Hail Caesar

"You're sure you don't want to join us, Gwen?" Liz Allan asked Gwen Stacy as they walked along the Empire State University quad.

"I'd love to, I really would," Gwen said, "but I need to rehearse my monologue for Drama class tomorrow."

"That's too bad," Liz said, frowning. "We haven't gotten to do much recently."

"I know," Gwen said, "but I really, really need to keep my GPA up this semester. I wish I knew what to say."

"Well, we'll figure something out," Liz said. "Maybe we could just hang out one evening and watch Hulu or something. Catch you later, sweetie!" Liz continued, turning towards the Donald Blake Medical Library.

Gwen just sighed as she continued walking by herself. She hadn't been lying when she told Liz that she needed to focus on her studies, but that wasn't the only reason she couldn't go out with Liz and some of their other university friends that night. She was also flat broke, having stopped looking for work several months ago to help cope with her stress.

Gwen couldn't ask her friends to pick up her tab when they went out-not only was it embarrassing for her, it was grossly unfair to them. It was bad enough when Gwen's boyfriend Randy Robertson picked up her share of the bill when they went out-and even then Randy had to insist on it before she finally agreed.

Many other college students juggled their schoolwork and their jobs. Gwen did too, but she also had to deal with the complication of fighting crime as the spectacular Spider-Woman. She'd had to miss more than one day of classes this year recovering from injuries she'd suffered fighting costumed supervillains. The pressure of trying to balance her schoolwork, her social life, her career, her income and her efforts as a superhero had caused Gwen no end of grief. At one point, she'd suffered a nervous breakdown when everything seemed to go wrong for her at once.

As a result, Gwen had stopped trying to find acting and modeling work, and she'd also cut back on the amount of time she spent patrolling as Spider-Woman. Unfortunately, that meant she worried about missing out on potential star-making roles. Worse, even when she tried to reduce her time as Spider-Woman, she was constantly forced to suit up to fight supervillain enemies both old and new.

Gwen rubbed her eyes as she approached the building housing her next class.

She knew how much easier things would be if she didn't have to constantly fight crime as Spider-Woman…

…but she also knew that if she didn't, she'd never be able to live with herself.

ULTIMATE SPIDER-WOMAN #95

HAIL CAESAR

Jonathan Caesar smiled to himself as he put his smartphone back in his pocket. Rubbing his thick brown beard, he stood up and looked out the window of his brownstone, quite satisfied with the way things were going.

Known as an entrepreneur, patron of the arts and man about town, Caesar more than lived up to his reputation. He was involved with everything from nightclub ownership to fashion design to bankrolling independent films, and he was equally comfortable chatting with young hipsters as he was talking to business executives. Caesar was well-liked by all of these groups as well, and he took great pride in his relationships with them.

Yes, everything was going quite well for Caesar.

Nodding contentedly, Caesar turned from the window and headed downstairs, determined to be on time for his next meeting.

Some of his business associates were not as patient as he was, and it wasn't a good idea to disappoint them.

Cornelius Van Lunt was tall and stocky, with an elaborately waxed moustache, a bald crown on his head and a thick bushel of hair on his head's sides and back. His suits were impeccably tailored, and his dark eyes constantly darted from side to side, continually assessing and judging everything around him.

Cornelius rubbed his eyes briefly, before his skin began to darken and ripple. He seemed to shrink by a full foot, as his skin turned a deep midnight blue. His eyes brightened and became pure gold, as he resumed his true identity of Alistair Darkholme, better known as the Chameleon.

The Chameleon was not in a good mood. Originally using his mutant shapeshifting abilities as a spy and saboteur, the Chameleon had decided on a change of venue to become a New York crime lord. Several of the city's established crime syndicates had either been destroyed or driven out of town, and there was a wide swath of territory available for any enterprising criminals.

Creating the identity of the Rose, a suave and refined criminal with a penchant for gardening the flowers he took his name from, the Chameleon had quickly made a name for himself, carving out a niche from his rivals Philippe Bazin and Carl Wilkinson, alias Crimewave. He carefully nurtured his garden with calculated planning, pruning and watering his flowers until they reached full bloom.

However, the Chameleon's garden has quickly begun to wilt. Interference from superheroes like the Heroes For Hire and especially Spider-Woman had put him back on his heels. He was eventually forced to abandon the identity of the Rose and create that of Cornelius Van Lunt, pretending to murder the Rose as a way of appeasing Bazin and Crimewave. In the six months since he had taken on the Van Lunt identity, the Chameleon had continued to languish as the third-ranking of New York's crime bosses.

When he heard a knock at the door, the Chameleon quickly shapeshifted back into Lunt's form. Taking a deep breath, he assumed the cold, hard stare he customarily wore as Van Lunt.

"Enter!" Van Lunt said, as he fully subsumed himself in his identity.

The doors to Van Lunt's office opened and Jonathan Caesar walked into the room, smiling winningly as he came up to Van Lunt's desk. Holding out a hand for Van Lunt to shake, Caesar was unfazed when Van Lunt did not reciprocate. Instead, Caesar coolly sat down in the chair facing Van Lunt's desk, before linking his hands in front of him.

"Nice that the weather is finally warming up, isn't it?" Caesar said.

"Is everything going the way it's supposed to?" Van Lunt said, his eyes narrowing as he locked his gaze on Caesar.

"Of course it is," Caesar said. "We've established a great relationship with Senor Muerte," he said, referring to South America's most notorious drug kingpin, "and the Russians are really pleased with your proposal on the corridor through Maine and New Brunswick. Profits have been increasing an average of 32% month over month since you settled thing with Bazin and Crimewave. They're really looking up!"

Van Lunt didn't reply. Instead, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"What's wrong?" Caesar said. "We're growing so quickly, and-"

"-yet I'm still third in rank behind Bazin and Crimewave," Van Lunt said. "What do you think is wrong?"

"We're growing more quickly than they are," Caesar said. "In a year or so, we might be able to-"

"I'm supposed to wait a year?" Van Lunt said, slamming both his fists on his desk. "A goddamn year?"

"We can't just do this overnight," Caesar said. "These things take time, as the Rose might have said."

"Don't you dare-" Van Lunt said, rising from his chair.

"Don't you remember how the Rose provoked Bazin and Crimewave?" Caesar said. "You were the one who talked to them about that, remember?"

Van Lunt forced himself to calm down, before resuming his seat.

"And what's the feeling among the people you're connected with?" he said.

"None of them suspect a thing," Caesar said. "What, did you want me to do something with them? Are you dusting off the Rose's Winkler chips plan?"

"No," Van Lunt lied, "nothing like that."

"Is that all you called me for, then?" Caesar asked. "A status update? Because we could have-"

"Send me the details in your next report," Van Lunt interrupted him, "and get out of my sight."

Caesar did well to hide his scowl as he left Van Lunt's office.

The Chameleon shifted back to his natural form as a wide smile crossed his face. With his skill at masking his emotions, he had become skilled at determining when other people were trying to hide their emotions as well. Compared to him, Caesar was a rank amateur, and the Chameleon saw right through him.

The real point of the meeting wasn't for the Chameleon to get a better understanding of his organization's strength, which he knew perfectly well. The real reason was to make Caesar angry at him, and think that Van Lunt was short-tempered and ignorant.

All the better to get Caesar to drop his guard around the Chameleon, so that he could truly put his plan into action.

Layer upon layer of deception.

Randy Robertson glanced around anxiously as he walked into the Coffee Bean. He'd been thinking about this meeting all week, ever since Spider-Woman had defeated the supervillains Ms. Fortune and the Squid. He wasn't meeting with Gwen today though, but with the other person he and Gwen had been with, the one who had helped Gwen prevent a disaster.

Randy wasn't surprised to see Kitty Pryde already sitting at a table and waiting for him, or that she seemed to be as on edge as he was. Kitty had fled when the Squid and Ms. Fortune had attacked them and the rest of their friends at Harry Osborn's dinner party, instead of using her mutant phasing powers to help Spider-Woman fight the villains. Randy had been infuriated at Kitty's cowardice, and she had tormented herself with guilt. When the Squid and Ms. Fortune attacked a second time, however, Kitty had managed to defeat Ms. Fortune by shorting out her armor and kicking the staff-wielding criminal down the stairs, leaving her too dazed to continue.

Now, Randy and Kitty were meeting in hopes of sorting things out. The lineup at the Coffee Bean was short, and it wasn't long before Randy had gotten his own coffee and sat down across from Kitty.

Looking at Kitty up close, Randy saw that she was even more nervous than she seemed at first glance. Randy couldn't fault her for that, and realized he should probably put her at ease right away.

"Thanks for meeting with me, Kitty," Randy said. "I wanted to apologize to you. I never should have-"

"You don't have anything to apologize for, Randy," Kitty said. "You were right the first time."

"You mean about using your powers?" Randy said in surprise. "Does that mean you're-"

"No, I'm not joining the X-Men," Kitty said. "Fighting a lunatic in a Halloween suit once was more than enough. What I mean is that you were right about my being able to just blend in if I didn't use my powers and let people know I'm a mutant. That's not something you could do."

"Obviously," Randy said with a smile. "So what are you planning to use your powers for?"

"Nothing," Kitty said. "I have no idea how my phasing wrecked Ms. Fortune's armor, and I don't really care. But there are other ways I can help. You and Gwen aren't the only theatre buffs-I've been studying that too. I've got theatre and media experience, so I can help with your community activism. You need help with some of your cultural work for the black community? I can help behind the scenes with that, if you want. Like I said, you were right the first time about how I should do something to help…but I need to do it my way. I'd choke if I tried being one of the X-Men, but if I stick to what I'm good at, I can probably do a lot better."

A wide smile crossed Randy's face as Kitty spoke.

"I do have a couple of ideas that I'd be interested in following up on, like a YouTube series or something like that," he said. "If you and Gwen want to help me…the more the merrier, right?"

Kitty returned his smile.

Costumed superheroes and villains typically took on fanciful codenames for their masked personas, names that usually reflected their powers somehow. It had become trendy for young mutants to do the same thing as a way of asserting their unique identities, even if they didn't use their powers to fight or commit crime.

Carl Wilkinson was neither a costumed villain or a mutant, but he wore the nickname Crimewave as a badge of honor. Not even thirty years old, Crimewave was the youngest of New York's three major crime bosses, considerably younger than his main rival Philippe Bazin or that new guy Cornelius Van Lunt. Crimewave's youth and partying lifestyle belied his cunning, as he had survived and thrived when the likes of the Maggia, the Green Goblin and the Kingpin had all either been driven out of New York or completely destroyed.

Tonight, Crimewave was relaxing after a hard day's work, with some fine champagne, some finer cocaine, and some even finer women. He was surrounded by male friends, all of whom wanted to be him, and female admirers, all of whom wanted to be with him. While Crimewave would never let his male friends realize their fantasies, he was more than happy to let his female admirers realize theirs.

Towards the end of the evening, Crimewave saw Jonathan Caesar coming towards him. Caesar owned the Phoenix nightclub that Crimewave and his entourage were patronizing, and Crimewave figured that Caesar wanted to ensure one of his best customers was enjoying himself.

Crimewave sighed inwardly as he sat up to greet Caesar. He usually only spoke to these older types when they were his lieutenants or he needed something in particular. Otherwise, he hated the small talk they often went on with, wasting time Crimewave could have spent on another line or another girl.

"Having a good time tonight, Crimewave?" Caesar said as he sat down.

"Better, now that you're actually listening to my requests to call me that," Crimewave said. "And yet you don't mind having a major crime lord waltzing in here whenever he feels like it?"

"You always pay your bills," Caesar said, a winning smile on his face. "Besides, who am I to judge? I've met all kinds, you know."

"I suppose," Crimewave said, already irritated with the pointless discussion. "Was there anything else you wanted? Because I-"

"Yeah, I was just checking," Caesar said, the smile never leaving his face. "But seriously though, I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. You have a good rest of the evening, alright?"

Yeah right, Crimewave thought to himself as Caesar stood up to leave. Why the hell do you think I come to this place? It sure as hell isn't to waste my time talking to an old fart like you…

Crimewave was so distracted by his conversation with Caesar that he didn't notice the nondescript waiter passing by him and briefly touching him on the shoulder…

…or the tiny chip that the waiter left, which quickly buried itself beneath Crimewave's skin.

You'd think it'd have warmed up by now, Gwen thought to herself, hugging herself to ward off the chill of the winds as she walked towards the theatre. Although it was the middle of March, New York City was still almost as cold as it had been in January. How long does it take, huh?

Gwen just rolled her eyes and smiled at that realization. Her irritable mood didn't have anything to do with the weather. She was still second-guessing herself about applying for modelling work with Kingsley Cosmetics' summer collection during the middle of the semester to earn some money to help her family with the bills and pay her way at social gatherings. Not that Gwen was likely to get much socializing done over the next few months-after thinking long and hard about it, Gwen had decided she would focus on her career and her schoolwork before anything else. She wouldn't do any patrolling as Spider-Woman either, suiting up only when she had to deal with an imminent crisis.

Walking into the theatre where the auditions were being held, Gwen saw several familiar faces among the other models. She also saw some familiar Kingsley staff, among them company head Rebecca Kingsley. Her mood brightened immediately, as she how good her chances of being hired were. Rebecca Kingsley had a high opinion of her already, and she also knew that she was better than many of her competitors.

Gwen felt a surge of confidence as she slipped into the modelling role. It was the thing she enjoyed more than anything else, stepping into a new role and expressing different parts of herself.

As she walked towards the registration desk, Gwen heard a voice calling her name. Turning towards the voice, Gwen beamed to see Jonathan Caesar coming towards her. Caesar was a major investor in Kingsley Cosmetics, and Gwen had originally met him when he was recruiting women to work at the Gloom Room A Go-Go nightclub. Gwen had also gotten some movie roles with Caesar's help, and she was delighted to see him again.

"Hello, Mr. Caesar," Gwen said, bowing politely. "It's so good to see you!"

"Likewise, Gwen," Caesar said. "Back to work already?"

"What can I say?" Gwen said, shrugging humorously. "College isn't cheap."

"And times are tough, aren't they?" Caesar asked, before cursing himself as he saw Gwen's shoulders slump.

Nice going, genius, Caesar thought to himself. She's got her spirits up, and you had to bring her back down again!

"I don't think you have much to worry about with this audition, though," Caesar said with a smile. "And this is just the beginning, I bet. Good luck out there-I know you'll knock Rebecca dead!" Caesar continued.

Gwen smiled again before she turned back towards the registration deck, an extra bounce in her step.

Caesar shook his head and smiled proudly as he watched Gwen go, before he began walking back to his seat.

He imagined what Amy would have looked like onstage, showing that same passion and energy he saw reflected in Gwen, if Amy hadn't…

…Caesar blinked away the painful memories as he sat down.

One week later…

"Are you sure you're not pushing yourself too hard again?" Randy asked  Gwen as they headed for the Coffee Bean. "Like I've told you before, I don't mind paying your way."

"Maybe you don't, but I do," Gwen said. "And I thought about it for a long time-that's why I haven't done anything as Spider-Woman in the last couple of weeks. I've got my costume if I need it," she continued, holding up her tote bag, "but I haven't so far. Besides, I needed to be on stage again."

"On stage?" Randy asked in surprise.

"You know, performing," Gwen said. "That's what I've been wanting so much, even more than the money. To step into a new role, to explore a new part of myself. I've missed it so much!"

Randy laughed at that, rolling his eyes in amusement.

"I'm glad everything worked out with you and Kitty," Gwen said as they entered the Coffee Bean and got in line. "Is she going to help you with any of the projects you've got going on in Harlem right now?" Gwen had occasionally helped Randy with some of his activism herself, but he often preferred to do it on his own, noting that Gwen wasn't herself part of the community and there were some things the people of Harlem needed to do on their own.

Harry Osborn and his fiancée Liz Allan were already waiting for Gwen and Randy as they got their lattes. Harry and Liz had invited several of their friends for coffee, saying that they wanted to celebrate some important news. With the Squid and Ms. Fortune, the revenge-crazed supervillains who wanted to murder Harry for the crimes of his evil father Norman Osborn, now behind bars, Harry and Liz clearly felt safe to gather their friends again.

Gwen and Randy were the first of Harry and Liz's guests to show up, although it wasn't long before Kitty, her cousin Ben Reilly, and several other people Harry and Liz knew. Gwen and Randy were both disappointed that Kitty's boyfriend, Bruce "Kong" McFarlane couldn't make it, but he was still recovering from the Squid and Ms. Fortune attacking him and hadn't been released from the hospital yet. Fortunately, Kitty assured them that Kong's injuries were healing well, and the doctors expected to release him in another week.

Once the group had finally settled in, Harry stood up, a wide smile on his face.

"Thanks for coming, everybody," he said, looking at each of them in turn. "I asked you all here for a couple of reasons. First, I want to thank you all for the support and encouragement you gave Liz and I during a really hard time. I don't know what we would have done without it."

Several people spoke up, assuring Harry that they were glad to help, or saying how glad they were that he was doing better.

"I appreciate it, I really do," Harry said once they'd finished talking. "But there's another reason that Liz and I wanted to meet you all. I wanted to be the one to tell you that Liz and I have set a date for our wedding!" he finished, his voice filled with pride.

Gwen and Randy exchanged surprised glances with each other, and then with the people sitting next to them. The rest of the group did the same, before they suddenly burst out into cheers and applause.

"It's going to be this summer," Harry said, "and you're all going to be invited. Inviting you all here today is my way of letting you know, and to thank you all for the friendship you've shown Liz and I over the years. You guys are the best friends anyone could ever ask for."

The group broke up into several conversations after that, and Gwen found herself chatting with Liz and Kitty.

"So, which of us gets to be your maid of honor?" Kitty asked, before she, Gwen and Liz all giggled at that.

"Come on, I don't need to decide right now!" Liz said. "But it'll probably one of you, though. And you're both going to be bridesmaids, obviously."

"Not just that, though," Gwen said. "We get to help you pick out your dress, right? I mean, who else do you know that has better fashion sense? I mean, I'm a professional-I have years of experience," she finished.

Liz and Kitty burst out laughing.

"What?" Gwen said, a look of mock offense crossing her face. "Am I wrong?"

"Of course not, Gwen," Liz said. "But there's so much we've got to think about besides my dress. There's the venue, the minister, the guest list, the caterer…"

"Well, come on," Gwen said. "Am I supposed to do everything?"

"Hardly," Liz said with a smirk. "Harry's going to have earn his keep, isn't he?"

They giggled again at that.

Philippe Bazin was known for being able to command respect even without speaking. His impeccably cut Italian suits spoke to his wealth and fashion sense, his trimmed goatee and moustache gave him a faintly diabolical look and the piercing look in his eyes reflected his impressive intellect. For all that he was one of New York's three major crime lords, Bazin seemed as though he would be as equally at home at an editorial meeting of The New York Review Of Books as he would have been dining with the likes of John Gotti or Arnold Rothstein. His intelligence had allowed him to survive the upheavals in New York's mob scene over the last few years, and like Crimewave he had thrived while other players had lost their businesses, and in some cases their lives.

Tonight found Bazin dining at the Libertine, one of New York's finest restaurants. One of the Libertine's dirty secrets was that it had a frequent meeting place for organized crime figures for decades, who could often arrange private rooms for themselves and their guests. Bazin and his guest had gotten the red carpet treatment, and the Libertine's staff were given strict instructions that the diners were not to be disturbed except in case of an emergency. Instead, the patrons were left with a sirloin steak dinner fit for royalty and a bottle of fine port.

"I trust you're enjoying yourself, Mr. Bazin?" Jonathan Caesar asked, before taking another bite of pasta. "Everything was worth your time, I hope?"

"So far," Bazin said. He was calm on the outside, but mentally he was calculating why a socialite like Caesar would want to meet with him. Bazin was careful who he associated with, especially in a media-happy city like New York. "I'm curious, however, as to why you wanted to meet in person."

"Because I like taking the direct approach," Caesar said, "especially with an old friend. Namely, I'm interested in improving the 'quality' of the products sold at my nightclubs."

"Products?" Bazin said, raising an eyebrow before taking a drink of port.

"Right now I allow a few different sources to sell in my clubs," Caesar said. "Ecstasy and meth, mostly, but I'm concerned about both the impact of the drugs and the sources of the people who provide them."

Bazin's eyes narrowed. He was familiar, of course, with the rumblings in the underground party scene about increasing conflict between the different pushers of psychoactive drugs. He was himself heavily invested in the business, and he didn't appreciate the idea of anything disrupting a profitable trade.

"So what do you propose, then?" Bazin asked.

"A monopoly," Caesar said, "in one of the most prosperous markets in the city. You know how much money the club scenes generate. In exchange, you ensure that my clubs remain out of any conflicts that might ensue. Crimewave and that Van Lunt character might grumble, but they know better to oppose you…and the smaller producers won't dare to complain either."

Bazin took another drink of port. He and Caesar both knew that he didn't start gang wars-he finished them.

"Just keep my clubs safe," Caesar said. "That's all I ask."

Bazin ate in silence for several more minutes, keeping Caesar waiting.

"…I will consider it," Bazin finally said, as he cut himself another slice of beef.

Caesar only smiled.

As Bazin left the Libertine, one of the waiters hastened to open a door for him.

No one noticed the waiter's hand coming so close to Bazin's wrist…

…or the tiny chip the waiter released, one that landed on Bazin's wrist and swiftly burrowed beneath his skin.

One week later…

That should about do it, Gwen thought to herself, as she looked at her purchases. Three more pairs of Converse, and that makes eighteen in total, including the ones I'm wearing, she realized, looking down at the navy blue Converse sneakers on her feet.

In spite of herself, Gwen couldn't resist going on a bit of a shopping trip after she'd gotten paid for her recent modelling work and wanted to reward herself.

Indeed, things were going very well for Gwen. Her professors were all pleased with how well she was doing, especially the demanding Professor Huddleston, who'd reproached her for what he considered her lack of effort. Harry and Liz were also doing much better, and Randy and Kitty had patched things up as well. Gwen had gotten a lot of positive feedback from Kingsley Cosmetics for her recent modelling work, and some of her past employers like Imagic-Nation Costumes had also been contacting her for more work. She was also getting more and more exposure and positive reception through Fire Hearts, Fire Passion, her social media accounts. She also hadn't had to act as Spider-Woman in weeks.

For once, everything's going my way, Gwen thought, smiling brightly to herself as she left the mall.

Let's hope it stays that way…

"It's good to see you again, Frank," Crimewave said as he tossed his guest a beer and picked another one up for himself. "Not much trouble getting out?"

"When is it ever?" Frank Payne asked with a laugh as he and Crimewave opened their beers. "But no, it wasn't. I appreciate your greasing the wheels for me."

"Why wouldn't I?" Crimewave said. "The reason I picked you is because I need discretion for this one."

"So guys like Myers, Gargan and Shappe wouldn't cut it, huh?" Frank said, referring to some of his professional competitors.

"Do I even need to answer that?" Crimewave asked, before he and Frank both laughed.

"So I'm not supposed to cripple Bazin, is that it?" Frank said. "I'm supposed to just hassle him."

"More or less, yeah," Crimewave said, as his expression darkened. "Just to show him that I don't appreciate people pissing in my backyard. The club scene is mine, and if Bazin needs to know that, then I'll tell him."

"I thought he was already in it," Frank said, confusion crossing his face.

"Of course he is," Crimewave said. "So are Van Lunt and a few of the out-of-towners. That's the whole point-everybody gets a share. If Bazin suddenly thinks he can take it all for himself, he's got another thing coming. This is just a friendly warning."

"If he doesn't get the message?" Frank asked.

"He should," Crimewave said. "If he doesn't, then I stop being nice."

Frank blinked in surprise, but then he just shrugged.

He hadn't made a name for himself as the Constrictor by asking more questions than he needed to, after all.

(Next Issue: Everything seems to be coming together for Gwen as the month of April starts, as everything from her career to her grades to her social media accounts continue to do well. Jonathan Caesar continues to help her with her efforts, but the Chameleon's manipulations cause his professional and criminal activities to intersect. When Caesar is targeted by the Constrictor, can Gwen protect him as Spider-Woman? And how will she deal with the revelations of Caesar's crimes? All this and more in Spider-Woman 96: Ides Of March!)