Ultimate Spider-Woman Issue 10: Skool Daze free porn video

Issue 10: Skool Daze "Jessica, have you finished the paperwork?" the lady at the school office asked. Long Island City High felt like a good school and I was keen to get to classes and regain some normalcy in my life. The school was built of reddish brown brick, stood six storeys high and they called it LIC. The campus looked a little tired and underfunded. The office looked like it was from the previous century. But it ran smoothly and the people seemed enthusiastic. "Uh, Yeah," I responded. Using the ID from the FBI I was enrolling under the McKinney-Vento Act. I didn't have transcripts. I'd figure out school transcripts later. But it was back into year 9 for me. I wanted to sign up for AP maths - algebra and calculus, physics, biology and chemistry classes. English literature and drawing. Plus the required physical education, social studies and language classes. The lady eyed me. "You're up for all these Jess?" she asked. "Yeah. I am." I tapped my head. "I need to challenge myself." "Ok. Do you know anyone here?" she asked. I shook my head. "Not really. A guy named Roger." Aka Lyfe... And three Mo Money gang members - Julio Hernandez aka brow, Emile Jackson aka Hipster and Mathew Crozier aka baseball cap aka MC. "Um not really." "That's fine. Well we'll get you a buddy to show you around... come back here at lunch time and we can sort out some of this paperwork, and you can meet your buddy." She typed away then printed out my course list and timetable and pointed me through it. "Floor number. Room number. Teachers name. The room numbers are ascending east to west. Just show the teacher your itinerary. Mr Robins', the guidance counselled, his details are at the bottom. Your locker number and combination lock. Your laptop - take good care of it... The toilets and drinking fountains are at the east end of each floor. Good luck Jess." The bell went off signaling the end of first period. "Got it. Thanks." I headed to my first class, Drawing. Moving through the crowded corridors I tried to find my bearings and frowned when I spotted the three Mo Money gang members from the previous night dawdling in the corridor. They didn't see me so I lowered my head and moved past them. I sighed in relief. I didn't want to get in trouble on my first day. I found my class and headed in. I spotted Lyfe and nodded to him as I showed the teacher my transfer printout. "Jessica. Welcome to LIC," he greeted me. I felt the curious eyes of other students on my back. "I'm Mr Jones. We're happy to have you in our Drawing Class. Everyone, this is Jessica Drew, our new transfer student. Let's make her welcome. Jess would you like to tell everyone about yourself?" Mr Smith offered. "Um. Sure... hey. Yeah. Just transferred. It's just Jess. Still figuring things out here. Would appreciate any help. Looking forward to getting to know you all." I'd been giving my encounter with Mo Money some thought. "I'm generally a sciences and maths student but I've been studying mixed martial arts since I was a kid... so... hi." I waved. "Wax on, wax off!" someone joked. No one laughed. "Thanks Jess. Draw up a seat," Mr Jones said. Again no one laughed. I went over to Lyfe. "Hey. Um-" I wasn't sure what to call him. "It's Roger here," he said. "Okay. Yeah. I can't really draw that well. But I want to learn," I observed. A girl beside him looked up from her sketch pad and nodded. "'Sup? I'm Michelle," she said. "Ignore my dad. He thinks he's funny." "Hey Michelle. Jess Drew," I redundantly introduced myself. I looked from the African American teacher to Michelle, noting the familial similarities. "Yeah. I figured. Ironic name," Michelle observed, eyes indicating the drawing studio. "Yeah. A real misnomer," I agreed. She was weird in a cute sorta way. Michelle returned her attention back to her sketch pad as Roger showed me his growing portfolio. It was really good and it excited me. Then class began, the teacher quieting us. "Alright class. Let's get started. The set reading... Impressionism, post-impressionism and fauvism," Mr Jones said. "Who can tell me the difference?" In morning break I wall crawled stealthily up to the roof of the school building to work on the problem of my school transcripts. I wanted a quiet place to think and I figured this would be pretty private and I was right. The view from up here was great. I admired it for a while before I focused on my current problem. I had no school transcripts. I mulled over that. What I really needed was to copy and rename Peter Parker's school transcripts, lodge them on the Mid Town High system and get them to transfer them to LIC. To do that I needed to sneak into Mid Town High and doctor their records. I didn't worry about the FBI tracking me through the school system. They appeared to be mainly paper based here. My laptop was a junky twelve year old thing. The office computers weren't even flat screens. There was no central school database I was pretty certain. And whilst slightly better resourced, Midtown High wasn't much better. Maybe I could get Peter to help... nah. This already seemed overly complicated. It would be best to be a solo mission. Knew how to get in and out of my old school. I knew where the offices were. I put it on my growing to do list. Find a proper place to live and get a source of money for food, clothes and school. Find Krystal and expose Senator Stern, the FBI and whoever else was behind me. Avoid SHEILD. Be convincing as the average school girl Jess Drew, establish myself and keep a low profile at school whilst getting educated. Figure out who I was. Patrol and fight crime. A place to live. Hmmm I should keep an eye out for empty apartments. Squatting seemed to work... but making money... I heard laughing and voices approaching. "Well, well, well, look what we have here. I told you I saw her up here...." I looked up to see eight Mo Money gang members - Julio Hernandez with his brow piercing, Emile Jackson with his poor attempt at a Hipster beard and Mathew Crozier with his stupid backwards baseball cap. MC. Surprisingly the scar faced mugger from last night was there too. They had four other friends. This must be the crew they warned me about. I shouldn't have admired the view. That must be how they spotted me. "This is our roof. Can't you read the sign on the door?" "Hey guys. Sorry. I didn't know. I'm new here. Don't mind me. I'm heading to my next class. It won't happen again," I said casually. "We have unfinished business," MC growled. "Our clothes, gun and drugs?" "Yeah. Again, sorry boys. I binned them after our last little party. I did you a favour. If the cops arrested you with the gun and drugs you would have been in serious trouble..." I said as I moved to go around them. "You binned them? That's disrespectful..." MC growled darkly. "You seemed intent on raping me. That's disrespectful. You got off light. You get three strikes..." I noted darkly. "You can't beat eight of us," Julio threatened as they spread out to block my escape. "We never got to have our little party. Not so cocky now, are you?" I sighed. I could beat eight of them. The thing was, I wanted a normal life. I needed to blend in. I wasn't Peter Parker with a family and friends to protect. But I wanted friends. "I don't party..." I said. So instead of fighting I ran, trying to get around them. They all moved to block me. Which was what I expected. "Stop her!" Emile yelled. "Grab the little cow!" MC snarled. "Again you're calling me a cow. That's not nice," I observed. Using my wall crawl grip I stopped and changed direction on a dime, dropping under MC's grasping hands. I spun and dodged another and then a third. It was too easy. These guys didn't even know how to fight. In moments I was at the door to the stairs down from the roof. It was a solid steel thing, the lock disabled with gaffer tape, a clear Mo Money tag on the inside of it. I removed the gaffer tape and dropped it on the ground with a little flourish. Their eyes widened. "Stop her before she locks the security door!" Scar Face ordered. I didn't completely close the door - I held it open a sliver so the lock didn't engage. They saw and battered against it but my strength was far superior and they couldn't move it. "That's twice you've threatened to rape me. That's not cool, to say the least. Your second strike. Look guys, this is your last chance. I just want to go to school. How about we call it a truce," I suggested. "Go to hell!" MC snapped. "Fine. Should I just close this door and leave you guys locked up here then? I figure you'll be up here all day and will probably get in trouble when you are rescued..." I reasoned as they pounded uselessly on the slightly ajar steel door. They tried to wedge their fingers in but the gap was too tight. The school bell rang signaling the end of morning break. "Your choice. Hurry up. I have to get to class." "Let us out," MC said. "Your word as members of Mo Money. All of you," I asked. "All I'm asking for is respect." "Go to hell!" I waited. They argued for a minute. Finally they seemed to agree. "Okay. Okay. We're cool. Truce. Open the door," MC said. I waited till I heard words of assent from all of them. I opened the door and stood there, regarding them calmly. The eight gang members stared at me, shocked that I hadn't run. I wasn't acting like they expected. I wasn't scared or aggressive. Or antagonistic. They didn't seem to get it and it threw them off balance. "Damn. You got some cajones there girl..." MC approached and held up a finger in my face. I regarded him coolly, eyes narrowed as I faced him. I think he saw something in my eyes. He knew I wasn't a victim. Wasn't intimidated. He nodded. Then he went to slap me. I easily grabbed his wrist, his hand inches from my face. "I'm not feeling the respect," I noted evenly. He tried to pull his hand away. I held it firm. "It's a two way street. I will respect you if you respect me," I gave him a hint of my actual strength, squeezing a little, cocking one eye brow in question. His eyes widened and he grunted assent. I exhaled and let go. He rubbed his bruised wrist. "Cool. I gotta get to class," I turned and headed down the stairs. Hopefully that was the end of this stupidity. I bumped into Michelle on the next flight. She regarded me blandly as she started to walk down with me. "Your first day going ok Drew?" "Yeah. Mo Money. They don't like anyone else going up on the roof. I told them I was sorry and it wouldn't happen again," I said glibly. "Uh huh," she responded unconvinced. "I gotta get to chemistry," I said. "Room 312" "Yeah. Me too. I'll walk with you. Come on. We're running late," she said. "It's funny. I didn't see you go up onto the roof." I frowned. "Uh. Must have got there before you arrived." She smiled blandly at my explanation. "Must have... how else could you have gotten up there?" Had Michele seen? No my spider sense would have warned me. This girl made me nervous. Yeah today wasn't going well. Noon came around so l walked through the bustling locker lined corridors to the school office to drop off paperwork and meet my new guide. Michelle was sitting on a bench seat reading a tattered copy of Sylvia Plath's collected poems. She looked up and a lopsided, world wise smile twisted her lips. "Hey Jessica. I'm your buddy," she said as she put her book away in her backpack. "It's Jess..." I corrected her absently. "You're my buddy? Why aren't I surprised?" I asked as Michelle stood and took the transfer papers I'd prepared for the office. She looked them over. .".. Midtown High ... huh, homeless ... sorry." She looked up. "I'm here for extra credit. Plus showing the new inmates in this institution around has its rewards," she passed the papers over to the lady in the office. "Yeah," I agreed without much enthusiasm - I'd wanted to keep both those things quiet. Her choice of words was kinda odd. "Institution?" I asked curiously. "Everyone is institutionalized nowadays. It's a big social experiment reinforced by laws. You know. Prison, psych wards, pre-school, schools, they all try to make sure the inmates are turned into right thinking cogs in the machine. This place is just one big cookie cutter," she explained sardonically. I could see she was joking... I think. "Uh. Right. So why don't you home school," I asked perplexed. She snorted derisively. "Yeah right. Those people are completely maladjusted," she observed. "And my dad teaches here which is pretty close to being homeschooled making me partly maladjusted," Her logic was all over the place. "I can see that," I agreed. She laughed infectiously. "Well, what do you want to see first? Let me guess..." She tapped her lips in thought. "The library? Yeah. You look like a pasty library dweller. I mean you got sun burnt at morning break..." she observed. I frowned. True, I didn't have a tan. In fact I'd almost never been outside. Peter Parker had but me, Jessica Drew, hadn't. Today was the first day this body of mine had been touched by the sun. Had I got sun burned? I looked at my reflection in the window. I was a little red. Well. I hadn't expected that but it made sense. "The library is a good place to start I guess." We started to walk. "What's Sylvia Plath like?" I asked as we walked. "Dark. Doomed. Enigmatic. I like her," she summarised. I nodded. "So drama...?"she showed me the drama school as we walked. I shook my head. "Chess club?" A room full of nerds. I shook my head even though I figured I'd be at home there. "Dungeons and dragons club?" Another no shake of my head to a room full of different nerds. Again I could go there but decided not to. "Cheerleading?" I shook my head no with mild fear. I could do that easily but ... not in this life. "That's a relief. I do debating. That's my thing." "You like to argue?" I asked, unsurprised. "I like to think," she responded as we headed into the library. This place felt like my kind of refuge. "So Jess, why are you homeless?" she asked. "I'd prefer not to talk about it," I said. "Hmmm. I do this buddy stuff to figure people out. Observe people and see who they are before they start to conform to this place. This institution. All people are different... but you're a new kind of different, aren't you Jess?" she said. "What? Um... No Michelle. I'm just... new here," I responded on the defensive. Michelle laughed and gave me that crooked thoughtful smile that made me feel like I had food stuck in my teeth. I wanted to check to see if my costume was showing or something but I just shrugged. "I'm just messing with you. Come on. I'll show you the computer room..." "Cool," I responded. I felt a sudden strong tingle of my spider sense and became instantly alert. It passed immediately but I still looked about warily. "What's wrong?" Lyfe asked. "I'm not sure. Just a bad feeling," I told him, shaking it off. Whatever it was was gone now. It was past ten and we'd been working by a lone security light in the alley. I'd finished school, done my homework in the library and gone to grab some dinner at the shelter where I'd met Lyfe. We'd decided to come here and finish his mural. I put down my spray can and took a step back, admiring my work. Vandalism was a crime but I thought this was better than a blank wall. And this was art. "Good work... You don't do tags or write over another's mural or piece. It's street etiquette. Anyone who disrespects a piece gets all their tags erased or crossed out at best. It gets pretty aggressive sometimes, and Astoria has some gangs ... you know Mo Money, but there are Cheese Block and Dime Block - those gangs you don't want paying attention to you. The trick is to get to a blank wall first. Personally I don't care for tags. I Ike art..." he was filling me in on the local street art scene. I grunted as I focused with the can. I thought that my part of the mural was just alright. The proportions were pretty accurate and the colours complimentary. But it just lacked something. "The devil is in the detail," Lyfe observed critically. He picked up a black spray can and worked on the outlines, changing the weighting. Then he grabbed another can and worked on some colour transitions. "Murals are viewed from a distance so fine detail is only used minimally. Look at newspapers - old ones if you can and see how the grainy images come into focus from a distance. Move in. Move out. What we paint and what we see are not the same. You need to have both in mind as you work..." There was a part of the wall he let me play around on, giving me pointers, and I'd done a small, crude clone vat, glass tubed and full of oozing pink toxic waste. I'd worked on it in drawing class and my lunch break after Michelle's tour. Simple image. Lots of layering with colours and then fine work over the top. My motor skills... well I had some physical advantages and... I don't know, something clicked when I did this. It seemed I had this new knack. It was exciting. I'd always been mediocre in art. But this I felt natural doing. It was cathartic as well and I really needed that right now. Lyfe had painted the tubes and wires coming from my crude vat and transformed them gradually into vines and roots and branches that entwined his original image. It was grand and colourful, a techno organic image that could be either life affirming or a perversion of nature depending on your perspective. His work was head and shoulders above my crude ugly spray painting but I was understanding how he worked. He lay down base colours often used cardboard masks to get crisp lines and provide the final detail. I started to think about using my webs for a similar purpose. I was pretty accurate with them and was confident I could spin them in lines or curves of varying thicknesses. Lay down a base colour. Let dry. Mask with webbing. Paint over. Web dissolves. Instant stencil art. Kinda. I just needed an image to work from... Working close to the ground was easiest for Lyfe. He said had some ladders in his car for high work but that was time consuming. As a result he worked low down. Close to the footpath. I figured with my abilities height wouldn't be a problem - if I was working solo. Lyfe signed it 'Lyfe'. "Put your tag on it Phase," he said. I shook my head. "No. This is yours. I..." I hesitated. With what I had planned I didn't want any links to Lyfe. Or Roger as I'd now found out his name was. Lyfe shrugged. "I don't mind. But suit yourself." He yawned. "I'm calling it a night. If you don't have a place you can crash in my car," he suggested as he started to put away his paints. I sighed, a weight in my stomach, unsure how much to tell him. This was confusing for me. But I liked Roger.. "Lyfe. I've been through some pretty horrible stuff over the last month. It's why I'm on the street. Trying to deal with it is all I can handle right now. And I sure as hell don't want to drag you into it. It's just... I'm not in any state for a relationship, with a guy... or a girl. Now or possibly ever. What I really need is a friend." "Ooh," Lyfe said and laughed warmly. "That's not what I meant. You can't friend zone me cause I friend zoned you already," he grinned. "You're not my type unless I missed something. Girls just don't do it for me, Jess. It was an honest no strings attached offer. Just friends." I facepalmed and blushed. I was selling tickets on myself. I clearly didn't know how to pick up on signals. "Oh. Man. Sorry. I'm new to all this." I motioned at the world. "Don't worry about it. I don't. Trust me, there are too many small minded people out there worrying for us," He confided. "I've seen enough on the streets to know that people don't end up here by choice. A lot of kids have parents that don't understand... You... you're a great girl. Funny. Smart. Artistic. And even I can see you're very attractive." He grinned and winked. "You'll make a lucky guy or girl happy I'm sure. But friends." "Yeah. Totes," I responded feeling relieved and pleased. With that off the table I felt myself relaxing. This was great. Hang on. I was attractive? I was very attractive?! I'd... I mean... I rolled my eyes. Lyfe laughed. "I can deal with that. So I think we're done here. You want to grab a coffee and tell me about your folks and why you left them. We can share stories and figure out whose are worse." I grinned humourlessly. From a certain perspective my 'folks' were the FBI super assassin program and Doc OcK. You could say I had some parental issues. "Prepare to be defeated..."He smiled but there was no amusement there. I suddenly sensed that I might not have a monopoly on bad luck. "Or perhaps we can talk about our next mural," I suggested hopefully. "Awesomesauce. You're on." We went down into the subway and waited for a train. As we sat on the deserted platform my spider sense spiked for a second then subsided. I looked around, alarmed but there was nothing around to suggest a threat. The train rattled into the station, pretty much empty, and we jumped on. I frowned and looked about suspiciously. "What's up Jess? You're looking spooked?" Lyfe asked. "It's nothing... just... something walked over my grave..." I explained vaguely. "Oh," he stretched out in his seat and rested his feet on the seat opposite. I stayed standing warily. "I'm three stops away. There's a cheap all night caf? near the station and it's a short walk to my car," he explained. As the train trundled along in and out of the next two stations my spider sense started to tingle ever so slightly. I looked around nervously trying to place the danger. Again, nothing seemed out of place and there was no real immediacy to the danger. I just couldn't put my finger on it. It wasn't like anything I'd sensed before. "Hmm. I'm getting tired. Can I pass on that brainstorm." Lyfe shrugged. "Yeah. I'm kinda beat anyways as well." The train started to pull up to his stop. "You right to get to your digs? You can crash in my car if you want. It's tight but there is room." "Nah. I have a stray cat I need to feed," I responded. The half lie still made me feel bad. "Ok. See you later," he said as he disembarked with a fist bump. "In a while," I responded as I returned the bump. I watched Lyfe go, my sense of danger steadily growing, the empty subway train pulling away and accelerating through the dark tunnel. The platforms on this subway line were on either side of the tracks, not in the middle and I started to consider how to best exit this train given how my spider sense was acting. All by my lonesome. Not another soul on the train. That was ominous. I tried to pinpoint my sense of unease. It was hard. I moved my head and frowned. It was coming from somewhere below me. "What the...?" The sensation was near my upper left leg. I leant down. Not near my left leg. From my left leg. The upper thigh. I prodded. Right near my femoral artery. "Huh?" The train decelerated into the train station and my spider sense kicked in properly. "Oh crap!" I was moving as the machine gun fire tore through the train windows, shattering glass and tearing the upholstery seat I had just vacated to shreds. I twisted and dodged as bullets buzzed about me. Wind buffeted as safety glass was blown in by the cool night air. The lights flickered and died. I stayed low, out of sight as the train started to slow coming into the station proper. They were waiting for me? Then six grenades sailed through the gaping windows. Yep. Waiting for me. Spider sense buzzing intensely I immediately web lined to a support column on the other platform as it sped by, swinging out sideways from the shattered train window towards the other train tracks "Please let there be no twin going the other direction," I muttered as my web stretched tight and I shot out the window and kicked my legs to increase speed as the path of my horizontally arcing web line intersected a column between the two train tracks. The radius of my arc was decreased, accelerating me, and I found myself headed in the opposite direction to the train on the far platform. I pulled hard on the web to further increase my speed, narrowly missing a coke vending machine and support column. I let go of my web line to avoid swinging back into my vacated train. The grenades exploded loudly filling the underground station with debris, the metal flying all about me as I again twisted nimbly and the shrapnel missed narrowly. I think being slimmer and less muscular made me more nimble. My newfound agility was definitely saving my bacon so I was a reverberating cocophony was the worst part. In the close confines it made my teeth ache, the mind numbing explosion and horrible rending and tearing of metal like fingers down a chalk board. I skidded along the platform using my wall crawling fingertips and feet to arrest my velocity. I stared at my assailants. They wore FBI tactical gear clearly identifying them. "You guys aren't very good at this..." I observed as I threw my arms akimbo, webs shooting from my fingers into the chests of the two agents. Bullets traced along the floor towards me as I pulled them together and jumped upwards to give my pull extra strength. Superhero occupational health and safety tip, when beating on bad guys lift with your legs. As I ascended I half flipped to crouch on the ceiling. The two webbed thugs hit one another with bone jarring force. A flick of my wrists and the pair were lassoed together with my web and an easy tug had them dangling in the air. The smoke was thickening along the roof as I tied off my web end on a ceiling fire extinguisher pipe. "So how are you-" The fire extinguishers and alarms chose that moment to go off and I got a fateful or stagnant water. "My clothes!" I cried as I got the heck out of there, other agents shoot at me through blinding water, smoke and half working lighting. Somehow I knew there was something under my skin that they were using to track me. I had to get it out. It looked like they'd put it on my femoral artery though. I couldn't just cut it out with a knife myself. I'd likely kill myself. Which was why they put it there. Who could cut the tracker out? The X-Men? No I didn't want to go there. What if I ran into Kitty? Maybe Dr Strange? I think he was a doctor in name only. SHEILD? No. That was a terrible idea. I would end up in a cage. Maybe... Reed Richards? Would Reed help? I thought he might. He was the best of a bad lot of choices. Getting to the Baxter Building was easy. Just a whole pile of swinging. Fortunately the FBI didn't have aerial tactical units. They weren't SHEILD. I climbed up to the top and after climbing around for a bit I spotted what looked like Reed Richards. Did he never sleep? I knocked on the window. Reed looked up from his research curiously. He rubbed his chin reached to the window control with a stretch of his body to open it. I entered. "You know we have a front door... but I guess it's closed," He looked at his watch and grunted. "You're lucky I turned off the security systems.. So. You're one of the Parker clones right. From last night." "Yeah. Jessica. Jessica Drew. I'm really sorry to interrupt you Doctor Richards but I'm in a bit of a pickle," I said. "A pickle?" he asked. "Yeah. I'm being hunted. By the FBI. They have a tracker in my leg," I explained. "How do you know that?" He asked as he motioned me into a room with some really complex looking medical scanners. "My... I have what I call my spider sense. It warns me of danger. And it's coming from here." I pointed at my femoral artery. "I got ambushed by a squad of FBI agents sent to kill me. It's pretty bad. I'm worried they might kill a bystander. Or me." "Right then, lie down and take off your pants and jumpsuit. It's a onesy right?" I nodded as I removed my clothes and climbed up onto the examination table in my stolen underwear. "I'm glad you came. I must admit I have a scientific curiosity about what they did to you. Ethically it's reprehensible but the genetic implications are astounding." "Yeah," I grumbled as I lay down. "The Astounding Spider-Woman. That's me." He started a full biological scan and took a blood sample with my nodding consent. "You're correct. Some kind of electronic tracker, momentum powered, grafted about your femoral artery. If any standard medical practitioner sought to remove it you'd undoubtedly bleed out. But I think I can... oh wait. There is also a remotely detonated explosive. Small but lethal. They could have killed you anytime they wanted. They were likely trying to capture their investment," He pressed a button and a faraday cage was deployed about the table I lay on and most of the room. "That should block any signal and address the remote detonation issue. Now then... let's see..." he found a cylinder and filled a syringe with the contents then injected it into my leg. "Nanites. They'll sort that out," he said. "This is will be quite painful... I'm going to sedate you." "Wait. I-" I sat bolt upright. Reed Richards working on a nearby monitor and it looked like he'd been doing a lot of tests based on the extent of data he was revising. My data... he was in different clothes. I lay under a blanket. I'd slept... and I hadn't dreamed Peters walking life or dreams for the second night in a row. I stretched and yawned loudly. "How long was I out for?" I asked. "About twelve hours. I only got all the test results back just then," Reed looked my scans over closely. "Hmmm, what's this scar on your abdomen from?" Reed asked. "It's strange." I grimaced at the memory. "Hysterectomy," I said. I didn't know how I felt about that. "Really? Because... well either they are terrible surgeons... or..." he reviewed the scans of that the area. It all looked very much intact. God that was weird to see those images and know that was me. "No. Your Fallopian tubes and womb are intact. The work was clearly to access an ovary... hmmm they were harvesting eggs. Yes. Definitely. Quite a lot I'd say. Over five hundred thousand. Not so many that you'd ever notice but..." I lay there shocked. I didn't know how to take that news . "So... oh god... what would they want those for?" "To test? Or perhaps... fertilise. If they were trying to make super soldiers and cloning failed then en vitro might be an option..." he suggested. "Your genetics are quite incredible. You're a 99.6 percent match for the original Peter Parker. Oddly you're lacking some unusual trace biologicals that were present in both Peter Parker on the other clone I saw." "The symbiote," I said with understanding. "It linked us all together. I ran into it shortly after I escaped and it... did something to me. I think it absorbed itself back and severed the link... the mental link I had with my original was severed." "Symbiote?" Reed asked. "Yeah. You remember that crazy red thing from the other night. Not the fury one. The icky slimy amoeba like thing. My father, Richard Parker, and his partner Eddie Brock senior did most of the work on it. Curt Connors and Ben Reilly played around with their work... there is some link between the symbiote and the cloning process I think... we aren't just physical clones. We're mental clones..." "That's... disturbing. The traces biologicals are ... unlike anything I've seen. They don't act like they should." Reed shuddered then considered my last words and gasped. "My god. That means-" "I'm not just a girl," I stated with a grimace. "I'm Peter Parker," It was painful to admit. Sensing my pain Reed went back to his work at the scanner. "Right... I'm not seeing junk DNA on either you or Peter. That in itself makes you both unique. It's safe to say that your offspring would be quite... unique," Something beeped. "Ah. I forgot. Peter Parker is bringing Mary Jane Watson in for a check up to make sure there are no side effects from the Oz serum." "What! They're both coming here? They can't know I'm here," I said as I stood. "Why not?" he asked in confusion. "It's complicated. I promised I'd keep my distance from Pete - and Mary Jane doesn't know about all this." I motioned at my body. "I really don't need her involved. Being given Oz by a crazy clone has to have been traumatic enough. She will flip out if she knew about me," I said as I struggled back into my costume and clothes. I'd freak out if I saw him with her too. That would be too painful by far. "Well you can't go. I'm not finished and you can't leave the faraday cage. I'll deal with her check-up and then I'll finish with you," He walked to the edge of the cage and a new cage formed, creating two cages, a small one for him and a large one for me. Then his cage disappeared. "Wow. That's some fancy tech," I muttered. I sat down to wait. About a quarter hour later there was a noise and the door opened. The large, orange rock armoured form of Ben Grimm, the Thing, entered the lab. He clutched a bag of takeout and opened the fridge to grab a few beers. He popped one of the beers with his finger. "Huh. I know you," Ben said, voice deep and gravelly. He looked about, pulled out a seat then took a bite of his burger. "You're one of them clones right?" "Yeah. You're one of them Fantastic Four right?" I stated inanely. The guy grinned, rock moving about heavily. "Yep," he chewed. "Reed told me to keep you company. He didn't want you rushing off and getting killed. His words," We sat in silence. "Hey, do you mind if I ask a question," I started. God he was freakishly big. Poor guy. "No. But that was you question," he said with I grin. I rolled my eyes. "How do you cope with it?" I asked. "What?" he said and took another bite. "Looking down at your body and seeing something unfamiliar. I ask cause I'm going through my own freaky Friday. I'm not who I used to be," I said. "You're comparing your cute body with my... condition," he asked darkly. "Cute? Hardly. Especially since in my mind I'm a guy." "Really? Oh. I can see how that might be difficult. So you think you're a guy in a girl's body. Reed says you're about a month old... I don't understand." He continued eating. I eyed the burger enviously. "Well. Yeah. You see... I'm a mental clone of Peter Parker. So I have fifteen years of boyhood memories. Two girlfriends... when I look down I see something that shouldn't be," I responded. "It might not seem as bad as what you have to deal with... but let me tell you... when I look in the mirror I don't see myself. I see a thing too," I muttered. "You know, um, forget I asked." The Thing reached into his paper takeout bag and pulled out two more burgers and pushed one of them to me. The faraday cage let it in by enclosing it then unenclosing it inside. He unwrapped his burger and took a bite. I did the same gratefully. "Ok. I can see how that might be a problem. Jeez. If I woke up a girl I'd... well I don't know what I'd do." He grinned and I got the distinct impression he knew exactly what he'd do. He shrugged then looked off into the distance, thinking. "I can see how it might be hard." He took out another burger and pushed it into his mouth like it was a cookie. "Listen kid. I don't have any real answers. I've got a pretty thick skin so I try to not let it get to me. No joke intended. But I still feel and it still hurts even though I'm pretty invulnerable. I see people look at me. Judge me. I have to get my clothes custom made. Kids cry when they see me. Hells bells. I look in the mirror and I see a monster. Something not human. So yeah. It's not easy. But life ain't meant to be easy. Finding love, well that might never happen. Certainly not like other people." He took out another burger and popped it in his mouth, chewing noisily. "But... Being seen for who you are inside, well you hope that'll happen. With those you love and care about - it does. But, yeah, sometimes it doesn't." He shrugs and I think of tectonic plates moving. "But I've seen what people say about Spider-Man and all the bad press he gets. You rose above it all before and you will continue to do so." He got out another burger. "You gotta find the silver lining to things. I get to go places, see things, do stuff that other people only dream about. I've saved the earth. A coupla times. Had some grand adventures. So... that's how I deal with it." He looked me over. "I have my team. They're my family. I love 'em. Even if some of 'em don't really understand." He finished his burger. "But nothings perfect." "Yeah. I know what you mean," I empathised. I think Ben was my favourite member of the Fantastic Four now. I'd always admired Reed Richards and Sue Storm for their smarts but Ben was a real straight guy. Beneath that hard exterior was such a decent person. We shared a silent moment as we considered the hand that fate had dealt us. It wasn't the worst. We were alive and had powers and opportunities that most would die for. "That's you and me kid. Thing one and thing two." He grinned. "You ever feel like chatting about what's botherin' you I'm here. But next time you get to shout the food." "Deal Ben," I agreed. I decided to change the subject.. "So how's Johnny going? Is he at school?" "He's homeschooling." He grinned. "And let me tell you girl, he's a nice enough lad but... not really boyfriend material," Ben said. "Oh, no. He's not my type," I said blushing. "I figured," Ben laughed. A deep rumbling and I sensed he was making fun of me. "He thinks he's everyone's type..." Ben chuckled. "Boys will be boys." I laughed. "Mostly..." I finished my burger. "That's a tasty burger..." Ben sighed. "So. That's Pete Parker and his girlfriend in the other room?" Ben asked. They're boyfriend and girlfriend again? Must have been because of the kidnapping and the Oz and all the crazy. But... what about Kitty? I nodded slowly. He whistled. "So she was your girlfriend?" he asked. I made a sour expression. "It's complicated," I said. "I'm my own person now. We don't share memories from now on. In fact to me she is still the ex. Getting back with her... well it's a bad idea in my opinion. I love her though... it's a mess. Like crazy mad. But there is this other girl Pete was dating. Kitty Pryde. For some reason from what you say Pete seems to have broken up with her, but... I like her and if Pete is with MJ." I shrugged. "It's a mixed up, muddled up, shook up world... so messy." "Teen romances usually are." He chuckled. "I'll let you in on a secret kid. It never changes. You'd think you grow up and get wise, but it never happens. You always make mistakes." He sounded almost wistful. "Love is messy. The stronger the love, the bigger the potential train wreck..." "Yeah," I thought about Kitty. I imagined the look of loss and hurt on her face when she found out that Peter got back with MJ. I didn't want to see Pete and MJ. Thinking about them made me angry and jealous and sad. And I had no right to be angry. "Train wreck is the term for it," I agreed. I shook off the thoughts. "I'd offer you a beer but it is way too early and you're underage," Ben said. "Yeah. Being a month old I'll have to wait decades huh?" I joked. We sat in silence for a moment.. "I've been meaning to ask. Who do you guys use to manage your image. You know, copyright your likenesses and merchandising." "We have an agent that does all our merchandising and endorsements. He's pretty mercenary and I find it all a bit much. But you want that sometimes... you can make good money off it if you can stomach it. We also have good legal representation. Holland, Fry and Associates. Why...?" Ben asked. "You know that Spider-Man movie. It grossed almost a billion dollars and I... Peter Parker didn't see a single cent. I don't want to have that happen again," I said. Ben whistled. "Damn. That's rough. So how are you going to make money with a secret identity?" he asked. "Oh, I have that totally covered. The government gave me four identities. I figure I'll burn one of them to own Spider-Woman. No one is owning me," I stated firmly. Ben grinned. "Good for you." "Yeah... " Reed returned. "All done..." He pushed a control button and the faraday cage disappeared up into the ceiling. "I'll leave you egg heads to it," Ben laid a reassuring hand my shoulder and winked at me. "Take care thing two." "Thanks Ben," I said.