming in to join her. His attire reflected the tasteful décor of the room, including the large bed of roses off to one side. His white silk suit and dark blue gloves, necktie and facemask were haute couture, a perfect fit to his surroundings and perfectly accented with the rose in his lapel. Indeed, the Rose was how he was commonly known, the persona by which he hoped to establish himself as the third major crimelord in New York.

The Rose said nothing as he sat down at his desk, although Scorpia knew full well what was on his mind. They sat in silence for a few minutes, before he finally spoke.

"I take it things didn't go too well?" he asked in a calm, flat tone.

"It was Spider-Woman," Scorpia replied, staring at the floor. "That little bitch completely ruined everything! I swear, when I get my tail into her..."

"And here I thought she was a good playmate," the Rose replied sardonically.

Scorpia looked up at that.

"She broke my heart," Scorpia hissed. "She ruined my fun, she made me let you down! My little morsel turned..." she trailed off.

"My garden is almost in full bloom," the Rose said, "and soon everything will be in place. Crimewave and Philippe Bazin won't be able to stop me," he continued. "This, despite Spider-Woman's continued interference. Not only has she confronted you twice, but she's also been colluding with the Heroes For Hire to try and discover more information about our plans. She confronted the Nasty Boys when they were at that sting Crimewave planned for our operatives, and likely escaped with further knowledge," he continued.

Although his face was concealed by his mask, Scorpia could almost feel the murderously angry expression the Rose was likely wearing.

"Do you know what a good gardener does with weeds?" he asked Scorpia slowly, an eerie calm in his voice. "He takes the weed, and rips it up by the roots, tearing the very life out of it. It is no more than worthless trash, to be burned or thrown away as the gardener chooses."

"You mean..." Scorpia began.

"Yes, I do," the Rose replied calmly. "But we won't tear this little weed up just yet-the garden has to be in full bloom before that occurs."

"And what if Spider-Woman mucks things up even more before that?" Scorpia demanded.

The Rose turned to stare at Scorpia, and this time she was convinced he was smiling under his mask.

"Well then, that will just give me more motivation to have her torn apart, piece by bloody piece, before she dies, won't it?"

"Not before I get to have one last little playdate, right?" Scorpia asked eagerly, as her tail stood up straight.

"You'll be able to have as much time with your little morsel as you like," the Rose assured her.

Now Scorpia knew he was smiling under his mask.

He could have passed for the Devil himself, his dark, smouldering eyes, waxed moustache and goatee meshing with his perfectly tailored suits to give him an air of diabolic sophistication, which was only heightened by his office, filled with both tasteful objets d'art and a variety of thick books. All of this was deliberate, of course, meant to heighten the aura of sophistication and refinement-and menace-that he carried.

Philippe Bazin had mastered that art long ago.

The young woman sitting opposite him looked young enough to be his daughter, although her face reflected the experience of one who had years of practice in dealing with powerful older men. Her long dark hair, black Kevlar leotard, armored gauntlets and boots, and the dark green serpent-shaped tiara on her head only reinforced the fact that she had perfected her charms long ago.

Tanya Sealy, now better known as Black Mamba, sat with the practiced ease of someone comfortable with her surroundings and her abilities.

Looking for an edge in the intrigues that had arisen since the mysterious new crime lord had sought to carve a place for himself in the New York underworld, Philippe Bazin had sought out the superhuman mercenary company that called itself the Serpent Society for assistance. In particular, he'd sought the help of Black Mamba, who possessed the ability to shape the bizarre and deadly Darkforce energies into the images of the most cherished loved ones of the minds of anyone she read. Using those images to lure her victims in, Black Mamba could then further read their thoughts before snuffing them out completely. Her talents had already been used more than once for murder, suffocating her targets and leaving no tangible evidence behind. While she had been previously defeated by Spider-Woman, like all of her Serpent Society colleagues she'd also been teleported out of prison by Sidewinder, the group's leader.

Now she was in Philippe Bazin's employ as a spy. In particular, Bazin was employing her to entrance and read the mind of one Oswald P. Silkworth, who was an important lieutenant to one of Bazin's rivals, the yuppie crime boss Crimewave. Every time he had gone home, Silkworth had been continually bewitched by Mamba's abilities, revealing information to what he was convinced was a memory of his dearly departed wife Doris. Now, she was providing her latest reports to Bazin, so that he would know what Crimewave's plans were.

"You previously reported that Crimewave's soldiers were getting nervous," Bazin said calmly. "I presume that Crimewave has taken appropriate precautions?"

"More than that," Black Mamba explained, a thin smile crossing her lips. "Crimewave discovered that this new player was planning some sort of attack on his computer networks, and he managed to stop it. More than that, he traced much of the information back to its source, through something Silkworth called 'Network Q'. Then he began reading this new upstart's files..."

"...Indeed," Bazin replied. He kept a stoic front, but Black Mamba could see the interested gleam in his eyes.

"Everything's coming to a head very soon," she explained. "Somehow, this new mob boss is going to try to gain control of many of the most powerful people in the city. Crimewave plans to spoil his efforts, though."

"And how does he plan to do that?" Bazin asked.

"Crimewave didn't tell Silkworth, unfortunately," Black Mamba shook her head. "And no, he didn't explain how this new mob boss is going to try to gain control of so many powerful people."

Bazin's eyes narrowed at that. One of the main reasons that Crimewave had continued to thrive in the New York crime scene was because, for all his outgoing attitudes, he had an uncanny knack for playing things close to the vest when necessary. Bazin admired that trait, and respected Crimewave more than he did other former rivals like Mr. Negative or Silvermane because of it.

"He didn't say anything at all?" Bazin persisted, knowing full well that Crimewave wouldn't have left it at that. Silkworth was Crimewave's "arranger", and he would not have been left without the information necessary to do his job.

"All Silkworth would say was that it involved someone codenamed 'Julius'," she replied.

"...Julius..." Bazin mumbled at that, pondering what exactly that meant, before he looked up at Black Mamba again.

"You have nothing else to report?" he demanded.

"No, that's all," Black Mamba replied.

"You're dismissed, then," Bazin said calmly. "Tell Sidewinder that the payment will be forwarded to the Society's account tomorrow morning."

Black Mamba nodded, and she left the room, typing on her wrist communicator to have Sidewinder come and teleport her back to Society headquarters.

Bazin pondered what Black Mamba had just told him. What was this 'Julius' thing referring to?

A betrayal, as per the Ides of March and the betrayal of Julius Caesar?

Some high-placed figure, who had power and influence much like the real-life Caesar did?

Someone with the actual name of Julius or Caesar?

Bazin did not know, and there was too little evidence to really decide, anyway. Not that it bothered him-Sun Tzu had long emphasized the need to make quick and appropriate responses to a rapidly changing environment. Too much planning, and even more so too many moving parts, could lead to disaster.

Far better, for now, to see if Crimewave or this new usurper struck, and then react appropriately.

Depending on the circumstances, Bazin would then strike.

A devilish smile crossed his face as he looked at the fire roaring in his grate.

Fire burned away the deadwood, destroyed anything too sick or weak to fight it or get out of its way, and paved the way for new growth.

He liked fire.

He liked it a lot.

Felicia Hardy swallowed another dose of the snap pills, before falling back on the bed. She began to laugh at the ecstatic feeling the snap gave her, her entire body shaking as if she was being electrocuted. Staring vacantly at the ceiling, Felicia seemed entirely unaware of the world around her, focusing solely on something only she could see.

She was so wrapped up in the bliss the snap imparted on her, that she didn't hear the approaching footsteps or the voice.

"Look babe, I realized I probably went overboard a couple of days ago, so...Jesus Christ," Angelo Fortunato cursed as he came into the room and saw Felicia laying prone on the bed, an empty box of snap pills in her hand. Her body was still shaking, making look as though she was having an epileptic fit. Bending down for a closer look, Angelo could see the way Felicia's teeth chattered, her shrunken pupils, the myriad of tiny bruises all over her back and the stringy appearance of her platinum blond hair.

Goddammit, Angelo cursed again as he rubbed his face. Just how much of that shit has she been taking? She's probably going to need to get her stomach pumped, so...

...You know what? Angelo thought to himself. Fuck her-she's been a leech ever since she got her hooks into me. I was right to knock some sense into her-she went behind my back and ordered more of our snap. If she's going to blow so much money, let her spend her own-I have enough to worry about.

For a moment, Angelo wondered if he should let Scorpia deal with Felicia.

No, he decided after thinking about it for a moment. Not even Felicia deserves that. That crazy psycho bitch...

Angelo shuddered.

I'll have her brought to my place tomorrow when she's sober, Angelo thought. One bullet is all it takes, and...

Smiling to himself, Angelo turned and left Felicia's apartment, leaving her to stew in her own bliss.

Almost immediately after the door slammed, a chill filled Felicia's bedroom. Anyone who had been in the room and not been hallucinating from the effects of the snap would have noticed a thick fog materializing in the air, seemingly having awaited Angelo's departure. All around Felicia, the fog thickened and expanded, until the entire room seemed to be a gray haze, resembling a vague, half-remembered dream.

Felicia was entirely ignorant of it all, still caught up in the high she was getting from her snap pills. The fog seemed to hang in the air for a moment, as if contemplating Felicia's state, before it coalesced around her, coming down to her level.

Felicia sat straight up on the bed as she did that, suddenly looking around the room with eyes that had dramatically dilated. Old memories fought to break through the drug-induced euphoria, memories of a night that had gone horribly wrong, an effort to conceal the evidence of a sickening crime, a pact to never reveal to anyone what had happened, and the nightmarish revenge their victim sought on them.

Soon, Felicia was reliving all of it.

She relived how she and her friends had made the life of the socially awkward Brigid O'Reilly, child of a broken home, a living hell at Midtown High.

She relived how, in the course of playing a particularly humiliating prank on Brigid, Brigid had overdosed on snap.

She relived how she and her friends had broken into an Osborn Industries chemical plant and dumped Brigid's corpse in a tank of powerful chemical solvents, expecting them to dissolve her body.

She relived how Brigid, having been mutated into a horrific creature by a combination of the snap and the chemicals, had sought revenge on her killers, murdering them all except for Felicia, who had only survived due to the interference of the costumed crimefighter Spider-Woman.

She realized that Brigid, alias Mayhem, was now in her mind, all around her body, and that she was done for.

Felicia began to scream, as the full comprehension of what was about to happen dawned on her.

At last...at long last...

It's payback time, Felicia...

You were the one who put me through hell...

And gave me the gifts to return from hell and take you all back with me...

Mayhem began to overwhelm Felicia's mind, filling her with pain, with horror, with fear, with all the emotions she'd used to kill the rest of Felicia's high school clique. All of Mayhem's hate was directed towards that single objective, intending to destroy Felicia's heart, mind and soul, anything and everything that made her Felicia Hardy.

And yet, Felicia's mind did not shatter.

Frustration began to set in, replaced by worry, as Mayhem realized that something was very wrong.

Both women's minds were linked, and at that moment they both recalled the strange mutagenic properties of snap, the drug that had given Mayhem her powers.

The drug that was flooding through Felicia's system.

Hate me...torture me...kill me...Felicia thought, her mental voice ringing clearly to Mayhem through their psychic connection.

You think you hate me...but have you ever stopped to think of how much I hate you? Felicia thought back to Mayhem. How much I wish you hadn't died so I could make your life even more of a hell than it already was by uploading that video to the Internet? How much I lamented that Marie-Ange Colbert wasn't as much fun to torture as you? How much pleasure I feel every time I think of Spider-Woman blasting you with that electrified sign?

And you serious expect to frighten me to death, especially with all the snap I'm so high on, the same snap that gave you your powers?

How about I show you what real fear is like?

Mayhem struggled to fight back, but soon the two women were locked in a mental struggle.

All of the fog in the room was suddenly absorbed into Felicia's body, as she began shuddering violently.

Screaming loudly, she collapsed on the bed and lay there for a long moment.

Her eyes opened.

A wide smile crossed her face.

Relaxing on the couch with a drink in hand, Angelo pondered the exhausting day and wondered which of his current assignments he should work on first tomorrow. There was everything to do with the Gloom Room A Go-Go next week, and so he would have to...

...Angelo immediately forgot everything when he considered the gorgeous babes the Gloom Room had hired as its dancers and waitresses, especially that smoking hot blonde he'd seen there. He couldn't quite remember what her name was, but then it didn't really matter-her rack, her ass and her legs were all first rate, and if he flashed enough green, it wouldn't long before he had her in the sack.

The breaking of his bedroom window made him stand up in alarm. Picking up his gun, he immediately dashed into his room, briefly wondering if Crimewave or Bazin had figured out who he was, and had sent somebody to finish him off. To his amazement, he saw Felicia standing there, grinning wickedly as she stood amidst the broken glass of the broken window.

"Felicia?" Angelo said in astonishment. "What the hell are you doing here? How the hell did you..."

What can I say? Felicia sneered. I just keep coming back to you...

"You...I..." Angelo stammered, not entirely sure what to say.

Felicia smiled, as she began to emanate a wave of greyish fog.

Suddenly realizing that something was very, very wrong, Angelo turned to run, but the mist suddenly surged forward and engulfed him completely.

Looking all around, he could see nothing but the grey mist, now suffused with unhealthy patches of green that shifted and flowed all around him. Through the fog, he looked like he could see two figures, one of whom he did not know but the other he recognized as Felicia.

"Felicia...Jesus...What are you..." Angelo stammered, before he screamed as he felt something tear into his mind. The images he'd been thinking about, the Gloom Room and the blonde waitress, flashed before his eyes, as did his thoughts about having Felicia killed.

Stepping out on me, are we? Felicia observed wryly. I thought you wanted me to remember who the real sugar daddy was in our relationship. I always held up my end of the bargain, Angelo, even when your performance was so bad you didn't deserve to call yourself a man.

And now you're lusting after that blonde bitch Gwen? Felicia continued, her anger intensifying to the point that Angelo could almost feel it. I could have forgiven anything else, Angelo-anything else!-but you're wanting to keep time with Gwen? You think you can just win her over with all your fancy money and your bad-boy image? You think I'm no better than she is?

"Felicia, please, for the love of God..." Angelo pleaded, as he looked around desperately, hoping to find some avenue of escape.

You had a good thing going, you son of a bitch, Felicia said angrily as she stepped towards him. You could have me whenever you wanted, you could make me do whatever you wanted, and I put up with your shooting blanks. Here's the thing, though-I decide when I'm done with a guy. Why the hell do you think I chose to have you bomb that Harlem rally?

"Felicia, please..." Angelo begged.

He begged, and then he screamed.

He was a long time dying.

He only stopped screaming towards the end.

Gwen sighed as she emerged from the Gloom Room A Go-Go's staff entrance, weary from another long day of studying for her university classes and working at the Gloom Room. With the way her schedule had been messed up because of how late she'd waited to register for her classes, Gwen often found herself going back and forth between the Gloom Room and Empire State University, pulling in some extra hours or getting caught up on her homework depending on how much of it she had. So far, she had been keeping on top of everything, but she was already feeling the strain, and when she began acting in that set of indie films being sponsored by Jonathan Caesar next week, it wasn't going to get any easier for her.

At least nothing's gone too wrong so far, she thought to herself with a smile. Maybe the old Stacy luck has finally...

...I knew I spoke too soon, she realized as she saw Felicia Hardy coming towards her. I wonder what the hell she wants?

"And here I thought you were the other type of working girl," Felicia said mockingly as she came up to Gwen, who just rolled her eyes.

"Get lost, Felicia," Gwen said in disgust. "I don't have anything to say to you. What the hell are you even doing here, anyway?"

"What, I can't walk down the street and say hello to an old friend?" Felicia asked, grinning like a cat playing with a particularly delicious mouse. Looking around, her smile grew wider as she realized that there was no one else on the street besides them. The only people still on the premises were Renata and the rest of the club's senior management, and they still had some work to do. Most of the other shops were also closed for the night.

"...What do you want, Felicia?" Gwen demanded, suddenly realizing that Felicia's appearance was probably not a coincidence.

Felicia's smile grew all the wider, as her eyes turned a blank grey and she began emanating a thick fog that quickly surrounded Gwen. Gwen's eyes widened in horror, as the memories of her confrontation with Mayhem, the thing that had once been Brigid O'Reilly, suddenly flashed through her mind.

Then, suddenly, she saw the fog suffused with flashes of sickly green, pale ash gray and chalk white, and saw not one but two figures staring at her. One was Felicia Hardy, grinning like a demon, and the other was a beaten and subdued figure that Gwen recognized as Brigid O'Reilly. Once again, her memories of confronting Mayhem as Spider-Woman flashed through her mind...

...and she realized that she wasn't the only one seeing them.

Well, well, well... Felicia said, her eyes narrowing with hate as her smile vanished. This is certainly unexpected, isn't it? I never would have given you credit for this, Stacy-but then again, you have all this power, and you just let it all go to waste. Just think of what you could have gotten out of all of it...sort of like what I'm doing now...

"You know what happened to Mayhem the first time I fought her, right?" Gwen gasped, doing her best to keep the shock and dismay she felt at Felicia learning her most cherished secret from overwhelming her.

And I know that you know too much, Felicia sneered. That's why this is where it all ends. And to think-I'm going to achieve what a dozen stone cold killers never could...

Grinning wickedly, Felicia shared the images of what she'd done to Angelo Fortunato with Gwen.

However, that wasn't the only thing the three women saw.

Gwen saw Felicia's memories of her conversations with Angelo.

"Felicia, please, for the love of God..." Angelo pleaded, as he looked around desperately, hoping to find some avenue of escape.

You had a good thing going, you son of a bitch, Felicia said angrily as she stepped towards him. You could have me whenever you wanted, you could make me do whatever you wanted, and I put up with your shooting blanks. Here's the thing, though-I decide when I'm done with a guy. Why the hell do you think I chose to have you bomb that Harlem rally?

Gwen felt a thrill of horror course through her, as she realized the implications of what she'd just seen.

You...you're responsible for all this...you made the mob do that bombing?! she thought in amazement and disgust.

Like I told Angelo, I decide when I'm done with a guy, Felicia shot back. That's what Randy should have remembered...after all, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, right?

Other memories passed into Gwen's mind as she absorbed them from Felicia's, but all Gwen could think of at that moment was Felicia's responsibility for the act that had killed so many innocent people, and nearly killed so many more.

You...you... Gwen thought to herself, as Felicia recoiled in surprise.

What the hell are you... she began.

Images flooded through the fog, images that filled Gwen with horror.

Kitty Pryde held her head in her hands, screaming at the endless anti-mutant slurs and the images of Sentinels and Reavers coming to kill her and her family.

Driven mad with grief, she hurled herself off the highest building she could find, making sure to keep herself solid when she hit the ground.

Gwen's cousin Jill, her mother Helen and her Aunt Nancy turned on each other with kitchen knives, slowly tearing one another apart in a mutual bloodletting.

Blood flowed everywhere, and the Stacy women screamed in pain, singing a perverse music to go along with their shared agony.

Gwen herself was forced to perform all manner of disgusting acts, her body a helpless puppet in Felicia's hands.

Gwen was helpless as someone else took control and forced her to do things she never would have chosen to do, even as she felt an intense shame and horror at what she could do nothing to avoid.

Gwen's old enemies, foes like Will O' the Wisp, the Brothers Grimm, Firebrand, Joystick and Netshape, ran amuck through the city and slaughtered all of the places and people Gwen cared about, eager for revenge against anyone or anything associated with the superheroine whose true identity they now knew.

All of these people suffered needlessly, their only "crime" knowing Gwen.

Gwen fought back fiercely, mustering the same willpower she had against Brigid O'Reilly the first time they'd fought almost a year ago. She knew that Felicia had every intention of doing every one of the things she was showing Gwen, hijacking her the same way she'd hijacked Brigid's powers as Mayhem. Gwen's heart was pounding frantically, trying to keep up the resistance, but she couldn't seem to make any headway against Felicia's relentless pressure.

That's the thing, sweetie, Felicia laughed triumphantly. Brigid didn't really hate you as Spider-Woman, so you could fight her off more easily. Not me, though-do you even know how much I hate you? How much I've longed to make your life a living hell? How much I've been waiting for an opportunity like this?

Gwen stubbornly refused to give in, refused to buckle under the pressure.

I can keep this up all day, honey, Felicia grinned evilly.

How can I...not alone...but... Gwen thought to herself.

Brigid! Gwen screamed mentally at the subdued Brigid O'Reilly, who had remained sitting off in the distance, helplessly watching the scene.

Brigid, you've got to help me! Gwen called out. Please!

I can't...she's...too...powerful... Brigid replied.

At least one of you is smart enough, Felicia sneered. I can-

Are you just going to let her win? Gwen interrupted, ignoring Felicia's words. She's the cause of all this! She ruined your life and turned you into Mayhem! And she's not just going to stop with ruining our lives-you saw how many people she plans to kill! This is all her fault, and she's going to get away with it!

Brigid's body became more solid in the mist, as she got to her feet. Slowly, she advanced, a furious look on her face as she stared at Felicia.

You...you... Felicia began, angered at Brigid's rise.

Get...out...of...my...head... Gwen thought, gathering all her strength for one final push.

GET OUT!

Gwen slumped to her knees in exhaustion, as the fog shifted away from her. She could see two forms wrestling in the fog now, as Felicia and Brigid wrestled for control of their shared Mayhem body. Felicia struggled, having already expended so much of her energy fighting Gwen, but Brigid had gotten a second wind, all of her anger and loathing focused on Felicia, the cause of all her suffering.

To Gwen's horror, she saw the two women rise up and fly across the street, crashing into an electrified sign. The fog bank glowed with electricity, tearing through Mayhem's body, even as Brigid got the upper hand over Felicia. She forced Felicia back into the sign, and Felicia's screams tore through the night, echoing in Gwen's ears. Felicia was fighting back, but this time Brigid was back in full control, more experienced by far with their powers.

The sign finally exploded, releasing a final wave of fog before fading altogether. Despite herself, Gwen inhaled a wisp of that fog, and her mind filled with images.

In her mind's eye, she saw Brigid standing over Felicia, slumped on the ground. Gwen could sense they were dying, now so charged with energy that they would never be able to reconstitute themselves. Felicia was nearly gone, and Brigid wasn't far behind her, and Gwen realized that they were never coming back. This was Brigid's final goodbye, a way to ensure Gwen's peace of mind that Felicia would never return.

Brigid's gift turned out to be more than that, though.

Gwen's thoughts shifted to some of Felicia's memories, which she'd seen through their mental link. She hadn't focused on them, of course, but now they came flooding back...

...memories of what this Angelo Fortunato person had told Felicia.

The image of a masked man called the Rose, and the locations of many of his operations and safehouses.

The man who ultimately gave the nod to commit the Harlem bombings, who turned Scorpia loose on dozens of innocent victims, and who had committed any number of other crimes to carve out a piece of the New York criminal pie for himself.

Sadness, relief, anger and determination all fought for dominance in Gwen's mind. She was relieved that Felicia was gone for good, sad that Brigid had suffered so much in life, angry at the Rose's depravity and determined to do something about it.

She had the ability, and she had the knowledge.

It was time to talk to the police, and the Heroes For Hire.

(Next Issue: The Rose has been a careful and meticulous planner to this point, slowly and carefully cultivating his criminal empire. However, when Spider-Woman gains knowledge through means he could never have foreseen, the Heroes For Hire and the New York Police Department begin striking back at his operations. The Rose plans to turn the tables with his master plan of mentally enslaving many of the city's leaders, but Crimewave sends some of the Nasty Boys to spoil the party, and Spider-Woman becomes caught in the crossfire! All this and more in Spider-Woman #74: Equal and Opposite Reaction!)