Spider, Spider, Burning Bright

"Are you sure you want to do this, Gwen?" Helen Lieber-Stacy asked doubtfully as her daughter handed over the cheque.

"Of course I am," Gwen Stacy blinked in surprise. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Just how much money did you make working at the Gloom Room, anyway?" Helen replied, referring to the Gloom Room A Go-Go, the '60s retro nightclub that Gwen had been working at as a waitress before the place had been wrecked by the supervillain gangbangers who called themselves the Nasty Boys.

"I made enough," Gwen shrugged. "Seriously Mom, why are you so worried about this? I'm just trying to help the family out..." she continued, not quite certain what her mother was getting at.

"I know you are," Helen nodded, "but-"

"-but we've got to pay university tuition for me and Jill," Gwen interrupted, referring to her cousin Jill Stacy, "utility bills, property taxes, groceries and all those other things," she continued. "I'm sorry about the Gloom Room, but once I find another job I should be able to-"

"No, Gwen, you don't need to be giving us this much money!" Helen insisted, reaching out and covering Gwen's mouth before she could protest. "You have things you need to do too-and you're not getting another job right now, either."

"But -" Gwen protested.

"-but you're going to drive yourself crazy if you keep pushing yourself like this, Gwen. Again," Helen reminded her. "And don't give me any of that bull about how everything's all right-I know that it isn't."

"Yes it..." Gwen began before she trailed off, remembering how many other people had seen through her attempts to reassure them that nothing was wrong. Her friend Liz Allan had been merely the first one to actually point out what a bad liar she could be, unable to entirely conceal her inner turmoil.

"So what's wrong, honey?" Helen asked, a thin smile crossing her face.

"Lots of things," Gwen explained, before touching briefly on the problems she'd been having at school, her being blamed for the slow progress of the indie film she was appearing in, the grief she'd unwittingly given Randy and the fact that she'd failed as Spider-Woman to keep the Gloom Room from getting wrecked and prevented a number of innocent people from getting killed by the Nasty Boys.

"And how much of that is really your fault?" Helen asked her. "Rationally, I mean."

"Not all of it, I know," Gwen admitted reluctantly. "But I just can't help but feel like it is."

"That's the thinking that nearly drove you crazy, remember?" Helen reminded her. "You shouldn't be doing this to yourself, Gwen. You might have super-powers, but you're Spider-Woman, not Superwoman," Helen continued, referring to Gwen's superheroic alter ego as the spectacular Spider-Woman.

"So what am I supposed to do?" Gwen asked. "I can't just leave the rest of you hanging, and I still need to-"

"For one thing, Nancy and I are the ones who are supposed to be looking after most of the bills," Helen pointed out, referring to Gwen's aunt Nancy Stacy, "and if we need any extra help we can ask you. But for now, I'm not so sure the Gloom Room being wrecked is an entirely bad thing."

"What do you mean?" Gwen asked in shock.

"Well, for one thing it gives you some extra time to deal with the other issues you're having," Helen explained. "And more than that, it gives you a bit of a chance to relax. When was the last time you actually took some time to unwind with your friends?" Helen asked.

"I..." Gwen trailed off. "I'm really not sure, to be honest."

"Exactly," Helen pointed out. "You've done more than enough saving the world for the time being-you deserve a break!"

"Thanks, Mom," Gwen hugged her mom tightly in appreciation.

You're right about everything, as usual, Gwen thought to herself, but there's still something I need to take care of before I do anything else.

It's the least of what I owe Randy...

SPIDER-WOMAN #76

"SPIDER, SPIDER, BURNING BRIGHT"

Gwen had already tried to visit her boyfriend Randy Robertson to see how he was doing after she'd unwittingly revealed that Felicia Hardy had arranged the bombing that had nearly killed his parents to get back at him for rejecting her. Unfortunately, she'd been prevented from doing so by Randy's mother Louise, who'd mistakenly assumed Randy was devastated by Gwen cheating on him, given that he'd come back from a date with Gwen. Louise had grievously insulted Gwen, calling her a whore and warning her to stay away from her son, and Gwen couldn't explain the real situation without giving away her secret identity.

Fortunately, the spider-powers she typically used to fight crime as a superheroine had other uses. She was now crawling down the back of the Robertsons' townhouse towards the window to Randy's room, to check if he was there. Instead of climbing up the fire escape, which had a much bigger risk of Randy's parents seeing her, she'd instead used her wall-crawling abilities to ascend to the roof of another nearby building when no one was around, before coming over to the roof of the Robertsons' place and then coming down when she had heard that Randy's parents going down the stairs.

Looking into Randy's window, she saw him lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He was so still, and so silent, that for a moment Gwen felt a chill of fear, wondering if he was dead. His eyes moved to blink, but aside from that he still didn't move. Focusing on his eyes, Gwen's fear turned to dismay, as she saw that the fiery passion they so often held, the passion and spirit she loved so much about him, seemed like it was gone.

He might not have been dead physically, but without that inner fire, he might as well have been dead.

I'll be damned if that happens, Gwen shook her head, as she knocked on the window.

Randy still didn't move at first, his eyes flickering over towards the window in response to his knocking, but they suddenly widened in surprise as they caught sight of Gwen. Rising up from the bed, he came over and opened the window, letting Gwen into his room.

"...Gwen?" Randy said slowly. "What are you doing here?"

"I was worried about you," Gwen replied, taking Randy's hands in hers. "I came by to see how you were holding up."

"About as well as I deserve to," Randy said, his shoulders slumping.

"What do you mean, you deserve to?" Gwen asked in astonishment. "You can't seriously-"

"It was all my fault, Gwen," Randy interrupted her, unable to look her in the eye. "Felicia nearly killed my parents, she murdered so many innocent people in the community, all because of me! I'm the one responsible for this!"

"No, you're not!" Gwen insisted. "How can you possibly say that?"

"Because it's true," Randy replied. "I was the reason she did it all-she wanted to get back at me. If I hadn't made her angry the way I did..."

Gwen just stared back at Randy in disbelief.

"So you should have just done whatever she told you to, and accepted that it was all your fault when you got punished? Gee, where have I heard that bullshit before?" she asked, more heatedly this time.

"What are you talking about?" Randy blinked in surprise.

"I'm talking about what you told me back at the theatre, when we were auditioning for The Wiz together," Gwen reminded him. "I'm talking about how you said black people internalized all the stereotypes and the hate, the feeling that they were second-class. I don't know nearly as much about this stuff as you do, but I've been listening to you talk about how much changing that meant to you, and how much The Wiz meant to you because of what it represents-how people let themselves believe all the bad things they're told about themselves. You told me all that, Randy-so why are you buying into the same old crap now?"

Randy recoiled in surprise at that, a look of astonishment on his face.

"You..." he trailed off. "But Felicia, she..."

"Felicia was rotten to the core," Gwen interrupted him. "If she hadn't fixated on you the way she did, she would have gone after some other guy. Your friends aren't the only deaths she's responsible for-remember what I told you about Brigid O'Reilly?" she continued. "Felicia was responsible for that, too. She was the problem here Randy, not you!"

Randy seemed torn and uncertain, but Gwen wasn't ready to give up yet.

"Do you blame me for all the mistakes I've made as Spider-Woman?" she asked him. "Putting myself at risk, not being able to save everyone I've tried to protect, even though I've tried? Even with all that-with all that!-you've shown you still believe in me..."

Randy looked as if he wasn't sure what to say.

"...So why have you stopped believing in yourself, when none of this is your fault?" Gwen finally asked him.

Randy blinked several times, as if still trying to digest Gwen's words.

"You know I'm right, Randy-you know because you've been the one telling me these things," Gwen continued, a forceful tone in her voice. "The only ones to blame for everything your family and friends have gone through are Felicia Hardy and the guy who organized the bombing. They're both dead, and God willing they're both burning in Hell for it. But you still have your whole life ahead of you, Randy, and you shouldn't throw it away for something you're not even responsible for!"

Sitting down on his bed, Randy took a deep breath as he rubbed his eyes.

"...Randy, are you okay?" Gwen asked with a combination of hesitation and hope.

"...I just need some time to think, kiddo," Randy finally said. "But thanks for everything-I mean it."

"How many times have you been there for me?" Gwen grinned, as she winked at him. "I'm just doing what you've always done for me," she continued as she turned to leave.

As she crawled back up to the Robertsons' roof to leave without being seen, Gwen could only hope that her efforts had paid off.

That was when she remembered that, at the end of her conversation, he had called her kiddo.

She smiled at what that meant.

Gwen intended to take her mother's advice to relax, but not just yet. She knew she needed to catch up on her studies, particularly after the hash she'd made of her last Drama assignment and the way she'd embarrassed herself in her Women's Studies class.

They were currently studying what was popularly known as "third wave" feminism, and each student had to write a short essay that would contribute to a larger class discussion that Professor Lane would mediate. Gwen had been having trouble thinking of what exactly her essay would be about, particularly when she'd been so busy with everything from waitressing to superheroing.

That made her think back to the seminal essay written by Rebecca Walker, who'd termed the expression "third wave feminism" in the first place.

Once again, a smile crossed her face.

"Rebecca Walker talked about how the notion of an empowered woman, and how she looks, acts or thinks is simply itself a contrivance of perfect womanhood," Gwen explained in her class a couple of days later, "and I would argue that this includes all of the roles women take on in terms of social obligations. Everyone has to juggle responsibilities in their lives, of course, but too often women continue to be expected to be the family caregivers, even as they increasingly enter the workforce. The image of an empowered woman is defined by how well she fulfills all of these roles."

"What's so unusual about that?" Professor Lane asked, raising an eyebrow. "Everyone has obligations in their lives."

"Yes, but the problem with trying to live up to the image of an empowered woman is the fact that nobody's perfect," Gwen pointed out. "Of course everyone has obligations, but if a woman chooses to spend to forego employment in favor of spending more time caring for the children, she's viewed in some cases as submitting to her spouse's wishes. And what if she simply can't fulfill her job's obligations without spending the necessary time with her children, particularly if she's a single parent or her children have special needs and her spouse is also tied up with his obligations? Of course men have to deal with similar issues with their own traditional role as providers and protectors, but that's arguably an inherited mindset, while the increasing expectations of 'ideal women' are themselves a construction of past generations of feminism, as opposed to patriarchy. I certainly know that I haven't always fulfilled what's been expected of me, and in turn I've judged myself and been judged by others..."

Several of the other students murmured at this, before Holly chimed in with a response about how what Gwen was talking about reflected changing gender expectations.

Gwen was listening to that, but as she turned to look at Holly her eyes happened to meet Professor Lane's.

There was a half-smile on Professor Lane's face, and Gwen could swear that she saw a twinkle in one of the professor's eyes and a wink in the other.

Gwen only smiled back.

"Impressive," April Reese nodded in satisfaction as they completed filming for the day. "About time you didn't screw something up," April said to Gwen as she sat up from the couch.

Gwen's eyes flashed at that, as she took a deep breath.

"What the hell's your problem, anyway?" Gwen demanded.

"What are you talking about?" April shot back.

"The way you keep insulting me," Gwen snapped, "and keep talking about how I'm only in this production because I'm sleeping with Jonathan Caesar. You're completely full of it, you know?"

April's eyes flashed at this.

"What the hell are you implying-" she started to say, before Gwen spoke up again.

"I'm not implying anything, I'm saying it outright," Gwen said, not backing down an inch. "You look at me and you suppose I think I'm just some perfect pageant princess without a care in the world, don't you? Did you even stop to think about why I'd be in this film to begin with, if I had everything handed to me?"

"Caesar's the privileged asshole who made me take you on," April said, glowering at Gwen, "just because you're willing to sell yourself and set the women's movement back-"

"I'm setting the women's movement back?" Gwen asked incredulously. "I'm not the one judging people just based on how they look! And for that matter, for someone who dislikes Caesar as much as you seem to, you don't have any problem with taking his money to make your movie."

"I'm using this film to support justice for-" April interrupted.

"Look, I'm not a big expert on film analysis, but this film looks like it's mostly about your trying to build up your reputation," Gwen shook her head. "So am I, for that matter, but at least I'm honest about it! So why the hell are you judging me, or Caesar? What exactly did we do to people like Kevin, or anyone else? I mean, life hasn't exactly been easy for me growing up-and it's not like I wanted to be groped by that pervert Roderick Kingsley, either-but I don't look like it, do I?"

April looked as though she didn't quite know what to say, even if she wanted to continue to argue.

"The reason I've been sticking with this is because you have a good script," Gwen explained. "You have a lot of talent as a director, too-but your high and mighty attitude isn't going to help you get ahead in this business. Believe me, I know."

With those words, Gwen went to retrieve her tote bag and left the film studio, leaving April to ponder her words.

The weekend was coming up, and fortunately Gwen didn't have any pressing assignments or movie shoots. She recalled what her mother had told her about needing a break, and with some of the money she'd saved up from working at the Gloom Room she knew she could treat herself and the girls to a day at the spa. Unfortunately, she still didn't feel comfortable doing so because of how worried she was about Randy.

It was while she was checking her e-mails the next day in between classes that her phone rang. Pulling it out of her purse, her eyes lit up as she saw that Randy was the one calling her.

"Hi, Randy," Gwen replied, both hopeful and hesitant at the same time. "How are-"

"I just called to say I love you," Randy replied in a sing-song voice, quoting the Stevie Wonder song he'd once serenaded Gwen with. "How are you doing?"

"Pretty good now," Gwen replied with a smile. "You sound a lot better."

"That's because I feel a lot better," Randy replied on the other end. "Seriously, you really helped me out when you came by on Tuesday," he said.

"Yeah, but that's because I messed everything up for you in the first place," Gwen frowned.

"Don't go beating yourself up over that," Randy admonished her. "I had a right to know what the Harlem bombing was all about-you were just doing what you should have," he continued.

"Well, I'm glad you're feeling better," Gwen said with considerable relief. "How about we get together sometime next week?"

"Sounds wonderful," Randy replied. "See you then, kiddo-and don't forget to take care of yourself, alright?" he laughed.

Gwen giggled and wished him good-bye before hanging up.

He had advised her to take care of herself, and she had been meaning to get back in touch with the girls again.

In that case...she realized.

"Oh, this feels good," Kitty Pryde sighed in pleasure as the masseuse rubbed the tension out of her shoulders and her back. "This is just what I needed..."

"You and me both," Gwen grinned as her masseuse moved on to her lower back. "How about you guys?"

Her cousin Jill Stacy didn't reply, merely giving a contented sigh as her masseuse rubbed her feet. When Liz Allan spoke, however, it was with a wide, contented smile.

"I'm having a great time, Gwen," Liz chuckled. "Seriously, how can we ever thank you for treating us?"

"Come on, we're friends, aren't we?" Gwen winked. "I'm sorry I haven't been in touch with you guys for so long-I thought I'd make it up to you all."

"You don't owe us anything, Gwen," Jill finally spoke up. "Come on, we've all been busy."

"Yeah, but-" Gwen started.

"Not another word, Gwen," Liz interrupted. "Not another word..."

Gwen merely sighed, partly in pleasure and partly in self-reproach, realizing that she was being too hard on herself.

The Rose was not amused.

All of his work, his efforts in tending to his criminal garden, were in serious trouble.

Not only were his plans to bring many of New York's most influential citizens in shambles along with the Gloom Room A Go-Go nightclub he had set up as a major front for his organization, his main enforcer, the costumed supervillainess Scorpia, was now in jail, defeated by the spectacular Spider-Woman, the very same superheroine who had caused him so much grief in other ways. While he still had a solid foothold in terms of finance and influence, he was badly on the defensive when it came to dealing with his rivals Crimewave and Philippe Bazin, the two other major crimelords in New York City.

Now, he was forced to regroup and determine how he was going to respond, but that would take time, time he didn't necessarily have to spare while Crimewave and Bazin would follow up their advantage.

It was time to engage some outside help.

With his immaculately trimmed moustache and beard, combined with his crisp dark suits, Philippe Bazin looked as though he could serve as an attorney for the Devil, if he couldn't simply serve as the Devil himself. His office was every bit as refined and sophisticated as he was, filled with thick books, fine art pieces and imposing wooden walls that made the place seem both sinister and intellectual all at once.

Bazin was neither an attorney, a demon or an intellectual, although he bore elements of all of these things in his work. He was the leading crime boss in New York, having survived the upheavals that had driven the likes of the Kingpin, Silvermane and the Green Goblin out of business in the last few years. He had survived in part due to his keen strategic sense, and even more so due to his well-earned reputation not for starting gang wars, but for finishing them.

Over the past few weeks, he had been content to watch Crimewave and this mysterious new crime lord squabble with one another, even as all he did was defend his holdings. Now, he knew, it was the time to strike...

...and bring this war to an end.

So it was that he'd taken pains to have one Harvey Russell Broxtel, better known as the murderous fire-controlling killer Firebrand, smuggled out of the Raft, the supervillain wing of Riker's Island Penitentiary. The violent, sociopathic son of wealthy steel magnate Gary Broxtel, Harvey had long believed that his family's riches and influence gave him the right to do anything to anyone that he wanted. He had become increasingly violent as he grew up, his parents all but disowning him as he committed a series of increasingly brutal crimes. When he'd tried breaking out of jail, a gruesome accident had given him the ability to generate and control fire, powers that he'd used to attack everyone from his former victims at school to his own family.

Firebrand's sheer destructive power intrigued Bazin, and he had been eager to exploit it in any way he could. His scientists had kept the murderous youth sedated while they experimented with ways to make him carry out Bazin's will, until his body was flowing with mind control drugs that would make him compliant with Bazin's orders, directing his anger and hate towards whichever targets Bazin directed him. For weeks his scientists had worked, testing and re-testing every variable they could think of, until they had assured Bazin that Firebrand was ready.

Bazin himself hadn't been idle while his scientists were at work, of course. He'd meticulously compiled all the information his lieutenants had gathered on the new crime lord's operations, and he now knew exactly where to strike.

A diabolical grin crossed his face.

He stirred awake, his vision fuzzy as he tried to focus. His entire body felt numb and heavy, as if his skin was lined with lead rather than the steel that actually formed it. Sitting up felt slow and painful, as he shook his head and tried to get his bearings. He was desperately chilled, the cold winds freezing him to the bones as he struggled to remember where he was.

The last thing he remembered, he had been sleeping in his cell at the Raft, the supervillain wing of Riker's Island Penitentiary, and now here he was in the ruins of an abandoned industrial park, seemingly abandoned and left for dead. Looking down at his hands and the rest of his body, he saw that they were the same as always, a gruesome combination of flesh and half-melted steel plates that had become fused with his flesh, creating a warped, cracked form of body armor for him. The plates on his chest and back were gold, and the plates on his arms and legs were streaked with red. Reaching up to his face, he knew instinctively that he was wearing a facemask of cracked and broken metal plates that had fused together, giving his face a shattered look as if viewed through a broken mirror.

He remembered how much he hated that mysterious crimelord who had left him for dead, but not before Firebrand had been able to gain knowledge of so many of his essential businesses and operations, and where they were located.

He remembered his inner fires, and he remembered how they grew in strength with his rage.

He remembered that he was Firebrand.

"So he's coming here?" the Ogre grinned as he looked down at his two smaller companions.

"Of course he is," Lightning Fist replied, his voice tinged with electrical static, as he charged his powers. "Why else do you think that our employer would have instructed us to come into this part of the Bronx?" he asked, gesturing back with his head at the driver who was

"He should have had us hunt the bastard," Razor Wire cursed, looking around warily as he snapped his barbed, saw-edged whip against the wall.

"And once again you're showing why I'm the leader," Lightning Fist pointed out to him. "How do you think we would even know where to find him before he strikes?"

Razor Wire just cursed back at him. The Wicked Brigade, as the three men called themselves, had come together to make more money as a superpowered mercenary team than any of them would have had to on their own, but that didn't stop them from routinely sniping at and insulting each other. Their effectiveness in tight situations had been proven time again in other missions, as had their success at enriching themselves, so they continued to act as a team in spite of it all.

"So what makes this place the most obvious one?" Razor Wire demanded.

"Didn't you pay attention to our briefing?" Lightning Fist shot back. "This is an important distribution network for a lot of our employer's-"

The Wicked Brigade ceased their conversation and sprang to attention as a massive fireball blew a hole in the far wall. Flames whirled in through the hole, spreading out as if the gates of hell themselves had opened, suffusing the entire room in an infernal glow. The Wicked Brigade ignored the flames, and the building's sprinkler system coming to life to fight the flames, in favor of the dark figure that walked into the room, the flames parting before him as if to announce his presence and bow before him. His entire body was covered in half-melted plates of yellow and red steel that had fused with his flesh, giving him a jagged, broken look, particularly in the stitched, composite facemask he wore. Despite the efforts of the sprinkler system, the flames only grew stronger with his presence, and combined with the smoke they made him look blurry and indistinct, the emperor of a half-forgotten nightmare rather than the very real horror that he was.

"You think you can do this to me?" Firebrand screamed at the Wicked Brigade, his hands glowing with fire. "You didn't think that there'd be any consequences? That I wouldn't make you suffer, and beg for your lives?"

"I don't know who the hell you think you're talking to," Lightning Fist replied with a half-smirk as he stepped forward, "and I suppose it doesn't really matter either. You're in the big leagues now, kid!" he leered, as he shot a powerful bolt of lightning at Firebrand.

Firebrand only screamed wordlessly as he sprang out of the way, countering with a fireball directed at Lightning Fist. The Ogre, who more than lived up to his name with his huge nine-foot frame, cloud-grey skin and thick muscles, sprang forward to protect Lightning Fist, growling in pain as he absorbed the fireball. Kneeling down, he slammed his fist into the ground between him and Firebrand, causing a shockwave that knocked the pyromaniac off his feet. As Firebrand tried to get up, Razor Fist struck out from the side, lashing Firebrand once and again with his viciously edged whip, before striking a third time to completely entangle Firebrand. Lightning Fist was the next one to strike, blasting Firebrand with a wave of electricity. The electrokinetic killer only smiled, his control over the electricity being so precise that not even the rain or Razor Wire's metal whip could conduct it.

This is too easy, Lightning Fist thought to himself. This stupid kid was always getting his ass kicked by Spider-Woman, and now he-

A brilliant burst of fire erupted all around Firebrand, blinding the Wicked Brigade and forcing them to let up their attack. Lightning Fist could hear Razor Wire cursing, realizing that the lash of his whip had been severed in two by Firebrand's flames. He scrambled to ready his spare lash, and struck out at Firebrand, but ended up striking short as Firebrand countered with a long, gleaming whip of fire.

As Lightning Fist regained his sight, he saw Firebrand's flame lash burn through Razor Wire's metal whip, before catching him square in his metal facemask. Razor Wire screamed in agony, clutching at his face as he tried to tear his mask off and sank to his knees. Ogre charged forward at that, bulling his way through the first and the second fireballs that Firebrand tossed at him and launching himself at the smaller man in a flying tackle. Firebrand sprang up, riding a rising wall of flame that Ogre ended up charging right through. Burned all over, Ogre shouted and cursed in pain as he tried to turn around, but by the time he did Firebrand had come down to meet him face to face. At almost point blank range, Firebrand released another wave of fire into Ogre's face, leaving him rolling on the ground and clutching his face in agony.

Now it was Lightning Fist's turn to charge forward, hurling a flurry of electrical bolts at Firebrand. Firebrand emitted another blinding flash of fire, throwing Lightning Fist's aim off, so that most of his bolts went wide. Lightning Fist could hear at least one blast striking Firebrand, but the younger man was so enraged that Lightning Fist doubted that he even felt the blow.

Lightning Fist, on the other hand, certainly felt the blast that caught him square in the chest, and knocked him flat on his back. He felt as if he had been barbecued, his battle armor split and broken in several places by the sheer force of the blast, as Firebrand's laughter filled the room, which now looked like a scene out of the lowest levels of hell. Firebrand's laughter was soon joined by the screams of Razor Fist and the Ogre, as Firebrand put the both of them out of their misery.

Soon there was silence, broken only by the sound of the crackling flames and Firebrand's footsteps.

"What was that, again?" Firebrand sneered as he looked down at the prone Lightning Fist. "Something about how I'm an inexperienced kid, and you're in the big leagues? Look around you, you sniveling lowlife-you see what this all is? It's a sign of what I really am, of what I can do, and of just how little you are in comparison. And once your boss joins you in hell, he's going to tell you that this was just the beginning!"

The last thing Lightning Fist saw was Firebrand laughing hysterically, his silhouette the only discernible thing in the hellish inferno as a final wave of fire exploded all around him.

(Next Issue: Gwen has resolved many of the problems she's had to deal with in her civilian life, but those problems pale in comparison to the danger she finds herself in when she ends up fighting for her life against her old enemy Firebrand, whose quest for vengeance on the Rose leads him to go on a murderous rampage! All this and more in Spider-Woman #77: Firing Offence!)