Firing Offence

And that about does it for tonight, Gwen Stacy thought to herself as she saved the documents she was working on, closed the files and put the computer to sleep. I still need to review my notes for tomorrow's lecture, but I can do that before my first class...

Despite the long day of studying, Gwen found to her surprise that she wasn't nearly as drained as she might have been a couple of weeks ago. Many of the issues she might have had to deal with before, whether working at the Gloom Room A Go-Go, appearing in April Reese's independent film, socializing with her girlfriends, helping Randy with his guilt over Felicia Hardy organizing the Harlem bombing and keeping up with her schoolwork had all either been dealt with or were no longer nearly as much of a problem as they had been. Now, even with midterm exams happening next week, Gwen wasn't nearly as stressed as she might have otherwise been.

What should I do now? Gwen wondered, as she got up from her desk. Maybe I should go out on patrol? she wondered.

The sudden ache she felt in her stomach disabused her of that notion right away. As the spectacular Spider-Woman, Gwen frequently went out on patrol for criminals, but tonight she simply couldn't bring herself to do it. After everything she had been going through over the last month or so, Gwen badly needed a break.

Mom was right, Gwen realized. The Gloom Room's getting wrecked was a bad thing, especially with all the people who got hurt in it, but it actually gave me some more free time to take care of everything else I've been driving myself crazy with. Everybody from Uncle Ben to Mom to Randy have been telling me I need to take better care of myself...

...and I guess I'm not ready to get back to web-swinging just yet.

She felt guilty at that realization, but then she remembered that she had other responsibilities besides the ones she bore as a superheroine.

She also had responsibilities to herself.

SPIDER-WOMAN #77

"FIRING OFFENCE"

Alistair Darkholme, alias the Chameleon, alias the Rose, normally prided himself on his ability to keep his temper under control, displaying only those emotions that he wanted to show. However, he was finding it increasingly difficult to do so these days, given the precarious situation he found himself in.

His efforts to establish himself as a prominent crime lord in New York, filling the vacuum left by the demise of three of New York's five major players in the last few years, had started off well enough. Random acts of violence, combined with surreptitious efforts at more profitable criminal activity, had served him very well at first. He'd reaped enormous profits in a short time, profits that were camouflaged by his unpredictable acts.

That was something he'd specialized in for all the years he'd acted as a spy and saboteur, using his mutant shapeshifting powers and manipulation abilities to make people only see what he wanted them to. Having become tired of working for other employers, the Chameleon had decided to go into business for himself as a crime lord, using the techniques he had observed his employers use for his own gain. For a few months, everything had been firing on all cylinders. The Gloom Room A Go-Go had become a nostalgic hangout for many of New York's older movers and shakers, providing him with valuable intelligence; his costumed enforcer Scorpia had proven an effective and deadly weapon at almost every target he pointed her at; and able young lieutenants like Angelo Fortunato had proven to be very effective in fulfilling their assignments.

However, everything had soon begun to turn sour. Alistair had expected Crimewave and Philippe Bazin, the two remaining crime lords of New York, to strike back at him. That hadn't been as much of a problem on its own, and Alistair could deal with his rivals' retaliations. The much bigger problem had come in the form of the spectacular Spider-Woman, who had not only interfered with some of his schemes in her battles with Scorpia, but had also somehow managed to get her hands on a lot of very sensitive information about his syndicate, including important names and base locations. She had then provided that information to the Heroes For Hire and the New York Police Department, which had seriously undermined the Chameleon's position.

That had opened the way for Crimewave and Bazin to strike back, and strike hard. Crimewave had hired the mutant street gang that called themselves the Nasty Boys to trash the Gloom Room, while a fire-manipulating psychopath who called himself Firebrand was trying to destroy the Chameleon's holdings, likely at Bazin's behest. Scorpia was already in prison after her defeat by Spider-Woman, and so the Chameleon had hired the Wicked Brigade to defend his holdings. Unfortunately, despite the Wicked Brigade's long and successful record as mercenaries both in America and overseas, they'd been slaughtered by the insane Firebrand, and the Chameleon had lost a valuable safehouse.

The situation was growing desperate, in no small part thanks to Spider-Woman. It was all so bemusing to Alistair, who had expected the Heroes For Hire or Moon Knight to be the ones to give him the most grief, but instead it turned out to be some beauty pageant contestant who likely wasn't even old enough to drink in most states. He still couldn't figure out how she'd gotten ahold of so much important knowledge about his syndicate, knowledge only someone in his inner circle could reasonably have known, but she'd known it all anyway.

That meant there was clearly more to the girl than there first seemed...

...and that it would clearly be worth following up at a later date.

Not that he could pursue it right now. He had to act fast to keep his syndicate from being fatally compromised, or he'd be lucky if being caught by the police was the worst thing that happened to him.

Fortunately, the Chameleon had planned for an eventuality like this-he would never have lasted as long as he had, dealing with the kinds of people he did, if he didn't-and he realized it was probably time to activate it.

The Heroes For Hire were well-known for acting as hired bodyguards, investigators, and security for people who could afford to pay their prices. However, they were equally well-known for spending most of their profits on projects to benefit their neighbourhoods, doing everything from refurbishing run-down properties to building rec centers and libraries. They also did a considerable amount of pro bono work, defending their people from the criminals who sought to prey on them, and they'd been known to cause no end of troubles for the organized crime syndicates and street gangs who sought to prey on their neighborhoods.

Spider-Woman had visited the Heroes For Hire twice before, although not as a customer. She'd initially met with Misty Knight in an effort to determine who had been behind the Harlem bombing that had nearly killed her boyfriend Randy's parents, and then she'd met Luke Cage when she came to share the knowledge she'd gained from her mental link with the late, unlamented Felicia Hardy. The Heroes For Hire, along with the police she'd shared the information with, had put her information to good use in going after the mysterious new crime syndicate, arresting many of its members and shutting down many of its operations.

Now, visiting the Heroes for the third time, Spider-Woman hoped that they'd be able to update her on the syndicate's condition and activities. Her revealing the knowledge she'd gained from Felicia had been essential to putting the syndicate on the ropes, as had her fighting and defeating the maniac Scorpia, but she wasn't satisfied with that. She wanted the syndicate taken down completely, and she was determined to help in any way she could.

The man sitting at the desk in the foyer when Spider-Woman came in through the Heroes For Hires' front door wasn't Luke Cage or Misty Knight this time. It was a diminutive man of Asian descent with tousled black hair that looked as if it hadn't been combed in weeks, who looked at Spider-Woman curiously as she came forward. At first Spider-Woman wondered who she was, but it wasn't long before she recognized him as Danny Rand, who along with his girlfriend Colleen Wing made up the other two members of the Heroes For Hire along with Luke and Misty.

"Miss...Spider-Woman, I take it?" Danny asked, standing up and reaching over to shake her hand. "I should presume that you're no more liable to hire us than you were the previous two times I visited?"

Spider-Woman hesitated at that, wondering how Danny would take it when she told him he was right. Guiltily, she realized how she must be coming across, stopping by hoping to get some free intelligence and directions. She didn't know the streets or the situation in them nearly as well as the Heroes, and remembered what Misty Knight had told her the first time about how she was puzzled that a white girl who had no connection to the Harlem community suddenly showed up asking questions about it.

Still, what could she do, now that she'd come this far?

"...I'm afraid not," she said, realizing just how she must sound. "I was wondering if you had any further knowledge of what this mysterious new criminal syndicate has been up to since I told Luke everything I know about it," she continued nervously.

To her surprise, Danny remained impassive, only running a hand through his hair.

"Why would you want that knowledge?" he asked her curiously.

"Like I told Misty the first time," Spider-Woman replied, more confidently this time, "the bombing hurt someone I really care about. I want to pay them back! I was hoping that you could help me..."

"Because we have more knowledge of what goes on in the streets, I take it?" Danny asked her pointedly.

"Well..." Spider-Woman began awkwardly. "It's just that...I thought since we've helped each other before..."

"It's true, you did indeed provide invaluable assistance," Danny nodded. "I'm just asking whether you're seeking justice with that knowledge, or if you're seeking revenge, or to work through your inner turmoil, whatever it may be."

"...What?" Spider-Woman asked, perplexed by Danny's questions. She'd hoped to get information from the Heroes, but now she felt as though she was being psychoanalyzed.

"It's a simple question," Danny pointed out to her.

"Yeah...but..." Spider-Woman continued, wondering if she'd royally screwed up by visiting the Heroes again. It looked to her like Danny considered her an annoyance, so she began to turn to leave, her original enthusiasm having largely vanished.

"I'm sorry," she said as she turned away. "I shouldn't be here..."

"There's no need to leave," Danny replied. "Answer my question and I'll be happy to share whatever information I can."

Turning back to face him, Spider-Woman took a deep breath.

"I want to pay back the criminals who hurt people I care about," Spider-Woman explained. "I mean, I know I've hurt them with the information I shared with the police and you guys, and my defeating Scorpia, but the leaders are still at large. How do I know they won't pull some kind of sick revenge scheme on God knows how many people, just to try and make a point? I can't let that happen!" she insisted.

Danny nodded at her reply, nodding his chin thoughtfully.

"Why are you asking me this?" Spider-Woman asked him. "Why are you so interested?"

"Because, as Misty said, you don't have any connection to the Harlem community, and you only seem to act as a superhero in response to crises that you personally encounter. And yet, even after all you've done to undermine this syndicate already, here you are again, hoping that we might be able to help you," Danny explained. "I just find that very interesting-and I must confess I am curious as to what it is that drives you to participate in the costumed, superpowered life."

Spider-Woman just stared back at him. She had been afraid that the Heroes would begin seeing her as an annoyance, but she never expected to be asked about why she would be wanting that information in the first place.

"...Okay, so did I answer your question?" she asked, not quite sure what else to say.

"Of course you did," Danny nodded. "As for what kind of information we've been able to find, suffice it to say that the news is not good. There have been a rash of firebombings occurring at various warehouses, businesses, and even a high-end restaurant that were all said to be fronts for this new crime lord's syndicate. The police are investigating, but the bomber, whoever's employing them, seems to be able to strike at will."

"Have you guys been able to follow up on it?" Spider-Woman asked in concern.

"I'm afraid not," Danny shook his head. "We've been tied up with some important casework-we've been hired by the New York Mutant Community Alliance to provide security to some of the prominent mutant spokespeople who've been threatened by the Friends of Humanity. As for the police, they've had their hands full trying to keep the lid on everything going on right now."

Spider-Woman felt somewhat at a loss about that. On the one hand, she hardly felt much sympathy for the problems the syndicate was enduring, but she wanted its leadership to be put in jail, not the morgue. Along with all that, there was also the worry about how many innocent people could be hurt in the bombings.

I wonder who would be doing it? Spider-Woman thought to herself. Could it be someone trying to take over the syndicate, like a rebellion or something? Or maybe it's a supervillain another syndicate hired to destroy them?

Not that it matters-either way, they need to be stopped...

"...Thank you for your help," Spider-Woman replied, bowing briefly to Danny. "I hope I haven't been too much trouble."

"To the contrary," Danny assured her. "Your presence here shows that your heart, at least, is in the right place."

Those words stayed with Spider-Woman as she left the Heroes' headquarters.

At first glance, he looked like he was wearing a suit of red and gold armor that was crudely soldered together from broken and jagged pieces of metal. Upon closer inspection, it became clear that the metal plates were actually melted into his skin, including the gruesome, cracked metal plate that served as a facemask. Strategically melted holes provided openings for his eyes, nose and mouth, surrounded by the same cracked and broiled skin that covered all of the other exposed parts of his body that were not encased in metal. The flames dancing all across his body reflected off the metallic parts of his body, surrounding him with a hellish glow and making him appear as if he was at the heart of a nightmarish inferno.

Harvey Russell Broxtel, alias Firebrand, would have been perfectly at home in such a setting. It would have matched the rage and the hate he felt, making the flames he could generate and control all the hotter. As he became angrier, so too did his fires become hotter, making for a terrifying combination that had only barely been thwarted by Spider-Woman on several occasions. Even then, despite Spider-Woman's victories, she could not stop him from claiming dozens of lives or causing horrific amounts of property damage during his rampages.

It was those rampages that Firebrand had engaged in ever since he'd been smuggled out of prison and then experimented on by the mysterious crimelord who had just recently tried to set himself up in New York. He'd attempted to convert Firebrand into a living, mind-controlled weapon to use against his enemies, but Firebrand had managed to escape. Firebrand had also found a considerable amount of knowledge about his captor's criminal network. Disguising himself with stolen clothes, he'd managed to remain inconspicuous until it was time to strike.

He'd destroyed five of the crime boss's installations thus far, and he could only imagine how much misery that was causing for him.

That wasn't the end of it, though.

Not at all.

He wouldn't be satisfied until whoever it was that had kidnapped and imprisoned him, had treated him like a fucking laboratory animal, was at his mercy.

They were going to burn.

They were going to burn alive, groveling for mercy at his feet for every last second of their miserable, worthless lives.

Philippe Bazin only smiled as he read the reports submitted from his moles at the New York Police Department about the havoc Firebrand was wreaking. He was even more impressed when he saw how Firebrand had singlehandedly killed the Wicked Brigade, mercenaries that Bazin himself had employed more than once, and always with successful results.

As New York's longest-serving crimelord, one who had survived the upheavals that had destroyed the Maggia, driven the Kingpin out of New York and left the Green Goblin in a brain-damaged coma and destroyed up-and-comers like Jason Tso, Mr. Negative and Gavin Thorpe, Philippe Bazin was known for his tendency not to provoke either his criminal rivals or the authorities. He did not like to start wars, either with the legitimate authorities or with any other criminal rivals.

Bazin was known for not starting wars, but he was equally well-known for finishing them, something that had made him one of the most feared men not only in New York City, or even in New York State, but in New Jersey, Massachusetts and the other neighbouring states.

He was, of course, the one who had Firebrand spirited out of the Raft, the superhuman wing of Riker's Island Penitentiary, and implanted him with false memories of being kidnapped and experimented on by the mysterious new crimelord who had been trying to set up in New York, along with information about the crimelord's operations. Predictably, the enraged Firebrand had gone on a rampage against the crimelord who'd supposedly wronged him...

...just as Bazin expected.

According to the Fixer, who Bazin had contracted to develop the memory device he had used on Firebrand, direct mind control was unlikely to work on someone as egotistical, short-tempered and unstable as Firebrand. It would be far better to have him acting under his own agency, albeit pointed in the direction that Bazin had wanted him to go. It had been a simple matter for the resourceful Bazin to get Firebrand smuggled out of the Raft, and for his own scientists to keep him sedated and pumping him full of mind control drugs that would not make him Bazin's direct puppet, but would make him more receptive to the false memories the Fixer's memory device would plant in him.

Bazin smiled, turning his chair to look at the massive bookcases that walled his office, and the wealth of knowledge those tomes contained.

Many individuals had superpowers, and they used them to good effect, but Bazin was not the least bit jealous of them.

The wisdom of Sun Tzu, of Plato, of Clausewitz, of Machiavelli.

The greatest power of all.

It's about time I got back to patrolling, Spider-Woman thought to herself as she swung high above the city. It was nice being able to take a break and all, but I really can't afford to be out of costume for this long...

...and come to think of it, I haven't visited Tarot in a while either, she thought guiltily. I just hope things are still going well for her in prison-if the Friends of Humanity are terrorizing mutant advocates, who's to say they wouldn't try and go after Tarot in prison?

Of course, if they do they're going to regret it, she thought to herself determinedly.

The chill wind of late October made Spider-Woman shiver, and she realized she should probably go back to wearing her winter costume, which was made of thermal materials that helped her retain her body heat better. Her spandex costume worked well for spring and summer, but it was about the least suitable material for fighting in cold environments, as Spider-Woman had learned the hard way during her battles with both the Donald Gill and Gregor Shapanka Blizzards.

Then again, I suppose I should be grateful that's one of my biggest problems right now, Spider-Woman continued. April Reese isn't breathing down my neck anymore, I'm caught up on my schoolwork, Randy's doing a lot better...

That realization made her pause, as she recalled the accusations Louise Robertson, Randy's mother, had thrown at her for mistakenly thinking that she'd cheated on him. Randy had been devastated after Gwen had revealed to him the reason why Felicia had organized the bombing of the Harlem community rally, and when he'd come home from his date with her his parents had assumed that she had done something to upset him. Neither Gwen nor Randy could reveal the truth without compromising Gwen's secret identity, and Louise Robertson had grievously insulted Gwen the last time she'd been to the Robertson residence, accusing her of being a two-timing whore.

Although her hands were covered by her gloves, Spider-Woman knew that her knuckles were white underneath them, given how hard she was now gripping her webline.

The old Stacy luck never really goes away, does it? Spider-Woman thought angrily.

Spider-Woman took a deep breath as she spun another webline, reminding herself about what Tarot had told her about sexual judgement being a problem that women frequently had to deal with in many different areas of life. She also knew full well that angering either the Robertsons or April was the last thing she wanted to do.

So what am I supposed to do about it? she wondered in frustration. I shouldn't have to put up with-

The sounds of the screams and the explosion might have caught Spider-Woman by surprise once, but now all of her senses were on alert and her mind clear as she changed direction, swinging towards the sounds of the mayhem.

It sounds like I found my bomber, Spider-Woman realized. Of all the heroes in New York, I suppose it would have to be me who ran into them...

Firebrand laughed hysterically as the building burned all around him, revelling in the destruction. The shipping company worked hand in hand with his former captor's syndicate to ship heroin across the Eastern Seaboard and up into Canada, and were a critical source of revenue for it. Destroying it, and much of the precious supply being smuggled in the company's packages and containers, would throw their deliveries off schedule and cause them weeks of delay.

The flames were already spreading, and had ignited several surroundings, which only heightened Firebrand's good mood. He could already see a good half-dozen burned corpses around him, in addition to the eighteen other people who had died in his previous rampages.

Once again, Firebrand laughed, thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to release his powers on these lesser people, the peasants, the ants, the scum of the earth. There was nothing any of them could do to him, except for screaming and begging for mercy.

Not that it ever did any of them any good, of course!

As much as he enjoyed what he was doing, Firebrand had also been doing it long enough not to let his guard down. He felt the sting blast coming towards him as much as he actually heard it, and he quickly dodged, spinning around as Spider-Woman came swinging down towards him, an angry glare on her face.

"I suppose you couldn't leave well enough alone, you little ginch?" Firebrand sneered at his old enemy, casting a long wave of flame at her and cracking it like a whip. "Just had to interfere with my fun?"

"I never took you for doing hired gruntwork, Firebrand," Spider-Woman shot back, leaping over the wave of flame and catching Firebrand with a double shot of webbing. As Firebrand tried to burn the webbing off, Spider-Woman struck him with a double sting blast, knocking him off his feet. "Being cut out of the will hurts, doesn't it?" she continued mockingly, referring to his wealthy parents who had long since disowned him as a hateful monster.

"You think I'm hiring myself out?" Firebrand screamed in a rage, as his entire body began to glow with flames. "That I have to stoop to taking money from some self-important thug? This is payback, pure and simple-just like I'm going to give you!" he continued, as he rose to his feet. Shooting another wave of fire at Spider-Woman, he cast a fireball at her as she leapt over the fire wave, exploding in her face and burning her all over.

Damn it, what was I thinking? Spider-Woman cursed, her entire body throbbing with pain as she crashed to the ground and rolled out of the way of Firebrand's next fireball. The more he gets mad, the stronger his flames get, and I had to go and piss him off like a goddamn amateur! Spider-Woman continued, spraying her webbing all around her in a protective dome against the wave of flames that Firebrand tried to cast over her. Flames licked through the holes in her webbing and scorched her arms and legs, causing her to cry out in pain as she tried to back out of the dome through the hole she'd left in the back.

Firebrand had anticipated that, directing his flames to encase the entire dome and flood into it. Her heart pounding frantically, Spider-Woman did the only thing she could think of, covering herself with as much of her webbing as she could in the few seconds before the flames reached her. Her plan kept her from being roasted alive, and she managed to escape the web dome by forcing her way through the flames, but it couldn't protect her entirely. Spider-Woman felt like she was being barbecued, and realized that she was in serious trouble. Sinking to her knees, she thought frantically as she tried to determine how she could fight back, realizing that if she didn't figure something out she was as good as dead.

"You don't know how much time I spent fantasizing about this in prison," Firebrand leered as he came towards her, his entire body wreathed in fire. "To have you, of all people, helpless at my feet, dying slowly and painfully, just the way you deserve. Say goodbye, you bitch, because-"

Firebrand's next words were a series of startled cries as Spider-Woman looked up and blasted him at point blank range with her sting blasts, before catching him with a double shot of webbing. Rising to her feet as she got her second wind, she slung Firebrand into the air, tossing him towards a part of a nearby building that was still standing. Screaming in pain, Firebrand cursed and screamed obscenities at her as he got to his feet and began tossing fireballs at her, glowing more brightly than ever.

If Spider-Woman was at all intimidated, she didn't show it. Infuriated by Firebrand's comments, she ducked and dodged his blasts, retaliating with shots from her webbing and sting blasts, which only served to make Firebrand all the angrier.

I've got to time this just right, Spider-Woman realized determinedly. If I let him take his focus off me, he's probably going to kill someone. If I make him too mad, he'll probably go nuclear and kill everyone.

Nothing in life is ever easy, is it? Spider-Woman thought to herself as she finally sprang forward and shot her webbing up at the wall that Firebrand had stepped in front of. With a determined pull, she brought the wall down in a crash of rubble, hoping to bury Firebrand and put an end to the fight. That was how she'd defeated Firebrand the last time they'd fought, and while she'd have been happy if it worked she'd expected that Firebrand might dodge it.

Thinking quickly, she blasted Firebrand with her sting blasts while he was dodging, knocking him off balance. Picking up the rubble with threads of webbing, Spider-Woman proceeded to throw one piece after another at him, striking him over and over again as he staggered from the blows. Finally striking him with a double sting blast, Spider-Woman then tagged him with a webline and threw him into what was left of the pile of debris, before he crashed among them and finally collapsed.

As her adrenaline faded, Spider-Woman sank to her knees, too tired even to move to put out any of the flames around her. Thankfully, the fire and emergency crews had arrived by then, and they had already begun treating the surviving victims and putting out the flames. It wasn't long before Spider-Woman was among the victims being treated, as the paramedics bandaged her wounds and treated her smoke inhalation as the police took the unconscious Firebrand into custody.

Well, I took care of the bomber, Spider-Woman thought to herself ruefully, dreading having to webswing back to her Aunt Nancy's townhouse in her condition. I should have guessed that it would be Firebrand-if I'm the one looking for somebody starting fires, then of course it's going to be one of my old enemies, she realized. And of course, I just happen to forget how easy it is to make him mad.

So I got into a fight with an enemy who gets more and more unhinged every time I tangle with him, I end up looking like I spent half a day in the tanning bed, I'm going to miss a day of classes and studying for my exams while I rest up, and I'm probably not any closer to finding the mysterious crime lord who Firebrand was after, she continued.

Some days it's just not worth getting out of bed in the morning, Spider-Woman concluded.

Leaning back, Spider-Woman happened to look around and see the people being treated by the paramedics. Many of them had ugly burns on their bodies, and were groaning in pain.

The sights made Spider-Woman feel even lower than she already did, until she realized how much worse things might have been, and how many of them might not still be alive, if she hadn't intervened.

All she could do was sigh at that realization.

The Libertine was one of the most high-class restaurants in New York, patronized by everyone from Broadway stars to Wall Street tycoons to political movers to foreign dignitaries visiting the United States. The Libertine's management proudly acknowledged the patronage it received from such distinguished personalities, although they were careful to never acknowledge another class of patron that they regularly entertained, namely the leaders of the city's organized crime syndicates.

Philippe Bazin was there along with his lieutenants, as were Crimewave, the yuppie crime boss who was the only other survivor of the recent upheavals in New York's criminal hierarchy, and his lieutenants. They'd all been invited to dinner by the mysterious syndicate leader who'd been trying to carve out a piece of the New York crime scene for himself, and who now apparently wanted to talk peace.

Neither Bazin or Crimewave were inclined to be very merciful, though. They'd come to humor the upstart and learn what the new guy wanted to say, and if they liked what they heard they might be willing to let the guy keep his head...

...of course, he'd have to give up an arm and a leg for it.

The Libertine's staff had already set up a fancy buffet at the far end, and then they were dismissed with strict instructions not to disturb the diners, as was the usual arrangement. When the doors were flung open, Bazin, Crimewave and their men soon realized that the organizer of their little dinner party had finally decided to show himself. Several well-dressed men stepped into the room, two of them carrying what looked like a large ice box between them. One of the men was clearly the leader, a tall and stocky man who was bald on the crown of his head but had a thick bushel of hair on the back and sides, along with an elaborate waxed moustache that reminded Bazin somewhat of the eccentric artist Salvador Dali. The party sat down at the only unoccupied seats, placing the ice box in the center of it as if it were a Thanksgiving centrepiece.

Predictably, it was Crimewave who broke the ice.

"You all look pretty high and mighty for people who've just gotten their asses kicked," Crimewave sneered, looking at the men contemptuously. "Here to beg for mercy?"

Bazin said nothing, simply staring intently at the new arrivals.

The bald man with the moustache looked at his counterparts, before pushing back his chair and rising to his feet. When he spoke, it was with a voice of authority and experience.

"I am Cornelius Van Lunt," he explained, "the new leader of my former colleague's syndicate."

"...New leader?" Crimewave asked skeptically.

"Indeed," Van Lunt replied without missing a step. "My colleague, who his lieutenants all know as the 'Rose'," he continued, gesturing towards the men who were sitting around him, and all of whom made a point of avoiding his gaze, "met with an unfortunate, shall we say, 'accident', because of his reckless stupidity in provoking you all unnecessarily."

"...An accident," Bazin replied, as much of a statement as a question.

"Quite so," Van Lunt smiled as he reached across the table and opened the ice box his lieutenants had brought in. Tipping it over and spilling its contents onto the table, several of the crime lords' lieutenants gasped and rose from their seats at the severed head, preserved by the ice, that came rolling out of the box.

"I was the Rose's prime operative in our operations further south, in Florida and down into Mexico," Van Lunt explained, "and when I saw how foolishly he'd provoked you, and the way he'd let information fall into the hands of the Heroes For Hire and the police, I decided that enough was enough. In many respects, I functioned as the Rose's second-in-command, and so when I arranged for his...'misfortune'...it was a matter of course for me to take his place. My new underlings, of course, can confirm for you that my little peace offering is indeed the Rose-they've seen his decapitated corpse, still dressed in that fine suit of his.

Crimewave and Bazin both noticed how horrified Van Lunt's lieutenants seemed to be, and how they made a point of not looking straight at their new boss.

"Hence I come to talk peace," Van Lunt continued. "I recognize that coming to an appropriate arrangement may well be costly, but for all his errors the Rose firmly established my new syndicate in New York, and with Firebrand's recent defeat I will have the opportunity to retrench before any more damage can be done. I have learned from his mistakes, gentlemen, and the knowledge he gained on your own operations can indeed be brought forward for use...but I have no intention of doing so provided that we can come to a mutually satisfactory arrangement."

Bazin and Crimewave looked at one another, both of them realizing that they were dealing with a much more formidable character than they had expected. They also knew right away that this Van Lunt character was not making idle threats.

It was time to deal.

Now wearing the face of Cornelius Van Lunt, the Chameleon seethed at his losses. His cherished rose garden, the syndicate he'd worked so long and hard to establish, had been badly damaged by his opponents, and it would take a considerable amount of time to rebuild what he had lost. The roots had been torn up, the petals wilted, the leaves infested with parasites.

So it was he'd had to activate his contingency of engineering his own replacement as head of the syndicate. One of the most valuable contacts he'd made in the spy game was that of Arnim Zola, the depraved but brilliant geneticist who had provided him with a serum, based off his own shapeshifting mutant abilities, that allowed him to essentially lock his body in a particular appearance. When used on a cloned body, that body's shapeshifting powers were effectively erased, permanently trapping it as the appearance that the Chameleon wanted it to be imbued with. As an added precaution, it would only work on a clone of the Chameleon, never on the real version, so as to avoid the Chameleon ever losing access to his powers.

Zola's brilliance had assisted the Chameleon on more than one mission, but now he engineered it to save his own skin. The cloned body had been his last resort, and now he'd had to invoke it in order to prevent his garden from being burned away completely. It would take months for Zola to make him a new one, and doing so would not come cheap.

Still, his rose garden had endured. He could reinvigorate the soil, plant new seeds, cleanse the parasites and the weeds that choked it off, nourish it with new light and new water until it was healthy and strong once again. For now, it was enough that he had established himself as New York's third crimelord, despite his setbacks.

The Heroes For Hire, Philippe Bazin, Crimewave, the police, and especially Spider-Woman...they had all cost him dearly, and he would have to cut his losses if he intended to survive...

...but he wouldn't forget, much less forgive.

Making them believe what he wanted them to.

Layer upon layer of deception.

(Next Issue: As midterm exams start at Empire State University, Gwen works diligently to keep up her grades. However, she soon runs into problems when the independent film she is working on suffers a major setback, and her boyfriend Randy's parents begin questioning their son's relationship with her. Even that might not be the biggest problem Gwen has to face, when she crosses paths with the mysterious Nathaniel Grey, and the dangerous forces in pursuit of him! All this and more in Spider-Woman #78: X Marks The Spot! Guest-starring the Uncanny X-Men!)