Perfect Clone

The pitch-black armor advanced slowly down the laboratory corridor like it had entered one-man-army mode. Bullets struck its indestructible shell almost without pause, and warped casings scattered across the floor like little golden beans.

Michael blasted through wave after wave of CIA agents with nonlethal weapons, blew open one reinforced door after another, and reached the control room without being slowed for even a step.

Infrared imaging showed that there was only one person in the control room, marked by Sherry as "unarmed." Michael raised a hand and blasted the door down with a Pulse Cannon. At a glance, he saw the man in the suit holding up his hands and shouting, "Don't kill me! I'll tell you everything!"

Without a word, Michael sent him flying with a blast. He hit the window with a clang and stuck to the glass like a discus.

"I believe he just said he was willing to talk," Sherry reminded him. "Perhaps he could tell us the Master Controller's name?"

"No, he doesn't know. He's too cowardly and too stupid to know anything classified."

Without even glancing at the man in black stuck to the window, Michael kicked open the experimental chamber's hatch. A ghostly blue glow rippled across the walls and ceiling. Complex, precision instruments surrounded the room, all connected by a tangled web of wires to the fluorescent glass vessel at its center.

Michael walked up to the vessel and looked through the transparent glass at the "subject" imprisoned inside. He froze for a moment.

It was a girl.

He had expected to find the most unusual clone of Peter Parker here. He had imagined that it might have four legs, a spider's head, or perhaps be infested by some evil black symbiote and driven into a violent frenzy. But he had never expected the one locked up here to be a little girl, like a sleeping beauty.

She was a very pretty girl. Her skin was white as snow, her face bright and exquisite like polished jade, and her long blonde hair floated freely around her in the buoyancy of the blue liquid.

She looked no more than fifteen or sixteen. Young and immature, yet possessing a hazy kind of beauty, like a carefully sculpted work of art.

Michael circled halfway around the vessel and found the control console. "Sherry, can you access this device's system and pull up the detailed data?"

"Working on it."

A hacking-process window popped up in the corner of the monitor. Michael watched lines of code race past, and half a minute later, the words "Access Granted" flashed across the console screen.

A huge amount of information appeared in several windows across Michael's helmet display. At the same time, Sherry summarized it concisely. "The records state that this female clone's original template was named Gwen Stacy, Peter Parker's girlfriend. One month ago, she was thrown from Washington Bridge to her death by Harry Osborn, a supercriminal calling himself Green Goblin II. The Spider-Warrior project successfully cloned Gwen Stacy and incorporated a cracked version of the Oz serum into her genes.

"It says she was the Master Controller's most valued creation. Precise genetic adjustments ensured that her overall qualities were the most perfect among all clone soldiers. Based on ability metrics alone, she was even superior to the real Spider-Man in every respect."

"Interesting." Michael skimmed through the files at a glance. "But what was the point? If they just wanted to clone spider soldiers, why use this girl as the template?"

"The Master Controller appears to have planned to alter the Stacy clone's memories, fabricating false memories to make her hate Peter Parker. The Master Controller believed that this clone could exploit Peter Parker's guilt over Gwen Stacy and destroy Spider-Man both physically and psychologically."

"Now that's a vicious move. This Master Controller must really hate Spider-Man." Michael paused, then added, "Though once we steal his precious clone and ruin his grand revenge plan, he'll probably hate us just as much. Can you shut down the system and get her out?"

"Of course, if that is what you wish, sir."

Sherry completely took over the control panel. "System Shutdown" soon flashed across the console screen. The blue light abruptly went out, and the vessel's glass cover slowly lifted. Air rushed into the chamber like mad, forcing out a flood of culture fluid.

The girl's body went limp, and she toppled out lightly. Michael reached out and caught her.

"Contact Wanda. Tell her we need to borrow an empty guest room. A new guest is moving in."

"Yes, sir. But are you certain you do not intend to take her to the S.W.O.R.D. facility?"

"Take her back to S.W.O.R.D., lock her in an isolation chamber, and let a crowd of lab coats point at her through bulletproof glass?" Michael said. "When she wakes up, she'll think she's Gwen Stacy. She'll clearly remember how she died. So a more comfortable environment may help more than an isolation chamber."

"Yes, sir. After all," Sherry replied teasingly, "you're the Boss."

Peter Parker took two deep breaths, straightened his collar, and tried to make himself look as natural as possible before entering the house. But he quickly realized that the mud all over him, the bruises on his cheeks, and the holes in his jeans were not things a more natural expression could hide. That was why he had decided to prepare a "white lie" for Aunt May before going in.

Peter slowed down as he approached the front door.

"'Hi, Aunt May, I'm back. What's for dinner? Oh, what? You're asking what happened to me? Nothing. I just fell down on my way home. Yeah, right, I fell down again.'"

He stopped and took a deep breath.

"Okay, that sounds like something an idiot would say," he muttered to himself.

Peter reached the door, but just as his hand was about to touch the handle, a violent stab of pain stopped him. A tidal wave of Spider-Sense surged through his nervous system, exactly like the feeling he had experienced when he encountered that strange man in the black bodysuit earlier.

This time, he could even sense the direction of the danger warning—it was coming from his room.

Someone had broken into his house. The thought terrified him and made him uneasy. He could not help imagining that the intruder might have hurt Aunt May. Without thinking, he leaped up and climbed the white exterior wall to the second floor.

His Spider-Sense grew even stronger, as though he could clearly feel the exact location of the uninvited guest in his room. He climbed through the window, landed on the sill, and crouched like an athlete at the starting line, ready to spring at the intruder inside.

Then he froze, as if struck by lightning.

He saw himself in the room.