Miguel O’Hara’s executive suite, Alchemax Plaza. Evening, February 2100.
Watch This Space.
“As you can see from this live footage,” an announcer’s voice declared as he narrated a feed on the Public Eye Network, “there is a crisis in Alchemax Plaza’s hospital wing. The costumed anarchist known only as the Goblin has been facing off against another costumed outlaw, Spider-Man, for the past several minutes.”
The holographic assistant known as Lyla stood with her two guests in Miguel O’Hara’s suit as they watched the news report. Though the hologram was only an aspect of the Lyla program – it was integrated into the entire suite – worry and fear still spread across her goldenrod light-mapped features. She had been custom-made with the image and personality of the twentieth century actress Marilyn Monroe, but emotions were not supposed to be part of her programming.
She experienced emotions anyway.
Emotions had been introduced into her programming by a coding glitch brought on by a hacker called Discord. Before that, she could only simulate the range emotions Monroe had exhibited, but once the glitch was in her system, he could genuinely experience such concepts as fear, jealousy, rage, happiness, and even infatuation. And once that glitch was recognized, it was expunged from her system and Lyla was reprogrammed from scratch so it couldn’t happen again.
Except lately, she was starting to think it was. She often found herself overwhelmed by data she recognized as similar to what she experienced during Discord’s tampering. So far, she’d been able to pass it off as merely simulating those emotions, and Miguel had yet to catch on. So far…
A gunshot rang out, causing the hologram to flinch.
“Oh, now it seems there’s a new development,” the commentator went on as the shaky video from the Public Eye cameras displayed the scene. “One of the Alchemax employees on the scene has attempted to intervene in the situation, and has shot Spider-Man.”
Prismatic tears welled in Lyla’s eyes.
One camera zoomed in on Spider-Man, who was now sprawled on the floor, clutching his chest, as the commentator went on. “There is no indication yet of whether the gunshot wound is life-threatening, but as regular Public Eye viewers may know, this is believed to be the same Spider-Man who had been gunned down by an entire squad of Public Eye officers last year, fallen into Downtown, and emerged with only minor injuries a short time later.”
Lyla’s chest swelled with relief.
The point-of-view switched to another camera, this one focused on Conchata’s face, slack-jawed in disbelief. “We’ve identified the shooter as one Conchata O’Hara, personal secretary to Alchemax CEO Miguel O’Hara. Whether her action was accidental or truly intended for Spider-Man cannot be determined that this time.”
Lyla glanced to one side as John Tensen, the wanderer known as the Net Prophet, placed a comforting hand on the shoulder of Father Jennifer D’Angelo as the two watched the unfolding events. Jennifer leaned against his hand for warmth and support, and Lyla found herself wishing someone – preferably Miguel – would lay a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“For those just tuning in, an altercation between the Goblin and Spider-Man has resulted in the latter being shot by an Alchemax employee. It began earlier this evening when the Goblin engaged a squad of our own Public Eye police officers, goading them into a midair dogfight. He was able to gain entrance into the hallway of the hospital wing, which had only recently been opened under the auspices of Alchemax CEO Miguel O’Hara. From there he had entered into a violent confrontation with Public Eye security and Spider-Man, whom witnesses report had apparently ‘showed up out of nowhere’.”
The announcer went on to explain how Spider-Man’s appearance was further proof that Miguel had hired Spider-Man to act as his personal security, but by then Lyla had stopped caring about the details and speculation. She just allowed the flow of data to be funneled into a file to be viewed later when she could experience it more … optimistically. Right now, she was experiencing far too much. As her true self was housed within the suite and was responsible for its automated systems, she could feel, see, hear, and even smell everything that was happening within it. That included the newsfeeds that were being uploaded into it. In fact, she was sure she could actually taste it all.
The hologram vanished, retreating back into the Lyla mainframe. Several minutes passed before Tensen or Father Jennifer even noticed. “Where’s Lyla?” Jennifer asked, looking around.
Tensen shrugged. “I guess the help just disappeared.”
Alchemax Hospital Wing, Alchemax Plaza.
Crossfire.
“So hard to find good help these days,” the Goblin commented, picking up Spider-Man by the throat with one hand and squeezing.
A squad of six Public Eye police officers hovered outside the building on hovercycles. They’d chased the winged Goblin around Alchemax plaza, and one overzealous officer opened fire, inadvertently perforating the windows and allowing the Goblin entry into the hospital wing. “Attention, Goblin,” one of them announced on his flybike’s loudspeaker. “Our bullets are now on the lethal setting. Surrender now, or we will fire upon you.”
The Goblin continued to hold Spider-Man by the throat, using him as a human shield between himself and the Public Eye. “Go ahead, but it’s bad enough you shot up a hospital. Now you’ll risk gunning down your corporate savior.”
Spider-Man was actually pretty sure they’d jump at the chance to kill both the Goblin and himself, but he wasn’t in a position to argue the point. Nor was he physically able to say much: the Goblin’s hand was clenched around his throat, and while the unstable molecular fabric of his Spider-Man costume prevented him from being perforated by the bullet from his mother’s gun, the impact had forced most of the wind from his lungs.
Still, the Public Eye hovered in place several yards outside the shattered window where the Goblin had gained entrance. They seemed respectful of the order Miguel had given months ago to leave Spider-Man alone.
Seizing the opportunity, Spider-Man reached out with one arm, squeezing his organic spinnerets with his forearm muscles to fire a webline at the underside of one of the flybikes. He tugged as hard as he could, and the flybike veered off course. The rider swore and pulled away from the building as Spider-Man dug his finger-talons into the Goblin’s arm and held on.
The flybike ended up pulling both the Goblin and Spider-Man out of the building, and they swung on the webline through the night air between New York’s skyscrapers. Finally, Spider-Man let go of the webline but not the Goblin, despite the latter’s howls of protest.
Spider-Man finally let go, and the two of them dropped onto a hovering, multi-faceted billboard platform. The Goblin landed much less gracefully than Spider-Man, who clinged to an ad for Roxxon Toast. The Goblin bent a wing upon landing and had to grab onto the platform’s framework in order to keep from falling off.
“What’s the matter, Goblin?” Spider-Man taunted as he crawled gracefully toward his enemy, clinging to the billboard despite the harsh crosswinds whipping at them. “Can’t cheat gravity with a bum wing?” He proceeded to cover the Goblin in a dense layer of webbing that confined the villain to the framework. The Goblin’s superhuman strength, while comparable to Spider-Man’s, was rendered useless without the proper freedom of movement.
After roughly a minute of struggling, the Goblin appeared to give up, and he grinned up at Spider-man. “It seems you’ve got me,” he declared. “Go ahead. Finish me off. Kill me. End me before I can cause any more pain or disgrace to you or your loved ones.”
Spider-Man cracked his knuckles. “I’m tempted.”
“But you won’t,” the Goblin asserted. The creepy modulated voice gave way to feminine tones he recognized as belonging to Dana D’Angelo, his former fiancee. “You won’t kill me, because deep down you know it’s really me. The woman you were going to marry.”
“No. This is all just an elaborate deception.”
The Public Eye officers swarmed the billboard platform on their flybikes, training spotlights and public-feed cameras on the two of them. “Oh look, our audience has arrived,” the Goblin commented with glee.
Abruptly, all the video billboard screens displayed the Public Eye feed of the scene, complete with audio. “Good evening, New York,” the Goblin announced, his face grinning on every screen available to the Public Eye. “Some of you –especially those of you who have slummed in Downtown in the past few months – may have heard of me. I am the Goblin, hero of the downtrodden, on a crusade to expose Spider-Man for the fraud he is.” The features of the Goblin’s face began to slacken and flatten as the purple mask split apart to reveal the face beneath. “For I am—“
Acting quickly, Spider-Man jumped in front of his adversary, using his talons to shred the webbing that held the Goblin to the hovering billboard platform. He leaped from the platform, carrying the Goblin over his shoulder.
Diving between buildings amd the gaps in the city’s superstructural framework, Spider-Man and his cargo arrived in Downtown, and the Goblin was unceremoniously dumped onto an ancient rooftop. Spent from too much exertion and too few lungfuls of air, Spider-Man sank to his knees, rolling his mask up to his nose to breathe as deeply as he could.
“How the mighty have fallen, the Goblin taunted as he stood up and approached his foe. “If only all of Downtown could see their once-proud hero like this. Exhausted. Weak. Kneeling. Defeated. And see you they shall, once I dump your lifeless carcass onto the street below. Maybe the Vulture would have a feast, hmmm?”
Spider-Man rolled his mask down to cover his face. “Sounds like you can’t decide what do do with me,” he observed, “kill me or just beat me.”
“I can’t have both?”
Preparing to deliver an uppercut that would have shattered concrete, Spider-Man looked up at his foe. The Goblin was still maskless, but the face was different. Last time it was the face of his slain fiancee, Dana D’Angelo. Now it was the face of his brother, Gabriel O’Hara.
That just enraged Miguel.
“Who’s next, huh?” Spider-Man shouted as he belted the Goblin across his unmasked face. “Who else are you gonna pretend to be? Lyla? My mother?” He kept throwing punches. “How about Xina or Father D’Angelo?”
He grabbed the Goblin by the neck and hoisted him in the air the way the Goblin had done to him minutes earlier. “C’mon! Come on! Show me another face! Show me!”
But the Goblin simply stayed silent. His battered face was still that of Gabriel. He stared at Spider-Man, his expression somewhere between disbelief and recognition. ”…Miguel…?”
Spider-Man dropped the Goblin and backed away, trying to bring his breathing, heart rate, and temper under control. “You’d better not be my brother,” he warned through clenched teeth. “Because I promise: no matter who you are, if you come near me or anyone close to me … I will kill you.”
Jumping off the rooftop, he fired a webline further up the surrounding framework and swung upward. Catching a strong updraft, Spider-Man let go of the line and spread out his webbed airfoil cape to ride the current back to the skyscrapers of Uptown.
Along the way, he swore under his breath in frustration over what had just transpired. Can’t believe how close I came to killing him, he thought. Maybe I should have; at least then he’d stop baiting me with the faces of everyone I know.
As he traveled toward his penthouse suite atop Alchemax Plaza, he continued arguing with himself. Did I do the right thing by sparing him? All he’d do is come after Xina again. Really, the only reason I didn’t kill him was that he was wearing my brother’s face. And that led to an even more disturbing thought: What if it is Gabriel?
Miguel O’Hara’s executive suite, Alchemax Plaza. Later.
Home is Where the Emotional Malfunction Is.
Miguel’s troubling train of thought continued even after he’d returned home. As he changed into a spare set of clothes so he could check on Xina at the others, the dark bedroom was illuminated by the sudden flash of golden light … that tried to hug him.
“Miguel!” Lyla exclaimed, wrapping her arms around him even though she was intangible. “I’m so glad you’re home! I saw you fighting the Goblin and getting shot and fighting the Goblin some more and I feared the worst—“
“Lyla,” Miguel spoke, trying to get her attention as she rambled. He had to repeat her name a few more times before she finally stopped. “Wanna keep it down? I don’t want Tensen and Father Jennifer hearing you.”
“They both left,” Lyla replied briskly, seeming to compose herself for a moment. She made a show of smoothing the wrinkles on the gown of her holographic avatar. Then she launched back into another emotional display that involved a faux-hug and, “don’t you ever scare me like that again!”
“What do you mean they left?” Miguel asked, perplexed. “And what’s with the theatrics? Are you showing off another personality program, or is this another glitch?” The last thing he needed was another emotional breakdown like the one she’d had last year when the cyberspace anarchist Discord hacked the entire city.
Lyla’s posture stiffened, and she stepped back from him, smoothing her gown’s wrinkles once again. “No. Nothing’s wrong. I am functioning within normal parameters.” Her voice had taken on an icy monotone. “And to answer your question, John Tensen and Father Jennifer D’Angelo left shortly after you and the Goblin left through the hospital wing’s window. While Tensen’s current whereabouts are unknown, Father D’Angelo is located in Xina Kwan’s hospital room.”
“Well, that’s good,” Miguel replied as he resumed getting dressed. “At least Xina’s having some company while she recuperates.” Straightening the collar of his long-sleeved button-up shirt, he tilted his head to the side in thought. “Then again, the Public Eyeballs probably cordoned off the hospital wing in response to the Goblin’s visit.”
“They have in fact.”
“So why’s Father Jennifer in…?” He shook his head quickly. “Never mind. I’m gonna go check on ‘em, and hopefully get back the clothes I left in there earlier.”
“Yes. Go check on them,” Lyla answered blandly, walking away from him.
Miguel furrowed his brow, scratching his head. “What was that about…?”
Xina Kwan’s hospital room, Alchemax Plaza. Soon.
Revelations.
It took about five minutes for Miguel to arrive at the hospital wing. It took much longer to get through Public Eye security, who had indeed blocked off the hospital to the public and Alchemax employees. He had an unreasonably difficult time getting through the security checkpoint. “I’m the shocking CEO, you morons!” he finally exclaimed. “Let me go, or start collecting unemployment.”
That finally did it, and Miguel was let into the hallway that had been a battleground less than an hour earlier. “Okay, here’s what I don’t get,” he told Father Jennifer without preamble as he strode into Xina’s room, seeing the Catholic priest sitting on the edge of the patient’s bed. “I get bottlenecked by security, and I’m the CEO of this company. But let me guess: you got in here without any problem at all.”
“Priesthood has its benefits, I suppose,” Father Jennifer commented without turning to face him. She simply smoothed a lock of hair away from Xina’s face.-
“Remind me to apply for the position of Pope, then.”
“That would require both sincerity and faith.” Her words held a subtle edge that made Miguel’s eyebrow raise.
“Okay, so I’m not exactly an altar boy.”
“You seem to be many things to many people,” she commented as she continued to watch Xina’s sleeping form. “I suppose that’s to be expected of a CEO and of a public figure.”
Miguel wasn’t sure where this conversation was going. “So, how’s Xina?”
“Still stable. She’ll make a full recovery. Medical care here is much better than in Downtown.”
“Well, that place is a mess.” He instantly realized it was the wrong thing to say.
This was confirmed when Father Jennifer turned to glare at him. “Granted, it does have its difficulties, most of them stemming from Uptown.” She named off those difficulties, counting them on her fingers. “Neglect, exploitation, false messiahs….”
“False what?”
She turned back to watch Xina. “Incidentally, in case you’re wondering, none of the doctors or Public Eye have found the spare clothing you webbed to the underside of this bed.”
Miguel stared at her, slackjawed.
“I won’t tell them, if that’s what you’re wondering. But I have to say I’m not surprised. Honesty was never your virtue in either guise, was it?” Once again, she turned to stare him down, raw judgment etched in her features.
Miguel steeled his resolve. “Oh, I see. You think that proves I’m Spider-Man. No, Spider-Man was in here earlier disguised as me. He was wearing my clothes, and he ditched—“
“He hid them when the Goblin arrived.” Father Jennifer remained unconvinced. “I’m not an idiot, Miguel. I know the truth.”
“You only think you do. So are we done with the confession booth, Father? Or should I tell you in great detail about that time in Mass when I played with my—“
“It’s not over by a long shot. Not when you have so much to atone for … as my sister would have attested, if she were alive.”
“You’re in a hospital room I own,” he reminded her, teeth clenched. “And you’re visiting my childhood friend. If you want to drag Dana’s memory into this, you can kindly leave, you sanctimonious—“
“If memory serves, Xina Kwan was once your girlfriend of many years, before you cheated on her with Dana. I believe that says quite a bit about you.”
It was all Miguel could do to keep from baring his venom-laden fangs. “Is that why you’re here? To pass judgment?”
Father Jennifer flashed a sly smile. “In part. Are you ready to repent?”
“’Repent’?” Something about the way she said that caused Miguel’s eyes to narrow in recognition. “Y’know, this hospital was just invaded by someone who threw that word around a lot.”
The smile remained on her face. “Was it, now?”
“Yeah, and now that I think about it, he had a habit of sporting a ‘holier-than-thou’ attitude, just like you’re doing now.”
“It sounds as if you’re implying something.”
“Maybe I’m just suspicious of the same line of bull flowing from two different mouths. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you and the Goblin are in cahoots.”
“So you’re giving me the benefit of the doubt.”
“I’m starting to think I have reason to change my mind.”
Jennifer was silent for roughly a minute. Then, “let me tell you a story, Miguel.
“I wasn’t always a Father; I wasn’t always a practicing Catholic. My sister and I grew up in Midtown, in a neighborhood as close to Downtown as possible while still remaining on the superstructure. We were poor, so we were exposed to the realities of life at an early age. No police protection, no legitimate job prospects. I knew Dana and I were destined for a better life. As she was the younger sister, I did my best to shield her from the worst parts of our lives. I became part of a black market ring so I could provide for her.”
Miguel raised an eyebrow. “Y’know, last year when Tyler Stone made me think I was addicted to Rapture, Dana said she had friends who could get it through the black market. At the time, I was tripping out and panicked at the thought of being hooked on the stuff the rest of my life. I didn’t think to wonder….”
“How my sister of all people could have ties to the black market?”
“Yeah, later when I thought about it, I just figured she knew people at work who could hook her up.”
“Well, now you know. But one day, a deal went sour, and when the Watchdogs arrested me and members of my gang, they caught Dana as well. Due to some hefty plea-bargaining, she was able to be adopted into a well-off Uptown family, while I was shipped off to a juvenile detention center. Dana was able to have the life I could never hope to have.”
Miguel listened to this with a bored frown. “Should I be playing violin music for you right now?”
Jennifer’s response was a glare far colder than any Miguel could remember. “My intention is for you to understand. Years after Dana and I had been separated, we were reunited. She was a child of priveledge; I was still a ne’er-do-well from the wrong side of the tracks. I could see the disappointment in her eyes, that while she had found a better life for herself, I had not.”
“Now wait a minute,” Miguel interjected. “Hate to interrupt, but Dana never struck me as that judgmental.”
“I found out later that she wasn’t, but our reunion had taken place in a penitentiary. I had long since graduated from juvenile hall.
“So I made the most of my prison term. I studied, educated myself, and I found God in the process. I wanted to become the kind of person my little sister could be proud of.”
This story was filling in some blanks for Miguel; he’d known that there had been a rift between the two sisters, but he hadn’t been privy to the details.
“I took over Saint Patrick’s Cathedral in Downtown,” Father Jennifer went on, “and I’ve been offering aid and relief for the impoverished there. I had hoped that Dana would see the difference I was making … but she never visited Downtown to my knowledge.”
Jennifer’s eyes narrowed. “Then she died. She was collateral damage in the battle between Venom and Spider-Man. All of a sudden, the one person who mattered to me was gone. I turned to my former life as an operative in the black market. I used the connections from my youth to build an arsenal.”
“And what arsenal would that be?”
“You haven’t figured it out?”
“I’m a corporate executive. I’m not supposed to draw conclusions.”
“But you’ll allow me to slip up and confess, giving me enough rope with which to hang myself?”
“You’ve been doing a decent job of it so far.”
“In that case, I confess. I’m the Goblin.” Father Jennifer’s hands began to shimmer, and the hologram of her bare hands faded. Underneath was exoskeletal armature extending from her elbows to her fingertips, which ended in sharp metal talons. Miguel realized it was the kind of armature normal hidden within the Goblin’s gloves.
Miguel chuckled. “Well, can’t say I saw this coming.”
“Perhaps because I’m a woman? Because I’m a Father?”
“Because you’re admitting it too readily. If you’re him, then why are you all of a sudden so desperate to reveal your identity? There has to be some kind of catch.”
“Because I originally didn’t know yours. I just knew Spider-Man needed to hurt as much as I’ve hurt. So I embarked on a crusade to expose him as a charlatan, a false hero.”
“Why not just kill him?”
“Still not going to admit you are him?”
“Why would I?”
Her demeanor became relaxed. “Fair enough. I didn’t just kill ‘him’ because Spider-Man is revered as the ‘Harbinger of Thor’. As a god! Utter blasphemy. I have worked so hard to turn the underpriviledge toward salvation through Christ, only to discover they don’t want to be saved! They think a belief in Thor is enough! You’ve become a religious figure, and thus a martyr if you were killed. My only recourse was to engineer your fall from grace in the minds of your followers.” Her talons glowed, projecting an interlacing hologram that described the Goblin’s green, grinning face. “What better way to undermine Spider-Man’s godhood than as the devil in his mythology – the Green Goblin?”
“I hope you’re aware of the irony of a good little Christian volunteering to play the part of a devil.”
“Of course I am. And I understand that you see the Goblin as evil. But I am not. Anything I’ve done has been in the service of the Lord. The greater the descent—“
“’The greater the rise from the abyss’. Yeah, I remember you telling me that a while back, in reference to Kron Stone. Who, I should add, was much more responsible for Dana’s death than Spider-Man was. Why is Spider-Man beyond redemption, but an unrepentant killer like Kron isn’t?
“That’s different—“
“Do you even realize how full of crap you are?”
“Don’t you take that tone with—“
“Which are you more upset about: your sister’s death or the fact your favorite religion was upstaged?”
The hologram was turned off. Jennifer stood up from the bed, livid. “I’m upset because my sister wasted her life on you!”
“So that makes this whole vendetta okay? I don’t think you’ve thought this through—“
“You’re the one who doesn’t understand, Miguel! Once I discovered who you really are, and the extent of your sins, I knew I had the responsibility to force you to see how many lives you’ve ruined!”
“You’re gonna nail me to the wall because you think I’m some religious figure, and you’ll tell any lie and forgive any murderer to make me look like the root of all evil?”
“You are!”
“So you masquerade as the people closest to me. Tell me something: how do I know you’re the real Jennifer D’Angelo?”
She blinked, caught off-guard. “What?”
“The Goblin’s been wearing the faces of quite a few people lately.” He counted off the list on his fingers. “Dana at the church. My brother earlier tonight. For all I know, you’re just another face he’s wearing.”
Jennifer chuckled. “Funny you should say that. The Goblin you encountered at the cathedral and at this hospital? He wasn’t masquerading as your brother. He is Gabriel.”
Miguel raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“Who do you think told me who you are? I’ve been meeting with your brother quite a bit lately.” The talons of her right hand projected a hologram of Gabriel O’Hara’s face, virtual goggles and all. “In our latest session, he spilled your secret. Knowing how much he resents you, I have the perfect candidate for The Program.”
“And that is … ?”
“A personality engram file I found in cyberspace. It was originally designed to allow any user to believe himself to be the original Victor Von Doom. I copied the source code and replaced Doom’s memories and personality with select portions of the Goblin’s.” Her left hand’s talons projected the Goblin’s holographic face one again.
Miguel stared at her, trying to process this. “So now he believes he’s….”
“The Goblin, yes. And that he always has been.” She brought the two holograms together, blending them so that the two images overlapped.
He scowled. “Did he have a say in this?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’ve done him a service.” The image of Gabriel disappeared from the amalgamated hologram, leaving only the Goblin’s grinning visage. “He now has the power and the ability to destroy you. Not just kill you, but destroy you.”
Miguel bared his fangs. “And you have a handy little scapegoat. A puppet.” Then he shook his head, taking a breath. “Have any more stories to tell me?”
She blinked again. “You still think I’m lying?”
“Well, with all the illusions and deceit the Goblin’s been slinging around, how’m I supposed to know what the truth is?”
“The truth is what I’ve been telling you!”
“Am I supposed to take your word for it now? No. Shock that. I’m through with the mind games.”
The Goblin hologram disappeared. “Yes. No more games. Repent or die.” She brought her talons up to Miguel’s eye level.
Miguel held his ground. “Does this look like a confession booth to you?”
“Then our fates are sealed. Yours, mine, and Gabriel’s.” Grinning, she released blasts of energy from her talons.
Miguel brought his arms up to guard his face, and the energy blast seared his forearms, singeing the fabric of his jacket. He lowered his arms in time to see Jennifer swinging a right hook at his jaw. He could have dodged it, but instead he let the exosketeton-covered fist strike him and send him crashing backward into the hall.
“That was really pathetic, Spider-Man,” Jennifer taunted as she strode out into the hallway, talons crackling with energy. “I was expecting you to put up more of a fight than that.”
“Because I’m not Spider-Man,” Miguel claimed, rubbing his jaw as she laid on his back on the hallway floor. Three Public Eye security guards converged on them, drawing their sidearms. “But you on the other hand … you just confessed to being the Goblin. So you’re under arrest.”
As the guards closed in on her, Father Jennifer unleashed energy bolts from her claws, mesmerizing them and sending them to the floor with the Goblin’s illusions in their heads. Turning to Miguel, Jennifer watched as he reached for one discarded handgun. “Do you really think you’re going to shoot me with that before I fry you to a crisp?”
“You do realize there’s a commandment in the Bible about killing, right?” Miguel asked, his fingers closing around the gun. “The one prefaced by the words, ‘Thou Shalt Not’? Even I know that one.”
Father Jennifer aimed her talons at him once again. They glowed even brighter. “There’s also a passage that states, ‘an eye for an eye.”
“Reading comprehension at its finest. But to answer your question: no, I’ve never been very good with guns.” He clicked off the gun’s safety.
“Then this is where we part w—“ A loud clack interrupted her train of thought, and she slumped onto the floor, unconscious.
Standing behind her was Conchata O’Hara, who’d just clubbed Father Jennifer with the butt of her own gun. “Mess with my head, will ya?”
“Brutal,” Miguel commented as he clicked the handgun’s safety back on, set it on the floor, and stood up. “But effective. See to it she gets sent to the looney bin. Maximum security.”
Conchata looked down at the unconscious Father. “Is this woman really the Goblin?”
“Apparently so,” Miguel answered.
“But the name she called you….” Conchata looked at him, her face stark. “Does that mean she knows you’re…?”
Miguel nodded. “She’ll have to be listed as completely insane and a pathological liar. Good thing she has both bases covered.”
But as more Public Eye officers and hospital personnel moved in to carry off the injured, Miguel recalled the look in her eyes and the utter conviction with which she made her many claims.
Especially the one about his brother.
No. She had to have been lying. Just another illusion to mess with his head.
It had to have been a lie.
Gabriel O’Hara’s apartment. Midtown.
Bombshell.
He had to find out for himself whether or not it was a lie.
He was a man of science, after all. He refused to take any claim at face value unless he could verify it for himself. Which was why, the first chance he got, Miguel was soaring toward Midtown as Spider-Man, gliding on wind currents as he made his way toward Gabriel’s apartment.
Finding out for sure presented a number of challenges, though. If he barged in on Gabriel’s home and demanded to know whether or not he was the Goblin, the best-case scenario would be that his brother would think him insane. If Gabriel denied it, Miguel would accuse him of being a liar and ransack the apartment for proof.
Great, Spider-Man realized. I’d end up treating my brother like a criminal for being someone else’s puppet.
But that was only if Father Jennifer had told the truth. She certainly hadn’t proven herself a reliable source.
He let the updraft’s momentum carry him to the façade of Gabriel’s apartment building and clinged to it with sharp talons. Peering through Gabe’s window, his accelerated and low-light vision allowed him to see that the dark apartment was deserted. Literally so: all of his belongings had been moved out. Only a sign remained, hung on a wall. It read, ‘If you can read this, hold that pose.’
Within his mask, Spider-Man blinked in confusion. He had no idea what that was supposed to—
He leaped away from the building as quickly as he could. The apartment exploded an instant later, bathing the surrounding area in flame and chaos. The resulting shockwave slammed Spider-Man against the wall of a building across the street and nearly caused him to bite his tongue in half.
His limp body dropped to the pavement at street level, and he laid there, too stunned to move.
Later, when he looked back on the event, he would wonder just what it was that had made him move away from the apartment when he had. It seemed to be a sudden, ice-down-his-back realization that the scenario wasn’t just odd, but dangerous. He doubted the original Spider-Man had one of those, and he knew for a fact that real spiders didn’t. Perhaps it was just that he’d been at this costumed outlaw hero shtick for almost a full year.
In any event, all he could do at this moment was stare blankly at the night sky as the smoke and ash from the burning building rose toward it.
The flames illuminated a familiar bat-winged figure, soaring and circling above Spider-Man like a vulture. It was, of course, the Goblin, taunting something Spider-Man couldn’t hear because his ears were still ringing.
The Goblin’s purple facemask split apart once again, revealing Gabriel O’Hara’s gloating (albeit bruised) face. The mask then slid back into place before he turned and flew off.
At that moment, Spider-Man came to a sobering realization: he hadn’t thought ahead to what he would do if Father Jennifer really had been telling the truth about Gabriel.
TO BE CONTINUED
ARACHNOPHILIA
Well, there ya have it: the three-part arc exposing the Goblin’s true identity. For some, the revelation that it’s Father Jennifer D’Angelo really wouldn’t be surprised: it was Peter David’s original plan for the character back when he was writing the Spider-Man 2099 comic series. He left the series before it ended due to an editorial upheaval, and in his final issue, the new editorial team changed around the reveal so that the Goblin would be Gabriel O’Hara rather than Jennifer.
This Spider-Man 2099UGR fanfiction series diverged at a point before Peter David had left the series, so the revelation of the Goblin’s identity hadn’t happened when this series started, and it in fact could go an entirely different way. I could decide it’s Jennifer, Gabriel, or even someone completely different.
So why did I choose to present the reveal the way I did? There are a few reasons: first, Peter David created the Spider-Man 2099 characters and mythos, and I wanted to respect what he was trying to accomplish. So in my mind, the Gablin was always Father Jennifer, and the interesting part of the dual identity is that her reason for being the Goblin of 2099 had never been revealed. David himself had even claimed in a recent interview that he could no longer remember what Jennifer’s motive had been – after all, it’s been over a decade. So that meant I had some lattitude with coming up with a (hopefully) plausible explanation.
Second, I could have left Gabriel out of the Goblin’s sphere of influence altogether, but I wanted to mess with the readers’ expectations a bit. The handful of fans on the 2099UG message board are well aware that the Goblin was originally supposed to be Jennifer instead of Gabriel, so throwing Gabriel into the mix – and even throwing in the red-herring possibility of Dana D’Angelo – allowed me to hopefully keep readers guessing. After all, Peter David’s Spider-Man 2099 series was a very unpredictable series; so too, must David Ellis’ Spider-Man 2099UGR.
Third, given where Gabriel’s mindset was at the beginning of the 2099UGR series, this storyarc simply made sense. He’s in mourning over the loss, his ex-girlfriend for whom he still carried a torch. He resents Miguel O’Hara for a variety of reasons, including the fact that he moved in on her years ago. Father Jennifer saw a man who was hurting and in need of guidance, so she offered it … in her own twisted way. Sure, at first her motive was altruistic, but once Gabriel let it slip that the Spider-Man she secretly resented and the Miguel O’Hara he resented were the same person, she saw an opportunity to solve both problems at once whilst giving closure to both herself and Gabriel.
The end result is that the mantle has been passed on to Gabriel – who now believes he had been the Goblin all along – and Jennifer is now in an institution. But how long will either situation last? Keep reading. I plan to keep on making this series as unpredictable and compelling as possible.
Honestly, this storyarc was a lot of hard work to write, and it had a lot of twists and turns; I’m ultimately not sure how successful I was at presenting it all coherently. Ultimately, that’s up to you readers to decide. I would really appreciate some feedback on this.
--David Ellis, 10.02.2009
Next Issue:
It’s Miguel’s one-year anniversary as Spider-Man in "Year of the Spider" by David Ellis.