The Art Of War

Some of the people who looked at Philippe Bazin thought he looked like a philosophy professor, owing to his intellectual air, his calm, even voice and the thoughtful look in his eyes. Other people thought he looked more like the Devil, owing to his perfectly trimmed goatee, sharp tailored suits and his stoic, often cold demeanor. Both views were accurate in their own way, as Bazin was the intellectual leader of the most powerful crime syndicate in New York. He'd survived the wars that had toppled rivals such as the Kingpin, Silvermane, the Green Goblin and the Tomorrow Legion, and was known for finishing wars rather than starting them.

Bazin was not known for his reckless actions, but nothing else described his initiating a war with his rival crime boss Carl Wilkinson, alias Crimewave. He only realized how out of character he'd been acting when one of his lieutenants confronted him about it. When he finally considered what he'd been doing, Bazin realized something was seriously wrong and determined to find out what it was.

To do that, he'd visited physician Dr. Jonas Harrow. Harrow was known in the criminal profession for providing high-quality medical care for criminals, including supervillains, and their loved ones. Even the hardened criminals who employed him considered his fees extortionate, but they paid anyway. Dr. Harrow was second to none not only in conventional medicine, but also in detecting and treating psychic damage, magical curses, unusual science-related ailments, and other medical ailments that started appearing ever since the Fantastic Four's fateful space voyage.

Dr. Harrow subjected Bazin to a variety of tests, and now he was meeting with Bazin in his office to present his diagnosis. His short-cropped hair, beady eyes, coke-bottle eyeglasses, bushy moustache and unshaven stubble all made him somewhat unpleasant to look at, and Bazin wanted to get this meeting over with as soon as possible.

"You were right to come to me," Dr. Harrow said as he turned his computer monitor around to show Bazin. "There's a foreign entity in your body, one that's been connected to your nervous system."

Bazin was calm as he answered, but Dr. Harrow clearly saw the smouldering rage in his eyes.

"What is it doing?" he asked. "Has it had a negative impact on my health?"

"It's nothing harmful or fatal," Dr. Harrow said, "but damned if I know what exactly it does. You'd need to get someone like the Tinkerer or the Fixer to look at it-I'm not an engineer."

"Can you remove it?" Bazin asked. "Harmlessly?"

"Easily," Harrow said.

"Then do it," Bazin said.

Dr. Harrow dealt with some of the most dangerous people in America on a regular basis. He was hardened enough to rarely feel fear.

Despite that, he was very, very relieved not to be the object of the seething rage he felt emanating from Bazin.

SPIDER-WOMAN #106

THE ART OF WAR

Entry #4:

Pre-production on my masterpiece is nearly complete. My new accoutrements are well in progress, and the deuteragonist is growing rapidly. Malus reports she has the combined traits of both the star and the monster, and the Fixer reports that the educational devices she will need is fully operational.

All that I need now is to wait. Once everything is complete, Gwen Stacy's worst nightmare will come to pass.

She will regret ever being born, but she will be born again.

Through her new, truer self.

I can scarcely hold in my laughter long enough to put down my pen.

Once my laughter starts, it reaches new heights.

I like that.

"I don't understand why you decided to fire your attorney, Ms. Yanizewski," Judge Bill Robbins said as he pushed his glasses up on his nose. "I believe he advised you to plead guilty, and you're doing so. Why didn't you retain his services if you're going to follow his advice?"

Janice Olivia Yanizewski (or J. Olivia, as she called herself, as she hated the name Janice) only smirked back at Judge Robbins. She cut a stunning figure in her black dress, which went well with her long blonde hair and bright green eyes. The manic look in her eyes also meshed well with the eager grin on her face, revealing how much she reveled in the attention she was getting.

As the costumed supervillain Joystick, she was on trial for the many felonies she'd committed during her latest crime spree. Although she'd been defeated by the spectacular Spider-Woman, she didn't seem to be at all upset about it. In fact, she was eager to speak, and happily took the opportunity Judge Roberts gave her.

"Because he wouldn't let me give a shout out to all my fans," J. Olivia said with a smirk. She'd streamed many of her crimes on her social media accounts, as well as how she spent the proceeds of her robberies and her victims' reactions to what she put them through. She'd become a viral sensation on the Internet, and although her videos and social media accounts were quickly deleted they were re-uploaded on many other websites.

"Fans?" Judge Robbins asked in surprise. "What fans?"

"What fans do you think?" J. Olivia replied, scoffing as if it should have been obvious. "All my subscribers, my paid followers, everybody who's supporting me!"

"…Is that what motivated you to commit your crimes in the way you did?" Judge Robbins said, hardly able to believe it. "The fame?"

"Of course it is," J. Olivia said, the smirk returning to her face. "I got inspired by that Fire Hearts-Fire Passion chick Gwen Stacy. Once I saw all the shit she was doing on social media, I knew I had to get in on it. None of this would have been possible without her!" she said, turning back triumphantly to face the media.

"That's enough!" Judge Robbins said. "Ms. Yanizewski, I won't tolerate-"

"I want to thank all of you out there who helped me create a new kind of supervillainy, starting with Gwen!" J. Olivia said, ignoring the judge. "I couldn't have gotten this far without you! Don't just thank me, thank yourselves!"

"Who are you talking to?" Judge Robbins demanded, as he felt a sudden concern.

"Who do you think?" J. Olivia said, the smirk returning to her face as she gestured towards the media covering the proceedings. "Not just them, though-everybody who's watching right now!"

"…Watching?" Judge Robbins said in alarm. His bailiffs approached J. Olivia, wary of any attempts she might make to attack or escape.

"Watching my streaming this whole trial!" J. Olivia said before she burst out laughing. "I'm just glad I got a hottie like you as my judge. I always had a thing for silver foxes!"

"…Streaming?" Judge Robbins said in shock as he glanced around. His bailiffs, the media and everyone else in the courtroom started looking around for any sort of device J. Olivia might have smuggled in.

"Look up behind you," J. Olivia said with a laugh, gesturing with her head up behind Judge Robbins.

As everyone in the courtroom looked up past the judge, they saw a small device floating in the air. It was one of the streaming devices J. Olivia bought from the Tinkerer to record and stream her videos.

"How did-" Judge Robbins said in alarm.

"Cloaking devices are a funny thing, aren't they?" J. Olivia said, the smirk returning to her face. "And with how they build control modules these days…" she said, pointing to one of her earrings.

"Get rid of that thing!" Judge Robbins shouted at one of his bailiffs, turning red with embarrassment. "You're just lucky that footage won't get on the Internet, young lady," he said, turning back to J. Olivia.

"Too late for that, silver fox," J. Olivia said, her smirk growing wider. "We were streaming live! Like I said, it's amazing what computers and control modules can do these days…" she said with a smile, pointing to her other earring.

Judge Robbins only fumed silently, all too aware of J. Olivia smirking at him and the media reporters writing diligently behind her.

Bazin sat alone in his study, pondering the strange turn of events. It was past midnight, and the study was nearly dark except for Bazin's desk lamp. In his hand, he held the tiny computer chip that Dr. Harrow surgically extracted from him and that the Fixer confirmed was a form of mind control device that induced whoever it was planted in to take actions that the controller desired. It all became clear to Bazin, as whoever planted the chip in him wanted him to take actions that went against his interests.

Now, Bazin was thinking about who could have planted it on him.

He doubted it was Crimewave. The younger man was acting just as out of character as Bazin himself, and Bazin suspected that he was planted with the same control chip too. He wondered if the police or a superhero like Moon Knight might have done it, but that didn't seem likely either. The scheme actually increased the risk of innocent people suffering in the crossfire of Bazin's and Crimewave's war, something that Moon Knight would never want. His corrupt contacts in the NYPD hadn't said anything about the police doing it either, and Crimewave's NYPD contacts likely hadn't told him anything either.

Then Bazin wondered who could have planted such a chip on him anyway. He thought back over the past several weeks to all the major engagements he'd participated in, and all the people he knew who he'd been in contact with. Most of them wouldn't have had the chance to plant a device on him, and the rest wouldn't have any reason to make him act erratically.

Unless…

Bazin gave little notice to the various wait staff, ushers and other service industry workers he and many other high class people dealt with on a regular basis. Most of Bazin's fellow elites didn't give them much notice either. That allowed most of those service staff to regularly get in close contact with their employers-very close contact.

Bazin realized it didn't matter who exactly planted the control chips on him and Crimewave. Any number of disguise experts could have done it either by using their superpowers or mundane skills. What mattered to him was who directed that he and Crimewave were planted with the chips.

Once again, Bazin thought of the thick tomes that spanned the walls of his library. One of them was The Whole Art Of Detection, the encyclopedia of crime-solving penned by Sherlock Holmes, likely the greatest criminologist and detective to ever live. Among Holmes's first observations was that the most difficult crime to track was the one that was purposeless.

Bazin considered who might benefit most from him and Crimewave crippling each other in a war, and who wouldn't care about any innocent bystanders getting caught in the crossfire.

It hit him when he remembered one of his favorite adages from Sun Tzu, namely that true strength consisted of defeating the enemy without fighting.

Cornelius Van Lunt had stayed well outside the war between Bazin and Crimewave, quietly continuing to make money while his competitors stagnated. Van Lunt's syndicate was the weakest of the three main New York mobs, as Bazin and Crimewave survived the wars that had run other crime bosses out of business.

Bazin knew rationally that he might be wrong in suspecting Van Lunt, but in his heart he knew he was correct.

And he was going to show Van Lunt why people said he didn't start wars.

He finished them.

Two days later…

Gwen logged into her Twitter account, eager to share her plans for August with her Fire Hearts-Fire Passion social media network. She had profiles on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and Tumblr, which she used to connect with potential job opportunities, make herself known and respond to fans. Fire Hearts-Fire Passion was the theme she used to tie them all together.

She wasn't prepared for what was waiting in her notifications.

Nice going, bitch. This is all on you.

How much money did you get from this little set-up?

Joystick's targets should get to whore you out for what you owe them!

Somebody's going to come collecting, you cunt!

I can't believe I fell for your stupid act. You spoiled white girls are all the same.

Many of the comments were linked to news articles about Joystick's crime spree and how she'd linked her social media network to Gwen's during her trial. As Gwen read through the articles describing Joystick's crimes and the hateful comments directed at her, Gwen suddenly grabbed her forehead as she started to suffer a piercing headache. A moment later, she had to grab her stomach with her other hand as she suddenly felt it churning.

She sat there for several long minutes, breathing heavily as she tried to keep her rising anxiety under control. She felt tears forming in her eyes, but she managed to wipe them away.

Guilt, anxiety and rage all swirled through her mind. One moment she felt horror at Joystick's crimes, the next she felt rage at Joystick and everyone attacking her, and then she felt guilt at being upset when Joystick's victims had gone through so much more.

Then the cycle started again.

Finally, Gwen managed to log out of Twitter, even as the hateful comments kept popping up in her notifications.

She continued sitting there for several moments, trying to figure out how she should feel and how she should react.

Elaine Coll was bemused by how easily Philippe Bazin arranged it all. Despite serving multiple life sentences for the many murders she'd committed, Bazin managed to get her signed out on what the henchmen who drove her to Bazin's manor called a 'work release program'. She could only imagine how much money Bazin had to spend bribing crooked prison officials to get her released. He clearly needed her for something very important, and that made her eager to hear what it was.

Elaine shook her shoulder-length brown hair as she walked into Bazin's study and sat down across from him. She was tall, some five feet and ten inches in height, and her frame was solidly muscled. The look in her eyes was both cold and energetic at once, more than ready to strike at anyone or anything that enraged her. She was dressed in a dress shirt and slacks, which Bazin had provided so she wouldn't have to meet with him in her prison uniform.

She and Bazin stared at each other for a moment as they sized each other up. They had history from a previous mob war when Elaine killed several of Bazin's men while in the employ of the Rose, the original leader of the syndicate Cornelius Van Lunt now headed. Elaine doubted that Bazin would spend all this time and money getting her released just to kill her, but she didn't want to leave anything to chance.

Bazin remained impassive, and Elaine realized he was expecting her to start. She decided that was fair-she'd always hated waiting.

"So what's this all about? Are you going to hire me, or kill me?" she said, folding her arms.

A rare smile crossed Bazin's face.

"Hire you, of course," he said, amused at Elaine's bluntness. "I've seen how effective you are at your job."

Elaine returned his smile.

"Always happy to meet a fan," she said, "but I don't work for scale. Not to mention I'll need a new work uniform," she pointed out.

In response, Bazin snapped his fingers. A henchman came in carrying a large case, which he lay down next to Elaine. She eagerly opened it up, and a wicked leer crossed her face when she saw that it contained a dark green armored body suit with a matching facemask. Her leer grew even wider when she saw the long whiplike mechanism the case also contained, one that ended in a viciously tipped spike.

Ignoring the presence of Bazin and the henchman, Elaine stripped off her shirt and slacks and replaced them with the green costume. The henchman blushed and ran out of the room, but Bazin remained silent as Elaine put on the facemask and then connected the whiplike mechanism to a device on her back. The mechanism hummed to life, cracking like a whip before slithering around Elaine's legs and one of her arms as she sat down. She started petting the device's spiked tip with her free hand, smiling at Bazin.

Elaine, now in her costumed guise of Scorpia, took a deep breath and relaxed, now much more at ease.

"Your thug acted like he'd never seen a woman before," she said, gesturing at the door where the henchman had fled. "And you…you were just a statue. I must be losing my touch."

"I concern myself with more strategic things, such as your target list," Bazin said, not missing a beat.

"Ooh, I love it when men talk dirty to me," Scorpia said, as her tail suddenly stood up straight and hard.

"We're going to him them all at once," Carl Wilkinson, alias Crimewave, said to his lieutenants before he did another line of cocaine. "Show Bazin that he's not the only one who can finish a fucking war."

Crimewave was one of New York's three major crime lords. He was also the youngest, combining the persona of a wealthy young socialite with the ruthlessness of a new generation of criminal. He adopted the nickname 'Crimewave' in imitation of the trend among young mutants to give themselves codenames even when they weren't costumed heroes or villains. He always dressed in the most up to date fashions, wearing a sport jacket and slacks. He was also one of New York's biggest sneakerheads, wearing Converse, Adidas or Nikes with his business attire as the mood struck him.

His lieutenants were much the same, trendy youths who came from both old money and nouveau riche families. He'd promoted them in place of many of his older lieutenants who'd been killed in previous gang wars, most notably his former 'arranger' Oswald P. Silkworth.

When Crimewave proposed starting a war with Bazin, his lieutenants eagerly jumped at the idea. They had strategy sessions over alcohol and cocaine, making the rounds of the trendiest nightclubs in town. Tonight was the meeting where they discussed what they intended would be the final move in the war with Bazin.

Crimewave was having the time of his life. Once he finished off Bazin, it would be easy to destroy that fat idiot Cornelius Van Lunt. Then he'd be the only boss left in New York, and the city would be his for the taking.

Crimewave and his lieutenants were all so high that they didn't immediately react to the window of their suite shattering. A few of them turned to see what happened, and one of them screamed immediately as a mechanical tail lashed out and cut his throat open with the spike on the end of it.

Scorpia stood in front of the window she'd smashed to get into the suite, smiling evilly at her targets. She cracked her mechanical tail, splattering the blood of the lieutenant she'd just killed all over his friends.

Some of the lieutenants reached for their guns, but Scorpia was faster. The tip of her mechanical tail glowed brightly before she fired a blast of electrical energy at the lieutenants, killing two of them on the spot and leaving another one screaming in agony on the floor. She followed up by leaping into the middle of the lieutenants, slashing both with her mechanical tail and the claws in her gloves.

In less than a minute, the lieutenants were all dead, lying in a pile of torn corpses with Scorpia standing in their midst. She laughed hysterically, not seeming to care that she was splattered with their blood. Only Crimewave was left alive, and before he could run Scorpia's tail snaked out and wrapped around his throat. Lifting him into the air, Scorpia's tail dragged him back to stare into her eyes.

"You know, you'd be a lot cuter if you didn't take so much of that nose candy," Scorpia said as she got a close look at Crimewave's face. "Your eyes look fucked up, your nose looks even worse and you look like your own older brother. Seriously, have you seen what that shit's been doing to Lindsay Lohan?"

"…Fuck you," Crimewave muttered despite Scorpia's grip on his throat. He opened his mouth as if to spit at her, but he choked it back when Scorpia tightened her grip.

"Okay, that's just rude," Scorpia said, "especially when I'm trying to give you some beauty tips. I suppose it doesn't matter, though. I'm really just here to remind you of something. Philippe Bazin is the only one who finishes gang wars in this town."

With that, Scorpia flexed her tail, snapping Crimewave's neck while slashing his face with her tail's poisoned spike.

Nodding in satisfaction as she relaxed her tail, dropping Crimewave's lifeless corpse to the floor, Scorpia considered her next move. For some reason, Bazin had instructed her to wait several days before going after her next target. She was to inform him once Crimewave and his lieutenants were dead, after which he'd wire the first payment he'd agreed to.

Scorpia didn't know why Bazin wanted her to wait a while, and she didn't care. She was back to making bank doing what she loved, and she'd be ready when Bazin wanted her to move again.

Until then, it was party time.

Several days later…

Alistair Darkholme, alias the Chameleon, alias Cornelius Van Lunt, alias the Rose, carefully pruned his roses as he contemplated his next course of action. He used his mutant shapeshifting powers and his natural skills at deception and bluff to create false identities to run his criminal empire. He'd first passed himself off as a masked sophisticate calling himself the Rose when he first organized his crime syndicate. When retaliation from rival crime lords forced him to fake the Rose's death, he passed himself off as the balding, rotund Cornelius Van Lunt, pretending to be his own successor. Although the Rose had just been a front, Darkholme found he enjoyed the horticulture hobby he'd started as part of the persona.

That horticulture helped Darkholme deal with the frustrations he encountered running his syndicate. Despite his best efforts, his syndicate wasn't as powerful as Bazin's or Crimewave's. He hatched a new plan to eliminate the competition, namely by getting them to eliminate each other. Using his shapeshifting ability, he got close to both his rival bosses and injected them with small mind-influencing computer chips.

The chips were left over from a scheme hatched by the Kingpin to try and control various city officials, but Darkholme found a new use for them. Under the chips' influence, he'd made Bazin and Crimewave have a gang war against each other. The war had ended with Crimewave now dead, courtesy of Scorpia, and Darkholme was pleased with the scheme's outcome. Now, he had to decide how to kill Bazin and the costumed hero Spider-Woman.

Darkholme loathed both his criminal rivals, but he nursed a special hatred for Spider-Woman. Despite her tender years, she'd been a constant thorn in his side and one of the main reasons his syndicate hadn't grown as quickly as he wanted.

He didn't just want her to die, he wanted her to suffer.

He was already thinking of ways to destroy both her and Bazin. When he met with his lieutenants at the Crystal Rose Palace, one of the city's finest dining establishments, he'd lay out the details.

Darkholme plucked one of his finest roses. He contemplated how Spider-Woman was as lovely as a rose herself, and how much of a thorn he considered her.

He brutally crushed the rose to a pulp in his hand.

"I don't know what to do," Gwen said to her boyfriend Randy Robertson as they walked home from their lunch date. "I've tried explaining myself, but I'm still losing subscribers. And some of the hate messages…" she trailed off, shuddering.

Randy put his arm around Gwen's slumping shoulders, a look of dismay on his face. He hated seeing Gwen upset like this, whether it was for the horrors she encountered as Spider-Woman or the problems she went through in her civilian life. Even if her experiences weren't the same as the ones he encountered as a young black man, he could sympathize with the anxiety and frustration she often felt.

He also had an idea of how to respond to the hateful attacks she was experiencing, based on hard-won experiences.

"Maybe you need to change tactics, Gwen," Randy said. "You've probably heard how the best defense is a good offense, right?"

Gwen looked up at him, her dismay replaced by confusion.

"Well, yeah," she admitted. "But how does that…"

"The civil rights movement wasn't all cake and pie," Randy said, frowning as he recalled everything his parents and grandparents told him and everything he'd read about the upheavals of those past decades. "Leaders like Dr. King had to say some pretty blunt and confrontational things to achieve what they did. They threw white peoples' bullshit back in their faces."

Gwen thought about that for a few moments, but she wasn't entirely convinced.

"This isn't the same thing as-" she said, before Randy interrupted her.

"Of course not," Randy said, shaking his head, "but the same tactics might just work."

Gwen was silent as they resumed their walk, but Randy was pleased to see the contemplative look on her face and the determined gleam in her eyes.

That evening…

The Crystal Rose Palace was an upscale New York dining establishment, a rival to the famous Libertine. While the Libertine went for a more outgoing, glamorous style, the Crystal Rose Palace had a more patrician, classical atmosphere. The Libertine was more likely to be patronized by movie stars, professional athletes and other celebrities who enjoyed the limelight, while the Crystal Rose Palace was favored more by old money bluebloods, European aristocrats and captains of industry.

It was Alistair Darkholme's preferred restaurant in his Van Lunt and Rose identities, but he appreciated it in his natural persona too. Unlike his sister Mystique, who used her mutant powers for political terrorism, Alistair used his powers as a spy and saboteur, giving him the chance to mingle with-and in some cases actually be-the wealthy and powerful.

Alistair was pleased to hear of Crimewave's recent demise, and pleased that Bazin won their war. He'd always liked and respected the intellectual Bazin more than the hedonistic idiot Crimewave, and almost regretted that he'd have to kill Bazin.

Now, enjoying a fine supper with his lieutenants, he went over his plans to finally do the deed.

Layer upon layer of deception was finally paying off.

Scorpia scowled as she climbed the exterior of the Crystal Rose Palace. She hated places like this, hated the people who patronized them, hated what they stood for.

People who thought their shit didn't stink, who acted as if you should be thanking them for making you shine their shoes, who thought their money gave them the right to treat people without it like yesterday's garbage.

Scorpia hated it.

She fucking hated it.

It was one of the main reasons she'd become a supervillain, to get back at all those rich fuckwads who always looked down their noses at her and her family. It was one thing if you treated her with respect-that was why she liked working for the Rose and Bazin, after all-but too many of these bastards thought that money could buy class.

When Scorpia reached the third floor and she saw Cornelius Van Lunt dining with his stooges, her tail immediately stood at attention.

It was showtime.

Spider-Woman swung through the early summer evening, her mind whirling with what Randy told her. She hadn't checked into her social media network since she got home, not wanting to deal with any more vicious personal attacks. Needing to be alone, she decided to do some web-swinging instead, hoping it might clear her head.

By itself, web-swinging didn't really help Spider-Woman. Her thoughts kept drifting back to Joystick and the social media hate directed at her, and Randy's advice on how to respond. Randy's advice had always been good before, but Spider-Woman was hesitant to follow it this time. She was worried that if she punched back, the online hate would get worse-

Spider-Woman was jolted out of her thoughts by the shouts and cries she heard a couple of blocks over. A loud crash filled the air, one that sounded distinctly like shattering glass to Spider-Woman.

Shaking her head, she swung towards the sounds, her previous thoughts immediately forgotten.

Alistair was caught completely off guard when Scorpia smashed through the window into the Crystal Rose Palace's dining room. His guards immediately stood up, drawing their guns to protect him, but Scorpia immediately blasted one of them dead with an energy bolt from her mechanical tail. She leapt forward, the guards' bullets bouncing harmlessly off her armor, and ripped the second guard's throat open with her tail's stinger. As she landed, she tore into the third guard with her clawed gloves, crushing his chest and killing him instantly.

People screamed in horror and stood up to run, but Scorpia ignored them all. She focused solely on Van Lunt, who ran with surprising speed despite his portly frame. Her tail struck with lightning speed, wrapping around Van Lunt's waist and picking him up into the air. As Van Lunt struggled to free himself, aided by some of his lieutenants, Scorpia extended her tail and drove its stinger into Van Lunt's throat. Scorpia followed up by injecting him with a flood of toxic venom, causing him to writhe and scream in agony.

Scorpia heard an angry shout from behind her, one she was all too familiar with. Whirling around, she saw Spider-Woman land in the room and charge towards her. With a flex of her tail, she threw the dying Van Lunt at Spider-Woman, laughing as the younger woman braced herself to catch Van Lunt's body. Spider-Woman realized too late that Van Lunt was already dead when he landed in her arms, and screamed in agony as Scorpia struck her with an energy blast from her tail. Scorpia quickly followed up her advantage, slashing at Spider-Woman with her claws and stinger, forcing Spider-Woman back.

Spider-Woman dodged desperately, barely managing to avoid Scorpia's attacks. Unfortunately, Scorpia was ready for that, spraying poison from her tail in a wide arc. Some of the venom flew towards several of the restaurant's patrons, and Spider-Woman stopped dodging to spin a wall of webbing to shield them. Unfortunately, while Spider-Woman successfully blocked the venom flying at the patrons, she left herself vulnerable to the venom flying at her.

Spider-Woman screamed in pain as the venom splattered her, as her entire body was wracked with a burning sensation. She barely managed to dodge Scorpia's tail as it scythed down towards her, but she was blown off her feet when Scorpia shot an energy bolt at her from point blank range. Scorpia's tail stabbed at her again, and she barely managed to catch it. Scorpia tried to lift Spider-Woman up with her tail, but she stubbornly held on, using her wall-crawling abilities through her feet to anchor herself to the floor.

Spider-Woman's hands glowed brightly with her sting blasts, and she channeled them directly into Scorpia's tail. It didn't do any good, as Scorpia's improved tail was nearly immune to anything Spider-Woman could do to it. Scorpia just laughed at Spider-Woman's efforts, and twisted her tail around to point its stinger at the younger woman's face.

Spider-Woman tried desperately to figure out what to do. Her entire body ached with the effects of Scorpia's poison and blasts, and she wasn't sure how long she could keep going. Scorpia had her on the defensive, and she knew one more hit could finish her.

Randy's words flashed across her mind, and she suddenly got an idea.

To Scorpia's surprise, Spider-Woman released her grip on her tail and jumped straight up. Spider-Woman sprayed her webbing straight down, gluing Scorpia's tail to the floor. As Scorpia pulled her tail, determined to tear it free, Spider-Woman came down again and grabbed the tail. Spinning in place, Spider-Woman pulled Scorpia into the air, flinging her into a nearby wall. Scorpia crashed into the wall and bounced off, slumping to the ground as Spider-Woman lunged at her. Spider-Woman hit Scorpia with a vicious double chop on either side of her throat, before putting her hands on either side of the older woman's head. Spider-Woman fired a double sting blast at point blank range, causing Scorpia to scream in pain.

Spider-Woman's anger and frustration boiled over as she started viciously beating Scorpia. Scorpia tried to strike back with her claws, but Spider-Woman simply grabbed her wrists and started kicking her in the face and chest. Scorpia finally managed to free her tail, tearing a part of the dining room floor up with it, but as she brought it in Spider-Woman caught it with her webbing. Soon, Spider-Woman started swinging the tail again, this time beating Scorpia in the head with her own tail. Too dazed to reassert control of her weapon, Scorpia couldn't stop Spider-Woman knocking her senseless with it.

Several people cheered Spider-Woman as Scorpia fell unconscious, but she wasn't in the mood to accept their praise. She walked over and looked at the dead bodies of Van Lunt and his guards, a hollow ache in her stomach as she realized she was too late to save them.

I'm so sorry, Spider-Woman thought, as she knelt down next to Van Lunt's body. I didn't get here in time, and you all paid the price.

Anger, disgust and frustration all whirled through Spider-Woman's mind as she leapt out the restaurant's window and swung off into the evening.

There wasn't anything more she could do about the damage Scorpia had caused, but she could still do something about the damage Joystick caused.

"Does making sexual threats make you feel better about yourselves?" Gwen asked the camera as she filmed a response to all the attacks she'd gotten on Fire Hearts-Fire Passion. "It's not enough to just insult me-you have to call me a cunt or a bitch, and threaten to rape or whore me out."

"Those kinds of threats say a lot more about you than they do about me," Gwen continued. "And frankly, what they say is disturbing. Not to mention a lot of you are too cowardly to put your names to your threats. That's the perfect way to show how tough you really are, isn't it? Threaten someone from behind your screen and saying something you'd never have the guts to say in public!"

The pain and stress of the last few days, not to mention the exertion of her recent battle with Scorpia, were plain on Gwen's face. Her eyes flashed defiantly with the refusal to give her critics any ground, making it clear what she thought of their insults and threats.

"You think I don't care about what Joystick did to those poor people?" Gwen said. "Well, of course I do, because I've been there. She's actually targeted me. I know what Joystick's other victims have gone through!"

In the video she eventually released on her social media network, Gwen  included screenshots of the news articles covering Joystick's attack of the auditions of a movie Gwen had auditioned for, in the video. The realization that she was Joystick's target caused the movie's production team to immediately dismiss her, despite her pleas that she didn't know anything about why Joystick targeted her.

"I'm sorry for everything Joystick put those poor people through," Gwen said. "I wasn't responsible for it, though. How do you know Joystick wasn't just making crap up for more social media clout? That's probably all it was."

"I'm glad Joystick's finally getting punished for everything she did, and that her targets are getting justice. But please, leave me alone! I didn't cause this, and attacking me won't change anything that Joystick did. Please think about that before you respond."

Gwen shut off the camera and started to work on editing the video. She could only hope it was enough-she wasn't sure what else to say.

Three weeks later…

Gwen was relieved to finally have some stability in her life again. Randy's advice worked as well as anything else she could have done. Within the first twenty minutes of uploading her video to her social media networks, she was already getting apologies and thoughtful comments from people, including several of the people who'd attacked her. Her subscription numbers had stopped falling, and even started climbing again, although she wasn't yet where she previously was. A few of the respondents still cussed her out and said they'd never follow her again, but she realized they probably weren't the kinds of followers she really wanted anyway. The whole thing blew over after a few days, and soon her social media routines were back to normal.

After her recent encounters with Joystick, Scorpia, Tendril and Swarm, Gwen was glad she hadn't had to act as Spider-Woman either. She'd been able to focus on working and preparing for her final year of university, which was coming up in September. She was going to be a senior, and with luck she would finally graduate.

Finally, in mid-August, Gwen went for a walk. The sunshine felt wonderful, and the sense of peace she felt was even better. She felt refreshed and eager for the next chapter of her life. As her mother Helen Lieber-Stacy had asked her, she got the mail before coming home. Most of the mail was junk or bills meant for Helen and Gwen's Aunt Nancy Stacy, but there was one letter intended for Gwen.

Surprised-after all, who sent paper letters anymore?-Gwen opened the letter to see what it said.

BEWARE, BEWARE!

NO MATTER WHAT YOU DO, JACK O' LANTERN IS COMING FOR YOU!

HAPPY HALLOWEEN, GWEN!

Gwen stared in utter horror at the words in the letter, colored a dark red the color of dried blood, as she realized what they meant.

During her ensuing panic attack, Gwen was vaguely aware she was screaming. However, her attention was more focused on her spider-senses, which allowed her to track anyone she marked with her pheromones, suddenly triggering and then deactivating again.

Over and over again.

Jack O' Lantern apparently knew how to activate them, and he'd done it the last time Gwen fought him as Spider-Woman.

Now, he was doing it once more.

That was when she knew that Jack O' Lantern was watching her.

She didn't know how, but he was watching her.

Her spider-senses triggered once more.

Gwen was sure she could hear his laughter, a laughter she also heard in her nightmares.

(Next Issue: Gwen reels from the knowledge that Jack O' Lantern is back and potentially stalking not only her, but her friends Kitty Pryde and Ben Reilly, Jack O' Lantern's niece and nephew. When she's unable to act as Spider-Woman, she receives the shock of her life when a new Spider-Woman appears, one with a dark new agenda of her own! All this and more in Spider-Woman #107: Clone Saga, Part One: Double Identity! Guest-starring the amazing Spider-Man!)