Marvel: Death Dealer

Reference image for Broodlings

***

Gwen grimaced when Miles gave a solemn nod in answer to her question. She honestly didn’t have a good feeling about Miles—her dorky adopted brother who got flustered talking to people—becoming a vigilante. He was too kind and too soft to deal with the bullshit of corrupted maniacs like Norman.

“Miles, why exactly are you here?”

Miles looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know what those things are out there… but I couldn’t just sit at home when you were out here. And…” He took a quick glance at the bloodstains on her face. “I was right to come.”

“I’m not hurt,” Gwen said quickly, forcing a laugh. “Jeez, I tripped down the stairs. That’s literally it.”

Miles stared at her like he could see through her lie. “You—”

“Why are you in… whatever this is?” Gwen cut in, gesturing at his purple and pink suit. “Is this a new trend the kids are doing that I’m too old to understand?”

“It’s my hero costume.” He stood a little straighter and tapped the sleek bracers around his wrists with the tip of one claw, ringing a metallic tink-tink. “I don’t have super strength or, like, spider powers. But the suit’s high-tech.”

Gwen crossed her legs, looking at him with a sharp gaze. “And what does it do?”

He tapped the glowing bracelets on his wrists. “These shoot projectiles. The suit can deliver an electric shock on command. These boots let me jump and run way faster than the best athletes. And these claws…” He flexed his clawed fingers. “They’re very sharp.”

“No.” Gwen gave a firm answer. “Absolutely not. You are not becoming a vigilante.”

Miles went quiet for a moment then pointed across the lobby, to Ororo behind her wall of comm devices and then at the sword-wielding blonde observing them. “You’re casually hanging out with heroes, though.”

“They aren’t heroes,” Gwen scoffed. “That blonde is a famous Russian cosplayer with a niche following. And Miss Ororo is our, uh… on-site logistics coordinator. She took over when the guy went to Italy for a vacation.”

Lies, lies, lies—Gwen was pretty sick of deceiving others. She was sick of being so good at it that it became as easy as breathing.

“You can’t fool me, Gwen,” he said softly, lifting his gaze to hers. “I know Dante is Skullfire… And I know you’re Ghost Spider.”

Gwen froze like a deer caught in headlights. After a few moments, she forced a laugh. “You’re kidding me. Me? Ghost Spider? Dude, if I were Ghost Spider, I’d be telling literally everyone. She’s super popular, you know?”

A cold sweat broke out across her skin. This was a disaster. If Miles slipped it to her father, everything would be over. The whole double life would be gone. And it would’ve been fine, back when she was just a solo crimefighter clocking petty muggers and swinging around for fun. But she wasn’t that small Ghost Spider anymore. She had graduated from busting small-time crooks to tackling world-ending threats. After everything Dante had done for her, she refused to let all the pressure land on his shoulders alone.

“I saw the costume in your room,” Miles said patiently. “I saw Dante come through a portal into your room. He’s set up portals from your room straight to his place. Gwen, you can’t lie to me.”

Gwen had been praying, right up to that second, that Miles was bluffing. She had been wrong. He had airtight receipts on her crimes.

“…Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, dragging a hand down her battered face. She should’ve been careful with the old costume. She should’ve burned the costume or thrown it out, but she wanted to keep it as a memento of her first innocent days of crimefighting. “Goddamn Gwennie. Can’t go a day without self-sabotaging your life.”

Miles sat by her side. “I won’t tell dad.”

“But you’ll use it to hold one over me.”

He grinned. “Lemme help you, Gwen. I wanna try this superhero thing. I’ll quit if it doesn’t work out.”

His innocent smile was all the more reason to stop him from joining her side of the world. Then again, he had blackmail material. She also lacked the courage to ask her mind-controlling friends to wipe his memories. She just couldn’t do that to her family.

“Okay, have it your way, Miles. Just don’t come crying to me if someone shoots you in the head.”

He chuckled. “I’ll be dead, anyway. Haha, I might haunt you until you bury my corpse.”

“Screw you and your ghost. I already don’t get enough sleep.”

“Miss Ororo.” Illyana turned her back on the unfolding family melodrama. “How did you carve up the teams?”

“Black Cat and Psylocke are paired in Midtown,” Ororo answered without looking up from her devices. “Colossus and Jean are holding the Brooklyn Bridge. Laura went to back up Ghost Rider in the financial district.”

Illyana nodded with a soft hum in her throat. “I’ll start with Black Cat first and rotate from there. About time these filthy bugs learned to fear the Darkness made flesh, the Queen of Limbo.”

Both Miles and Gwen shuddered in cringe. Illyana’s love for dark fantasy could be too much at times.

“Yana, wait!” Gwen dashed and caught Illyana’s shoulder before she could open a portal. “Take me along.”

Miles was right on her heels. “Then I’m coming too.”

“Miles, no. This is too much for your first task. I got webs to move around and escape. You can’t do that, bro.”

“If you don’t want me following you into danger, then stay here.”

Gwen blinked, caught off-guard by the firmness in his decision. The awkward, stammering kid had grown a spine somewhere along the way.

Illyana gently removed Gwen’s hand from her shoulder. “You are in no condition to fight. Stay here and protect Miss Ororo, keep your little brother out of the meat grinder.”

Gwen let out a groan. Despite lying being her second nature, she didn’t have the thick skin to claim that she was fine. Her muscles were not fine after that beating from the Spider Queen. She needed rest. “Alright. I’ll babysit the home front. Go have all the fun without me.”

Illyana smirked. “We’ll fight together next time.”

“Sure, sure.”

Illyana turned and tapped a finger against her cheek. “I should probably throw on a disguise. I still want to walk around without being attacked by every Tom, Dick, and Harry.”

“Honestly?” Gwen shrugged. “You should.”

***

Felicia sat on the edge of a skyscraper’s roof, her boots dangling over a thousand-foot drop as if she was waiting for a bus. Psylocke stood beside her, five sheathed katanas hanging at her hip. Together they stared up at the unmoving swarm of Broodlings hovering in the sky like a frozen storm waiting to break.

“I’m getting bored,” Felicia said with a yawn. “For humanity to make Mars habitable so they can have this planet without a fight?”

Psylocke shook her head. “They’re up there to keep us scattered.”

Dante had warned them of this exact scenario, where the mutant pulling SHIELD’s strings would attempt to isolate them, then take them out. She just hadn’t expected that Mister Sinister would bring out armies of alien bugs to fulfill his goal.

He was a complete lunatic.

Felicia revealed a dangerous grin. “They think we’re easy pickings on our own. Cute idiots.”

Psylocke glanced at her. “What did he say about being too cocky?”

“I’m not arrogant,” Felicia murmured, watching the dots. “But hey, if I get caught up in my idiocy, you’ll torch my body for me, right? I’m not ending up as a midnight snack for some overgrown bugs.”

“I should be making that request.”

Felicia tilted her head, looking at Psylocke with a puzzled look. “What for?”

“Death will get you out, or Dante would tear a hole in reality to save you.”

Nobody would risk their life to save her.

A slow look of realization dawned on Felicia’s face. “I’m that loved, huh…”

“You certainly are.” Psylocke sighed, feeling an odd tightness in her chest. “Felicia, if something happens to me… can you ask Dante to wipe out the Hand?”

Felicia nudged her leg with her elbow. “Knock it off. Dante likes you, you know? He keeps bragging to Emma about your ass. Emma’s little heart gets so jealous when he does that.”

“My ass?” Psylocke’s hand flew to the curve of her hip as she stared at Felicia with a surprised look. She had heard the compliment from the man himself, but it still short-circuited something in her brain to be worshipped for her… ass. “He is… so strange.”

“Look, perversion aside?” Felicia gave her a thoughtful look. “He’s not wrong. You’ve got a fantastic ass. Almost as good as mine.”

Psylocke fell silent, declining with great dignity to engage in a discussion about her butt. They were, after all, on the brink of war against an extraterrestrial insect swarm, who were absurdly resistant to her telepathy. Seizing control of one Broodlings required taking control of a whole river of minds, all of whom traced back to one entity.

The Brood Queen.

“If he likes me, he’ll do my request.” She looked up at the stirring swarm. “My survival chances are slim.”

Felicia wanted to say something, but she stopped when a deep hum echoed behind them. Both women turned, seeing a portal spun open on the rooftop. A masked woman stepped out, carrying a glowing purple blade in one hand. Golden hair fluttered from beneath the golden-purple mask.

“Illyana?” Psylocke asked, sensing a familiar psychic signature.

Even without the telepathy, the huge sword and blonde hair reminded her of that Russian woman.

“Yup,” Illyana confirmed, closing the portal with one hand. “Need a hand?”

“No—wait! We do.” Felicia rejected at first but changed her mind after glancing at Psylocke’s katanas. “Our enemies are freakishly tough. Her swords are going to shatter fast.”

What Felicia said wasn’t an exaggeration. Psylocke had imported dozens of katana from the finest swordsmiths in all of Japan, courtesy of her generous salary and Emma’s deep business connections. But only a precious handful ever met her standards for sharpness and balance, and those few were the ones hanging at her waist.

Illyana shook her head. “Wish I could help you, but Limbo’s vault doesn’t have any swords. Belasco was primarily a mage.”

Psylocke was about to reply but stopped once she noticed movement in the swarm above them. The dots were no longer dots. They were descending. “Get ready.”