Deadpool Syndrome - Spider Soulmates

Chapter 1 - Psycho Killer, Qu'est-ce Que C'est?

***GWEN***

The spider bite stings like a Mother Hubbard. Why that one funny line from The Amazing Spider-Man is in my head, I'm not quite sure. But at least it gives me something other than the pain to focus on.

Although maybe I should instead be paying attention to the interminable blather spewing from the mouth of Norman Osborn. You never know - there could be something important buried in there.

Don't worry. The writer's voice is a surprisingly welcome distraction. There's nothing important hidden under this waffle.

So far, I've only talked to the writer once - and that was actual talking. With my mouth and tongue and vocal chords. Does he listen to spoken thoughts as well? I decide to experiment with one. Yeah, and as long as we're going with food metaphors, here's a fine little pickle you've let me get into.

I wouldn't say I got you into this, the writer says. But I'm sure you're not the only one who's gonna blame me. I just record the story the way it's supposed to go. That's my job.

And by that, you mean I'm supposed to win along with Peter, the Avengers, and all the other good guys. Right? Right?

"Are you paying attention, Gwendolyn?" Norman says, his voice becoming dangerously silky.

I force myself to look at His Royal Asshood. (What can I say? I've read too much of The Dark Ice Chronicles in my time, and Jay Cross has some amazing lines to rival Peter's.) "Are you my parents? Are you lecturing me about some bad shit I've done? If not, don't call me 'Gwendolyn.'"

"It's your full name, and such a pretty one, too," Norman says, his fingers gently rubbing the glass vial in his hand. The spider he'd had bite me is once again safely inside the vial. Like me, I think it would rather be anywhere but here. Even the South Pole.

"So?" I spit at him. "I didn't say you could use it."

"You also didn't give me permission to have you bitten by my spider," Norman points out, "and yet I did so anyway."

My lips curl in disgust. Before I really learned how sick and twisted the Osborns were, I didn't think there was ever a real-life human being that I would detest more than Kanye West, or Igloo Australia or whatever the hell dumbass porn star name that girl insisted on taking for herself. Of course, now I know better. Now I know more about the depths of depravity to which a man can sink. A man - or two men, in the case of this family of freakishness. Actually, strike that - the Osborns are more like a man and a Goblin.

"At least give me the dignity of an answer to this question," I say, feeling uncannily like Liz Keen talking to Raymond Reddington - the only fictional criminal my dad actually likes to watch. "Why me?"

"So many reasons, Gwendolyn," Norman says. I resist the urge to roll my eyes again - anything that distracts him and breaks his villainous monologue, I need to avoid. Especially if what Wanda said about the cavalry (possibly including the Cavalry, Agent Melinda May herself) coming to get us is true. I'm really counting on that being true. Really, really counting.

"Go ahead and name them," I say, consulting an imaginary wristwatch. "I've got plenty of time." As I look at my wrist, my eyes move up my arm, drawn like magnets to the site of the spider bite. It's healing incredibly fast - which I guess is par for the course. I once asked Peter what it was like when he was bitten. (This isn't a scene that was recorded in the movies, by the way - this is an actual memory, one of many that's been resurfacing in my head. How much longer until the picture is complete, I have no idea.) Anyway, long story short, Peter told me that the bite itself didn't hurt after a while - but then, when his powers began to come in, things started getting really awkward, really fast. His hands would stick to everything and anything they touched. The most casual of gestures (such as hitting the snooze button on an annoying alarm clock in the morning) could pack tons more strength than he could ever have mustered before. And he'd found himself eating a lot more food than usual, especially on the first night after the bite.