Third Act Problems: Everything Old Is New Again

By C. Mage

They're coming now. I always knew they would.

I see the lights on the road and look around. The houses around me in this place are occupied, but only my lights are on. I don't sleep much anymore, so I keep them on all the time. They're coming to my house.

I look around at my living room. Sparse, but I like it that way. No reminders of the life I had before. No books. No pictures of my wife. The TV only gets informational channels, but I rarely watch them anymore. Besides, they're all fake.

Sixty-four years. Sixty-four long goddam years. Took them long enough to catch up with me. When I first realized they were coming, it was two years after I came here. Two years after I realized the nature of the world around me. It became so clear, it was practically blinding. How could I have existed for a few moments without realizing the truth?

Well, I'm too old, too jaded to worry about why they're coming. I used to think about their possible reasons, spent more than a decade when I'd wake up in the middle of the night and ask myself, "Why?" Then I started asking "why" about a lot of things.

I don't ask anymore. I don't care. It doesn't matter. What only matters now is the answer I'll give them. I've thought about my answer for more than thirty years. Will telling them give me any satisfaction? Any at all?

I sighed and picked up my shotgun and stepped out on the porch. The car was coming up the driveway.

Bad things come to those who wait.

When the car stopped and the doors opened, I recognized them all. I knew who they really were. I wondered if they recognized me, with all the years gone by, years of pain and loss and madness and exhaustion. Probably took them a while.

First one was as tall and as formidable as I remembered him. Whatever rules governed this world, they spared me senility. One more thing to blame these people for. He was blond, powerfully built. He wore a modest suit, perfectly ordinary. The second woman was blond as well, wearing white. She always wore white, even when she was pretending to be a psychiatrist for the last seven months. I bet she thought I wouldn't recognize her.

The third was another woman, raven hair, tall, wearing a leather jacket, a blue t-shirt and jeans. The fourth was younger, still boyish after all these years. Practically Peter Pan.

I smiled as they came up the walk and leveled the shotgun at them. "Move another step and the police are going to be here to cart away this crazy old man for shooting four trespassers."

"Mr. Jacobs, please stay calm," said my "shrink". "We're not here to hurt you."

"Oh, I really don't care why you're here. All I want to see of you people are heels and elbows."

"Mr. Jacobs…do you remember us?" asked Peter Pan.

I smiled. I must've looked like I was as crazy as the Joker. "Oh, I know you people, I know each and every one of you. I've been waiting for you, you see. I knew you people were coming before you did. I don't know what you came here to ask, but you can spare us both the wasted breath and hit the bricks."

"Doug…" began the tall blond, but I pulled the hammers back on the double-barreled ten-gauge.

"I know you, Captain America. I know who you are and what you stood for. I also know that none of you have powers here and I don't see no shield." I looked at him. I looked right at those perfect blue eyes. "How could you? You, of all people, how could you associate with the ones that did this?"

"I had nothing to do with your current state, Doug. If we did, we would've found you long before now. We've been looking for you for two years."

"Only two? I'd be insulted if I cared enough to be."

"You don't understand. It's only been two years for us…this Sphere has been designed with a much faster time stream. For every day that passed for us, a month passed here."

I looked at them. I looked at Captain America. I looked right into his eyes and I saw he wasn't lying, or at least thought he wasn't. "You still represent the Powers-That-Be, Cap, and they have a SHITLOAD to answer for."

"Look, is Felicia here?" Peter Pan/Parker asked. "Could we talk with you both?"

I smiled again. "Sure, Pete. She's in the backyard, waiting. Come on."

I sat down next to my wife and looked up at them. "Well? You wanted to talk to us? You'll forgive Felicia if she doesn't add much to the conversation." I leaned against the headstone that read, "Felicity Jacobs, Beloved Wife". There were no dates on the stone, but then, I didn't need them. "Go ahead and say hello. Hey, Felicia? Our friends are here, even Peter's here."

None of them said anything. Some friends, don't come to visit for years, then when they get here, they don't say anything.

Finally, Peter has the balls to ask. "What happened?"

"Cancer. Seems that the Super-Soldier serum she took has an interesting side effect in this world, Cap. It causes bone cancer. She showed up as positive less than a year after getting here with me. At first, I didn't realize what was going on, I had doctors all over the world try to help her, but they couldn't. The serum was actively hindering treatment. Once I found the compound, I knew what had happened and who she really was. By then, it was too late. Know what was the worst part? It wasn't the treatments that turned her into a shell of a woman. It wasn't spending all day and all night praying for a cure that would never come. It was watching her react as the bone started to flake off into the bloodstream and find their way to her brain. Boy, the things she said then…between ravings and delirium, she kept talking about the Good Old Days, wandering in and out of sleep." I looked over at Peter, whose face looked ashen. "Boy, you and her were doing the nasty just about every night when you two were together, huh?"

"Doug…" the woman in white said.

"SHUT. The FUCK. Up." I pointed right at her. "Don't you say a fucking word, Emma Frost. I don't want to hear it."

"Doug, be reasonable, we didn't have anything to do with this!" the raven-haired woman shouted, then stopped, as if she was suddenly aware of how loud she was.

"You work for those who did. Guilt by association." I knew I was being harsh, but I didn't care. I loved her and the ones who ran the Experience took her away from me.

"Doug…!" Steve said impatiently.

"No! Don't you 'Doug' me! Go back to Stan and the rest of the Sphere dictators and tell them you couldn't find me, to just find the reboot switch or something."

"We can't," Steve said coldly.

"Why not? You so scared of incurring their wrath? Just quit your jobs."

"We can't because there's no contact with them. There have been no authorized exits from the Experience in the past two years."

That stopped me. "You're kidding me. That's impossible! How can the Masters allow extended time in the Experience? Everyone on the Staff knows what happens to Characters that stay in too long."

"All the same, it's true. We barely have any memories of our original selves anymore." Emma took a few steps forward. "Can we go inside?"

"I haven't decided yet. Pisses me off enough you being on the same continent." I sighed heavily. "Go on in…but if you think I'm serving you any whiskey, you're crazier than I took you for."

"Don't you have anything else to drink?" Jessica Drew asked.

"Why would I want to?"

"Is that all you do, stay drunk?" Peter asked idly.

"Beats the alternative. Sobriety brings memories." I poured myself another double shot. "Besides, it's not like I've got some great destiny or anything to look forward to…I was chewed up and spit out by the Powers-That-Be and for my troubles, I was given a terrarium to play around in. If you gave up your life on principle, then was brought back only to be stuck in a cage and have everything that meant anything to you taken away, you'd spend a lot of your time plastered. Look around you. The Sphere was designed for me, and I'm the most important person in it. Nothing bad can happen to me here. Things just naturally go my way. If I lose my job, either another one pops up or I win the lottery."

"And this was bad why?" Jessica asked.

"Because I had nothing to strive for anymore. I did bad at work, they bent over backwards to justify my employment. I quit my job, and these big welfare checks started coming in. Couldn't get arrested, cops always seemed to be somewhere else when I was speeding. It's not painfully obvious, but that's how it is." I felt like crying, but I was all cried out years ago. "And now you're here. Some explanations are in order."

"As near as I can figure it, a short time after you and Felicia came here, someone altered the Sphere to speed up time. In fact, they may have also altered the Sphere's natural laws to make certain you were alone." Emma paused to let that sink in.

"So you're saying that Felicia's death wasn't carelessness, that someone murdered her?" I asked slowly. The implications of that question were not lost on me. If it can be believed, someone conspired to kill her and make me a bitter widower. As much as I wanted to hold on to the theory that the ones that brought me here had betrayed me, hold onto that hatred, the idea that someone set me up that way was making that hatred dissolve.

If I believed all this.

"That's the only explanation that makes any sense." Emma smiled slightly. She could tell her words were winning me over, damn her.

"That brings up the sixty-four million dollar question: why me?" I asked.

"We aren't sure, but the last time you were on the run, you managed to cause people a lot of damage and stop a threat no one else could touch. Whoever's doing this views you as a threat, but for some reason, didn't want you killed. Whether it was because you were the key to something, or fear of what you might do to retaliate, or maybe just because they didn't want to call attention to themselves, it all boils down to you being able to stop them somehow. That's why we're here."

"Yeah, lucky me. Spider-Man, Spider-Woman, Captain America, the White Queen…and the reject from Geriatric Park. In case you haven't noticed, I'm a fossil. If this Sphere hadn't been tailor-made for me, I'd be crippled by now."

"Actually, we have a theory about that." Peter stood up, walking around as he explained. "In the Spheres, there is Real-time and there is Experience-time. Taking into account the same principles that keep active heroes and villains from aging as fast as normal, if you leave this Sphere, you will revert to the age you were at when you entered it. Reed Richards and I worked it out."

"Are you sure?"

Peter didn't answer fast enough for my liking. His answer was also less than satisfactory. "The theory is sound. Keep in mind that what happened to you has never happened before, but the laws do apply."

"So what you're saying is that I could end up an old man regardless."

"Actually…that's not the main problem. Shedding decades of age might not be the most pleasant experience. We have no way of knowing how the shock might affect you." Peter sobered. "It could give you your youth back, but you might not survive the shock."

I searched their faces. As much as it galled me, they might be right. Somebody set me up, and I could either choose to fix things and get a little payback or wait around for old age to kick my ass. Of course, I might die doing it.

I stood up and looked around at my house, then walked outside and looked around at my world. My gilded cage. Death would be preferable, and I had done it before. Maybe it'd be easier the second time around.

"Let's go," I said at last.

"Do you need time to pack anything?" Spider-Woman asked.

"No…there's nothing here I want to take with me. It's all fake anyways." I walked to the car and turned. "Come on, you lugs, while you're young?"

One thing I can certainly say about the process of shedding sixty-plus years of age via Sphere travel: it is definitely not for everyone. As soon as I entered the portal, I felt as if I was in a hailstorm of razor blades. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't find my voice, and it felt like I was being peeled like an onion. Layer after painful layer was stripped away, leaving me feeling naked, not to mention in excruciating pain.

When it was all over, I was lying on the floor, covered in sweat and gooseflesh, feeling like I got into a fistfight with a farm harvester. However, I was alive.

Technically.

Spider-Woman laid me on my back. "Doug? Doug?? Say something!"

"…something…"

Emma crossed her arms with a sigh. "He made it, and it seems he's back to being the same old smartass he was before. I'll have to get back to you on whether that's a good thing or not. Doug, you're at the Avengers' Tower. Can you move anything?"

"…not sure…think I messed myself…" Every word was a fifty-pound weight I was pulling up my throat. "…thirsty…"

"He's going to need some rest, Captain."

"Indeed. Hang in there, Doug, you're going to be okay."

I thought about his words before I passed out. Somehow, being incapacitated while the Spheres were being subverted stretched the definition of "okay" beyond reasonable means. Well, at least that stupid hex on the women of the Spheres making them all want me was definitely gone. I was worried that some residual effects would still be around from when MORRIGAN was screwing about, but it seems that all of that went away when it did.

Good. The LAST thing I wanted to have to deal with was any sort of intimacy issues with anyone. When all this was over, I wanted to give up all this craziness, leave the Experience and never return.

…he was back home. The travel, the visitors, it had all been a bad dream. He was home and he was young again. He walked downstairs, rubbing his eyes as he smelled frying bacon. "Felicia?"

"In the kitchen, honey!"

Doug smiled and walked to the dining room adjacent to the kitchen, sitting down and picking up the fork. "What have we got for breakfast?" He could hear her walking around in heels on the tile floor and Doug smiled. Looked like Felicia was feeling playful.

He turned around to get a good look at her.

Felicia was dressed in her Black Cat bodysuit, but the suit was dirty and threadbare. Too much time in the dark earth. She wasn't looking too well, either: her skin was stretched over her body, opening up visible patches and holes in her body. As she walked to the table, Doug saw her wide smile, what little there was of her ruined lips, and with every step, he heard something snap as a bone gave way. He couldn't move as she put down a plate with sunny-side-up eggs, bacon, a biscuit, and two rotting fingers crawling with maggots.

Felicia looked down at Doug. "Just another beautiful day, lover…and after breakfast, I think you and I should spend the day together…it's time for us to start a family, don't you think…?"

Doug's lungs finally started to work and he screamed and he screamed as Felicia bent down to kiss him…

I woke up, the scream still on my lips as I jerked awake, nearly falling off the bed. My sheets were damp and I was tangled up in them, but I managed not to crack my head open. As I pulled myself up, someone came in. "Are you all right, young man?"

I looked up and stared. "May Parker??"

The old woman smiled. "Do we know each other, young man?"

"Uh…only by reputation."

"Oh, dear me…how could I have a reputation?"

Think fast, wabbit "Well, if I may say so, you're kind of famous for your oatmeal cookies." I did my best to smile.

She smiled back, apparently relieved. "Why, thank you. I don't believe I know your name."

"Doug. Doug Jacobs."

"I hope you're feeling better. Bad dream?" She sat down on a nearby chair.

"Sort of…bad memories."

"I know how you feel, young man. I had the worst dreams after my Ben passed away. I understand you lost someone close to you as well."

"Yeah…a long time ago." I sighed. "Where is everyone?"

"Oh, they're dealing with something in a conference. Seems rather serious."

"They always are." I looked around. "Uhm…might I have a little privacy? I need to get cleaned up and dressed. I must look like a mess."

May smiled. Why didn't I have a grandmother like her? Come to think of it…I don't remember a lot about my parents. I know it's been sixty years or so, but I should still remember them. I don't…and I don't remember ever thinking about it before. I don't even remember wanting to think about it.

I felt a cold chill up my spine and my head swam a bit. I looked up at May and smiled. "Sorry, but I need to get cleaned up and dressed. I must look like a mess."

May laughed. "My, my, Doug, are you always in the habit of repeating yourself?"

"Excuse me?"

"You said that once already. Your exact words."

I blinked. "I did?" I didn't…at least, I don't think I did. "I must be tired."

May stood up. "Change of clothes are in the dresser, Doug. I hope you'll find that they fit." She left, chuckling at some joke I didn't know about. I watched her go and wondered.

What was going on? May might have been old, but she was by no means senile. If she said I had repeated myself, I couldn't imagine that she'd lie about it. She was telling the truth and that meant…I don't know what it meant, but it meant something.

Getting dressed felt better. Superpowers enabling the imbued with resistance to extremes of temperature doesn't hold a candle to jeans and a T-shirt. Thus armored against public embarassment, I decided to do a little exploring.

My room was nice and cozy enough, but the hallways looked more like what I expected the Avengers' base to use: steel halls, ceiling and floors. Well, they added some carpeting. Kinda nice.

Then I found the door at the end of the hallway and opened it...and what I heard brought all the nice in a three thousand mile radius to a halt.

"Today, the Superhuman Registration Act was passed today in response to the events known commonly as the 'House of M' incidents. From this day on, at noon, all known individuals possessing superhuman abilities must report to the authorities in order to have their abilities and powers documented and licensed for use, or face criminal penalties." The reporter on the TV screen disappeared, showing pictures of both heroes and criminals in a montage of combat photographs. "This measure comes after decades of clashes between criminals and so-called 'heroes', resulting in the loss of countless lives, not to mention billions of dollars in property damage..."

The TV shut off and a figure rose from one of the sofas, an attractive redhead wearing a black sleeveless tank top and jeans. With that hair, there was only one other person it could be. "Mary Jane Watson-Parker, I presume?"

She turned, an expression of profound disgust on her face. As soon as she saw me, she blinked. "Who are you?" she inquired, her anger changing to curiosity by degrees.

"I'm Doug...I just got here."

"Oh...new recruit?"

"God, I hope not." I found the nearby kitchen and looked inside. Sure enough, there were two cases of beer and a bottle each of scotch, bourbon and Southern Comfort. "I've got enough troubles. I guess you could call me a trouble consultant."

Mary Jane laughed. "My husband would probably consider that redundant. The Avengers don't need consultants for that."

"Tell me about it. I used to have a lot of difficulty..." I stopped. Technically, I was a Writer, albeit an unemployed one. I didn't have all the neat powers, but I still had information, and there were rules against spilling the beans to background characters. Not that I was concerned about getting fired...there were more dire consequences involved. "...uh, working with insurance companies for damages after supervillain attacks."

"Oh." I didn't hear her voice for a few minutes while I decided what I wanted to drink. After figuring the SoCo for the best brain-cell murder weapon, I stood up and turned.

She was right in front of me and I stopped. I had two thoughts at that point: first, DO NOT DROP THE BOTTLE. The second was realizing what Peter Parker saw in her. I backed up. "Sorry."

"My fault, Doug, I..." She looked down at the bottle. "You're having a drink? Are you allowed to do that on duty?"

"Lady, I just found out that the government has just enacted the most damaging law in the country and made heroes into outlaws if they decide not to give up their secret identities to an organization that couldn't find Osama bin Laden or the WMDs, let alone their own rumps with both hands, a map and a GPS device. As the news dawned, I decided it might be the best time to start drinking. Heavily." I sat down. "It's been a REALLY rough day."

Mary Jane watched me for a few seconds as I sat down at the counter, then pulled up a chair. "Scoot over. Bartender, I'll have whatever he's having."

"Brave lady, drinking with a stranger." I poured her a shot.

"I dunno. You don't feel like a stranger. In fact, I could swear I know you from somewhere."

I tried not to panic. I did meet an actress who was supposed to play the part of Mary Jane, years and years ago...at least for me. If what the others were saying was true, she's been in the Experience too long. Her old personality must be almost gone, as well as her memory, but some parts must be left. "I must have one of those faces. I worked as a photographer for a modeling agency, and I've seen you around."

"That must be it. Sorry, after moving here, I guess I've gotten a little more paranoid." She took a drink and grimaced. "I don't know how Wolverine can drink this stuff like a fish and stay sober...or sane."

"From what I hear, his healing factor handles the sobriety. Jury's still out on the rest."

"Hey!"

Uh-oh. I turned around to see Wolverine glaring at us. I figured Mary Jane was safe, but I was a newcomer here. "Uh...hi."

"I gotta bone to pick, bub. Come with me. I don't want to have to rough you up in front of the lady."

"Look, I don't know what the deal is, but..."

"Red, do me a favor and give the boys some privacy."

"Not a chance." Mary Jane stood between us. "Until you promise me that you're not going to cause any trouble for him OR harm him, you can just shove off." One thing you could say Wolverine and Mary Jane had in common: both had spines of adamantium.

Logan looked at her, then rolled his eyes and sighed. "FINE. But this is personal."

Mary Jane nodded. "Good luck, Doug." She walked out of the room, leaving me alone with Logan.

I did my best to remain calm, considering I was alone in the room with someone who could do more damage to me in a few seconds than an industrial strength wood-chipper running on jet fuel. "Now, look, I don't know...!"

Then Logan caught me completely by surprise. I felt a strong pain in my ribs, felt and if I was going to pop in half. I grunted in pain as I looked down. "GEEZ, Logan...put me down already!"

"Damn, Doug, where the hell you been?" Logan set me down, a wide smile on his face. "I haven't seen you since that time I came to you to talk about Jubilee. Everyone and their mothers have been looking for you. You still a Writer?"

I sighed, rubbing my sides. "That was a lifetime ago...in more ways than one."

"What have you been told about what's happening?"

"Cap and some of the others filled me in on the basics."

"They tell you about HYDRA?"

"No...wait, HYDRA's BACK?"

"With a vengeance. Seems they're consolidating their resources, preparing for something big. It would have to be big, for them to come out of retirement."

"Any ideas?"

"No clue...but whatever it is, they've been working on it for months." Logan sighed. "And it's getting harder and harder to hold on to memories of the life outside the Experience. A lot of people are pretty far gone, and some of the others can never go back Outside."

"And now this stuff happens...this Registration Act."

"Think it's a coincidence?" Logan asked, popping open a beer.

"Yeah...and I'm Charlemagne. What are the reactions of the Avengers on this?"

Logan growled softly. "So far, divided. Tony's got too much invested NOT to comply. Cap thinks the Act is a bad idea, and I'm with him on that. So are Luke, Pete and Jessica. I have a bad feeling some of these people are going to become outlaws because of this."

"Which is just what the Bad Guys want: half the Avengers on the run and the other half sent to chase them." I stood up. "I've got to get out of here."

"What? You just got here!"

"Yeah, and it's only going to be a short time before this base becomes the focus of the worst kind of civil war. There's going to be too many eyes and I need to have a low profile until I can figure out what's going on."

"Well, you can't just go out there on your own."

"What do you suggest?" I demanded.

"Have someone go with you."

"For-GET it. I am not taking some sort of chaperone along. Besides, I'm a walking bullseye. I don't even know how much trouble I'm in, and I'm not going to ask someone to share in my misfortune."

"What if she volunteers?"

Both Logan and I turned to the door to see Jessica Drew standing there, out of uniform, but I knew that voice anywhere. "UH-uh. No way."

"Doug, stop it. This 'lone wolf' routine isn't going to work. You've been out of the loop for too long and you know it. You need someone who knows what's going on," Jessica said, taking a few steps closer.

"Jess, dear, unless you haven't been keeping up on current events, someone wants me so dead, they're going to need to bury me twice!" This was insane. I couldn't believe I was hearing this! "And they want me dead for real."

"Tough. You should know better than to try and convince an Avenger to back off from a threat, Doug. Besides, you need help. Admit it to yourself, if not to us."

I looked at Jessica for a LONG time. Finally, I was forced to admit that she did have a point. "If I find out you used your pheremones on me...!" I warned.

"If I did, Doug, you'd know it. You have a plan?"

"Right now? What, I have to think of everything?"

Jessica looked at me carefully. "Any chance I could retract my offer for help?"

"Go right ahead," I countered.

She shook her head. "Too easy. All right, Hannibal Smith. What do you need to do first?"

That was easy. "Get some answers about this whole mess."

Logan put down his beer. "You know, you might want to check with SHIELD or the X-Men. They might have a heads-up if anyone does, considering the House of M problems."

Made sense. If nothing else, Xavier could come up with some answers, even if they weren't in his own head. "All right. I'll go with that. Do me a favor and tell the others I couldn't stay, and that I'm sorry?"

"Will do," Logan assented.

As Jessica went to pack, I looked over at Wolverine and it suddenly occurred to me that I might not see him again, whether by circumstance or... I shook that thought off. Wolverine could survive just about anything. You could probably drop a nuke on him and it'd probably only slow him down.

And yet, I didn't want to go. We talked over a few things, re-hashed what had happened to him while I'd been away (a clone of him, and female, nonetheless...going to be interesting meeting the new X-Men), and all the time, I couldn't shake the feeling this'd be the last time I'd talk to him.

Jessica came back, carrying a duffel bag. "Ready when you are."

I nodded. I couldn't put it off any longer. "See you around, Logan."

"Right back atcha."

Jessica and I walked out. I didn't look back.

I couldn't.

One of the things I really hated about covert ops was that you could never find a good place to order out from. Maybe it's another one of the laws of the Spheres, but good luck finding a place to get deep-dish pizza when you're on the run. It's like when someone on the lam comes by, a red light goes on and a klaxon goes off and the pizza place suddenly turns into a florist's shop.

Jessica was handling things better than I was.

We walked down into the subway and mingled with the crowd. It was cold and damp, typical for a Manhattan November, and I wondered dimly if it was before or after Thanksgiving. Problem was, the next immediate thought that came after was, What do I possibly have to be thankful for?

"Doug?"

"Yeah?" I looked up and saw Jessica looking at me.

"Train's over there."

I turned to see that I had been straying away from the train platform instead of towards it. I nodded and moved towards the door as Jessica moved to my left. "Sorry."

Neither of us spoke as we stood there, surrounded by concrete, advertising and tile. Jessica spoke first. "I know what you've been through, but so help me, if you don't get it together quick, I am going to hit you on the head and drop you in a dumpster somewhere," she whispered out of the side of her mouth.

"Geez, Jess, there's no need to remind me you're from New York, I get the idea."

A train whistled from down the tunnel and I looked to my right, as if expecting yet another threat to come from down the tunnel. It had been a long time since I'd been in a big city, at least by my reckoning. As the years passed, I moved further and further away from people until I became the Old Guy everyone makes jokes about. I even found myself yelling at kids to stay off my property at one point.

The train stopped and we boarded, and I moved towards the back, trying to find someplace reasonably secluded so I could keep an eye on the rest of the passengers. I wasn't feeling too trusting at the moment, especially after hearing that Felicia's death might not have been out of carelessness after all.

Someone had engineered her death, and not a quick or painless one.

Someone made her suffer.

The idea of someone at HYDRA actually trying to take control of what went on Behind The Scenes was crazy. That was like the Wizard Of Oz calling the production to a halt and telling everyone that the Emerald City was expanding its borders to encompass all of Hollywood. And it wouldn't stop there. To keep the other Spheres from retaliating in a very bloody but short war, HYDRA would have to either keep this a very quiet coup for this Sphere alone…or take over the other Spheres as well.

And that meant infiltration on a grand scale. That would mean somehow convincing Writers in every Sphere to betray their superiors and give up their oaths. I didn't think there were many Writers out there who would easily be seduced into being an agent of HYDRA, until I remembered that HYDRA would likely threaten ruin, death or worse to get them to fall in line. HYDRA themselves couldn't hurt the Writers…but sympathizers outside the Experience could cause plenty of fear and mayhem.

And all it would take is the promise of power. It had to stop here. The Marvel Sphere was their base of operations. In this case, cutting the head off would not cause two more heads to grow in its place.

I just needed to find the right head. Oh, and without getting myself killed. That was a fundamental part of the plan.

"Jess, how much do you know about HYDRA's movements?"

"Not much…until some of their cash cows started turning up dead and their assets turned up missing, we all thought HYDRA had been extinct. Turns out they'd gone deep underground, spending all their resources towards gathering more resources. Then, all of their money gatherers and launderers died the same night. All their accounts were drained, their properties signed over to other companies and then sold. Billions of dollars, gone…happened right after you took your vacation."

"Hope that's not a jab at me, lady. I literally died, or came damn close...!"

"Easy, Doug. Nobody's saying you had a choice in the matter."

"Damn skippy."

"The point is, Doug, HYDRA's re-emergence is not likely to be a coincidence."

"I got that already. The question is, why me?"

"For that, we're going to have to take a look at your file. Your Company File."

Good thing I was sitting down. Every Writer had a File on them back where their offices were located. The File hardcopies were under lock and key, to put it mildly. Only the Section Supervisors were allowed to even look at the files, and they did more than look. No one knew for sure exactly what went into those files. Disciplinary documents, probably. Except…I've never seen mine. I don't remember it at all.

I closed my eyes, concentrating. It's been a while, years and years, since I first started working there as a Writer. Especially by my Experience, so to speak. I couldn't remember ever seeing my own File. Come to think of it…I don't recall when I started work as a Writer. It was as if…well, crazy as it sounds, as if I'd always been a Writer there. "Jess, I think that coming back here has seriously screwed up my cerebral chemistry. My memory past certain events as a Writer are gone. Completely."

Jessica considered. "Moving in and out of the Experience does tend towards memory flaws and hiccups of time spent inside. And you'd been in a Sphere that was not only one hundred percent Experience, but with a time dilation factor applied to it and the Aging Retardation Effect suspended. That's why you were an old man by the time we got to you."

I blinked. "Aging Retardation Effect?"

"From what a Writer told me once Outside, it's a common, unwritten rule in the Experience: featured Characters age at a fraction of the pace most other people do. Consider how long Peter Parker was in high school and college. His attendance there was longer than most professors' tenure. But since he was a featured Character, the laws of causality were stretched to allow the rest of the world to accept it. Same thing with Captain America, the Fantastic Four, even me. Well, I did have a little help. According to the records, I'm the fourteenth Jessica Drew." She smiled. "My Agent got me in."

"And how's that been working out for you?"

Her smile lost some of its energy, but she shrugged. "Ups and downs."

"Considering what's been going on, I'd call this a pretty serious 'down', wouldn't you?"

"Stop's coming up."

"Good…because we've got company."

Jessica looked around. "I don't see anyone."

"Not in the train. On it."

Jessica looked up. "How did you?"

"The smell. Considering the speed of the train, he's three cars ahead. Sniff."

She sniffed the air. "Smells like the usual…urine, unwashed masses, something that smells like oil…"

"The cars are electric…so why is the oil smell so strong?"

"What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking we better get off this train."

Jessica nodded. We both headed to the rear of the train. As we moved back, Jessica turned to me. "I can hear it now. It sounds like it is slithering or sliding across the roof."

"Nothing wrong with your super-hearing." We stopped at the rear and Jessica burned the lock off the door with one of her venom-blasts. "How fast is it moving?"

"Very fast. Catch-us-in-two-minutes fast. Hang on to me, I'll fly us out of here." Something about my expression must've hinted that I didn't like the idea of being carried, because she looked disgustedly at me and added, "I'll apologize to your bruised ego later. Now stop being a baby and hang on to my neck."

I nodded and hung on. Not wanting to hang on out of some sense of a blow to my masculinity felt better than telling her I hadn't gotten that close to a woman in decades and wasn't eager to now.

She took off, carrying me easily and I felt something move past my feet. I couldn't hear much over the sound of the subway car, but when I looked back, I couldn't see any sign of a threat. "I get the feeling we just dodged a bullet, but I'll be damned if I can see anything."

"Right now, Doug, it's better to be paranoid." She landed at the door to an access hallway and burned the lock off. "Know where to go from here?"

"Yeah, we need to find an Access. But first, we need to find a map. Let's hope there's a maintenance office nearby. They'll have maps of the underground tunnels."

It took a while to find an office. The door from the subway tunnel was further away than expected and we had to move through three utility chambers with emergency shutoff valves and automated regulators that looked a little newer than you'd think would be appropriate for a sewer. Of course, with supergroups able to go into space every other week, the rest of the world had to keep up somehow. I somehow suspected that things weren't so well-ordered outside the Experience, but I had no desire to find out personally. I didn't have the shoes for it.

I went to work on the desk while Jessica checked out the file cabinets. Fortunately, the computer wasn't password-protected. "Got it. There's an Access located…here, and we are…" I stopped as I realized what the office's location was. "…hosed."

"What's wrong?" I heard her coming up behind me.

"Oh, nothing. The Access is conveniently located eight miles away…"

"So what are you getting worked up over?"

"…directly underneath the Baxter Building."

"…oh."

"Yeah, 'oh'. So unless something happens and the Fantastic Four decide to pull chocks and leave to take care of it, we are NOT getting in there."

"Where's the nearest Access other than there?"

"Some place is Westchester. Three guesses where that is, first two don't count. Someone has been shutting down Accesses in low-security areas." I began checking out other locations, then sighed. "Only one active Access in the area, the others are on standby status, which means they won't open until someone Outside activates them."

"So we're out of luck. That's just perfect!" Jessica threw up her hands. "Now what?"

"I don't know. But we can't stay here waiting to find out. We've got to get out of the city, but we've got to go somewhere safe. Someplace I know they won't be looking for us."

"Why do I have the feeling we're going to a place where one of our daily duties might be getting firewood to cook our meals?"

"Well, if you don't like that, I hear HYDRA uses microwaves to prepare meals for their prisoners."

"You can be a real pain, you know that?"

"It could be worse. I could have super-powers." I printed out a map of my chosen destination. "But first, we've got to make a couple of stops."

"All right. Where to?"

"First stop…the bank. Need some walking-around money. Second, we're going to need a car."

"Don't you think renting a car is going to raise some flags? It's either that or steal one."

"Trust me. This will be easy."

Silence. I turned to look at Jessica. The expression on her face was unpleasantly skeptical. "I can't even begin to decide which part of what you just said scares me more."

"I know what I'm doing." I walked to the door and unlocked it.

Jessica followed behind, but I could hear her muttering, "That sentence scares me more than the previous two..."

Smartass.

"This is your 'bank'?"

I could understand why she was nonplussed. The building we'd gone to was a collection of seedy apartments located right over an even seedier-looking strip club called THE BAD KITTY-KAT KLUB. "Well, the best part is, they're open twenty-four seven. Come on."

"If this is some twisted idea of a date…!"

"Just play along. After all, we just have to at least look like we're getting a room for an hour. We go inside, pick up some clothes for you…"

"Not a chance. No way. I am not appearing in public dressed like some cheap prostitute." She pulled me into an alley. "It is NOT going to happen!" she hissed.

"Come on, Jess, this is important. You can take the clothes off as soon as we get inside the room…" I knew that was the wrong thing to say as soon as I said it. "You can CHANGE when we get to the room…"

"No. You're going to have to prove to me that this is really on the up and up, Doug, that we're doing this for a good reason."

"And how do you expect me to do that?"

Jessica smiled. I suddenly hated that smile.

"You have to admit, Doug, it worked."

I glared at her as I walked into the room, dressed in black leather pants, a set of black leather straps over my chest and around my arms, a thick leather collar and a hood with zipper-closures for the mouth and eyes. Jessica had led me in, literally, chain-link leash in hand, my regular clothes in a shopper's bag in her other hand. I removed the straps on my arms with some difficulty and opened the zippers over my eyes. "You let me bump into those people on purpose."

"Don't be ridiculous. Is it my fault you can't walk straight?"

"And the whole, 'move it slave, or you'll get the whip'??"

"Just playing along, Doug. That was the point of this exercise, wasn't it?"

I ignored her smug expression and grabbed the bag with my clothes angrily. "You don't have issues, Jess, you've got subscriptions." I went into the bathroom and got out of the leather quickly. After putting my regular clothes on, I went to the hiding place I'd set up.

Years ago, while I was dealing with MORRIGAN Control, I set up some emergency caches while dealing with worst-case scenarios. One of them was dealing with staying flush in case I needed to move across town in a hurry and needed cash. So I set up some pre-paid credit cards, the kind you buy and then dump money on to use later, and hid them in places where it would be unlikely that they'd be found. The one in this apartment was one of them. The trick, of course, is to hide them where it would be unlikely that someone would find them while performing repairs.

I went into the bathtub and grasped the metal soap-dish built into the wall. It took a little elbow grease, but I slid it out and looked under it, showing a plastic bag around cards that had been taped together. An ID card, a credit card…and a paper-thin layer of flammable material, just in case someone found it and tried to drain my emergency funds. Separate the cards without running water over them first, and the cards would be rendered useless.

Of course, if the paper bag had been worked open and water had leaked in, and my clever idea would've been a lost cause. Hey, they can't all be gems. And in this case, it had worked. Rule #8 in Hostile Situations: if it's stupid and works, it isn't stupid.

I came out of the bathroom, seeing Jessica sitting on the bed looking at me funny. "What is it?" I inquired.

"Well, I heard all that grunting and moving around, and I thought you were getting some use out of your new clothes, so I thought I'd give you some privacy…" She tried to keep her face casual, but I saw the edges of the mouth twitching as she tried not to laugh.

"OH HA HA HA HA. I am peeing myself, you are so hilarious…" I growled. "Are you finished yet, or are you going to embarrass me a little more?"

"Well, I was thinking of embarrassing you a little more, but I'd rather wait until after you told me why we're here." She was smiling. Goddamn her.

I held up the cards. "I hid these here back when I was dealing with MORRIGAN. One of them is a credit card with a few hundred thousand dollars dumped on it. The other is a coded ID card that'll get us to where our ride is."

"So…where are we going? Latveria? The mountains? Deep at some forest cabin? Death Valley?" she asked, apparently resigning herself to her uncertain fate.

Just for putting me through the past two hours, I considered torturing her at least a little. But I decided against it. "I was thinking more along the lines of…Martinique."

Her head snapped up so fast, I thought she'd get whiplash. "The Bahamas???"

"Yep. So let's go get our ride. You can buy a swimsuit after we get there."

It watched them from its hiding place in the murk of the storm drain. It knew enough about where it was to know that it did not wish to be found. It also knew that what it sought was one it had contact with before, but kept moving away from it.

It had to be hunted.

The one it sought left the structure nearby. It was growing weaker. It pulled together that what made it what it was, concentrating it and throwing it at the one it needed to survive.

The essence flew through the air and landed on the clothing of its quarry. It shifted its coloration to make itself harder to notice. It needed time to recover its strength and its ability to grow.

And when that was done…it would bond with its new host.

TO BE CONTINUED…