Tracking

The blue-and-black-clad clone lunged at them with the full force of a starving wolf, every blow whipping the air into violent turbulence. The two Peter Parkers darted and weaved around him, moving so swiftly and unpredictably that they were like the wind.

The clone in black caught the instant Peter dodged sideways and flicked out a long, thin strand of webbing from his fingertip. Peter reflexively pulled in his stomach, and the web shot past him, barely grazing his abdomen before hitting the tree trunk behind him.

"What the hell? He can shoot webs from his fingers?" Peter shouted. "Can all of you do that?"

"I can't." Clone Peter lightly evaded a massive fist that swept past his nose. "That was a special modification for him. His body synthesizes proteins similar to the material expelled by web-shooters."

"That's... kind of cool." Peter rolled across the ground to evade another web, then added, "And really disgusting."

Clone Peter withdrew, with the man in black lunging after him. He threw three consecutive punches, all of them missing, always falling two or three steps short of Clone Peter. He let out an increasingly agitated, guttural growl.

"He's not actually a bad person. We talked when we were being held captive," Clone Peter said.

"Yeah, judging by how badly he wants to tear you apart, I'm guessing you two had a great relationship," Peter quipped as he moved in to help.

"That's only because he's unstable. He often loses control and his mind, and it happened frequently in the lab too. In fact, we only got the chance to escape the facility because of one of his rampages."

"None of that sounds helpful unless you have some idea how to bring him back to his senses."

"I do." Clone Peter raised a hand and brushed aside a punch. "What do you usually do when a computer crashes?"

Peter caught on. "We... smack the case really hard?"

"Exactly. That's the plan," Clone Peter said. "Ready? I'm counting down three, two, one."

Perfect understanding, perfect coordination. The two Spider-Men each deflected an incoming fist, then simultaneously crouched and sprang upward with unbelievable synchronicity. Their two Shoryukens struck the black-clad man beneath the jaw like twin rockets launching into the sky. The clone in black grunted and fell backward, crashing heavily onto his back.

Peter was quite certain the back of his head had hit the ground first.

The clone in black lay there for perhaps five or six seconds before slowly sitting up and shaking his head. Peter cautiously stepped back and assumed a fighting stance. "Does this mean we have to do another round? Or—"

"No need, Peter. He's fine now." Clone Peter stepped forward and helped the man in black to his feet. "Kaine, do you feel all right?"

"Won't die," Kaine said, holding his head. "But your punches... really pack a punch."

"Kaine? You all have names?" Peter folded his arms.

Clone Peter glanced at him. "When we were created, we only had serial numbers. Then some men in suits showed up, forged identities for us, and gave us fake names. It seemed like they wanted to recruit us as some sort of super agents."

"So you have a name too?"

Clone Peter fell silent for a moment.

"Ben." He nodded. "Ben Reilly."

"We can discuss identity issues later. We have more important problems right now." Kaine gritted his teeth, clenching his dark fists until they cracked. "We need to find the Master Controller and stop that madman before he creates more beings like us."

Ben Reilly frowned. "But nobody knows where the Master Controller is. We don't know how to—"

"Stop lying to yourself, Ben. We know where he is," Kaine said loudly. "You can feel it too, can't you? Something deep inside our bodies. Some instinct tells us where he is. Like an invisible spiderweb, and if we follow its trail, we'll find our creator."

"There's no evidence that it's guiding us to the Master Controller." Ben frowned. "Maybe... maybe it's only leading us into some trap, one that activates once we escape the laboratory."

Kaine stepped closer. His black mask and messy red hair made him look as sinister as a ghost.

"You're just afraid to face it." Kaine spoke each word slowly and clearly. "But I'm not afraid. I'm going to find the Master Controller now, whether you come with me or not."

"All right, all right. I'll go with you. It's not like people like us have anywhere else to go." Ben grumbled twice, then turned to Peter. "Are you coming?"

"Are you kidding?" Peter clenched his fist and slammed it into his palm. "We're talking about a whole bunch of my clones. Did you really think I could just stand by?"

***

Two pairs of laser-guided Micro-missiles swooped down, and two watchtowers collapsed in flames. Michael, clad in black armor, vaulted over the wall and charged into Whitehall's base facility. Hydra soldiers in the courtyard swiftly assembled, automated turrets dutifully rose to engage him, and every available unit was immediately redirected toward the main gate in an attempt to slow the intruder.

Michael crossed his hands and fired in both directions. Pulse Beams danced in his hands like blades of light. High-explosive missiles tore through armored vehicles, blasting their flaming hulls seven or eight meters into the air. Incendiary bombs erupted amid the infantry, spreading great sheets of fire as burning Hydra soldiers screamed and rolled across the ground.

Whitehall's most capable deputy, Sunil Bakshi, was anxiously pacing around the command room as reports of breached defenses arrived one after another. He could feel the floor tremble beneath his feet with every explosion outside, each one making him wonder whether the ceiling would collapse the next instant.

"Is it not done yet?" he anxiously asked the experts working frantically at the computers.

"You have to understand, Mr. Bakshi, destroying data on this scale takes time," one sweating expert said, his hands never slowing for a moment. "Mr. Whitehall wants no trace of any data concerning the 'Obelisk' to remain, and it cannot be restored in any form. We need time."

Bakshi turned to the communications officer on the other side. "Then tell the front line to hold out a little longer."

The officer helplessly looked up. "Sir, that's the Black Knight. He took down all of Hydra by himself."

He did not dare finish, but the meaning was already perfectly clear.

That man outside had wiped out all of Hydra single-handedly. What could they possibly do with so few people and such limited equipment?

Ten seconds later, the outer wall of the command room completely collapsed. The shockwave from outside blew several people, Bakshi included, off their feet. Black armor drifted slowly into the room, pale blue flames jetting from its back, while the Hydra agents inside quickly drew their guns and opened fire.

Michael did not even bother to look at them. The armor's intelligent targeting system automatically locked onto each of their heads, and the Vulcan cannon on his left shoulder deployed, shooting every Hydra agent in the room in the head almost simultaneously. Michael did not even need to move a finger.

His gaze fell upon Sunil Bakshi, who had been knocked to the ground by the blast. Before he gave the order, Sherry had already used facial recognition to confirm his identity and displayed detailed information in list form at the corner of Michael's vision.

"Looks like I won't have the pleasure of meeting Mr. Whitehall himself today." Michael descended and looked down at Bakshi. "But it's an honor to meet his deputy."

"Mr. Whitehall isn't here." Bakshi sneered at his helmet. "He is a great man with an even greater plan—a grand plan that will pull you down from your throne and restore Hydra to what it should be. But before you came in, I had all relevant data deleted, so you can never—"

"If you mean the Obelisk, my artificial intelligence downloaded every bit of data you had ten minutes ago," Michael said indifferently.

Bakshi froze. "What? No, that's impossible—"

"I'm afraid it's true, Mr. Bakshi." Michael slowly crouched down. "As for you, I happen to have someone with special abilities. She's very good at digging things out of other people's heads, though she has been somewhat lax in practice. I'm sure you'll be happy to help her get some practice."

Bakshi's eyes widened. "I would rather die than reveal a single word related to Mr. Whitehall."

"You misunderstand, Mr. Bakshi," Michael said calmly. "I said I needed some information from your brain. I never said I needed to hear you say it."

"My loyalty to Mr. Whitehall is absolutely unshakable. Even if you use brainwashing methods—"

"Sorry, hold on a moment." Michael waved a hand, cutting off Bakshi's impassioned declaration of loyalty. "But I need to take this call."

Bakshi stared at him in disbelief. "You're... what?"

Michael ignored him, casually firing a low-power Pulse Cannon to knock him unconscious before accepting the call through his display interface. "Wanda?"

"I, um... I'm very sorry, Mr. Passo." Wanda's voice was filled with apology, as though she did not know how to begin. "But we... um... only looked away for two minutes, and she slipped out."

Michael raised an eyebrow.

"Sherry, activate the tracker on Miss Stacy, please."

Wanda sounded surprised. "You put a tracker on her? You knew she would escape?"

"I planned for every possibility." A map of New York appeared before Michael, along with a red dot marking the cloned girl's location. "All right, leave this to me now. You stay on standby and wait for your next assignment."

Michael ended the call and gave another order. "Notify the nearest S.W.O.R.D. unit. Have them come clean up the scene and take in the personnel and prisoners."

"Agent George Bartlett's team will arrive in five minutes," Sherry said. "The current plan is to track Miss Stacy, sir?"

Michael raised his right hand, and sparks flying through the air carved out a circular magical portal along a neat arc.

"What else is there to say? Young people never stop causing trouble. Sometimes we have to be more patient."

He stepped through the portal and waved a hand as the ring closed behind him.