Civil War Prose Novel (15 page)

“They’ve been assigned a double apartment, together.” Tony gestured to Spider-Man. “We’re not trying to punish anyone, Peter. This is about containment.”

A tall, thickly built agent brought up the rear, escorting the red-garbed figure of Daredevil. DD walked easily, confidently, despite his fetters. When he reached Tony and Spidey’s position, he stopped and turned straight toward them, despite the helmet covering his eyes.

His radar sense,
Spider-Man thought.
The dampener must not be stopping it completely.

“Tony Stark himself,” Daredevil said. “Here to admire your handiwork?”

Tony said nothing.

“Impressive.” Daredevil gestured up at the towering spires. “Built by Stark Enterprises, right? The government’s really been handing out those no-bid contracts. How many millions have you made this month?”

Spider-Man turned to Tony. “Millions?”

Tony hesitated. With a jolt, Spidey realized:
It’s a lot more than millions.

Billions, maybe.

The S.H.I.E.L.D. agent prodded Daredevil forward. But Tony held up a hand. “It’s all right, agent. I’d like to talk to Daredevil while you bring him in.”

Daredevil turned blind, hooded eyes to Tony and Spider-Man in turn. Then he marched toward the door. Tony fell in beside him, and Spidey followed.

“Daredevil—is it Matt? Never mind.” Tony held up a hand, opened the door. “I want you to understand why we’re doing this. I assure you, I don’t take any pleasure in hunting down my friends.”

Daredevil’s lip curled in distaste.

“I sat there in Washington, on Capitol Hill,” Tony continued, “and I watched them debate this issue from every side. In the end, it came down to two choices. Registration, or a total ban on all super hero activity. I think you’d agree: none of us wants that.

“You’ve heard of the Fifty State Initiative? It’s real. It’s happening. Eventually there will be fifty super-teams, one in each state. Every member trained, licensed, and accountable to the U.S. taxpayer. It’s the next stage in superhuman evolution. We’re already training new super heroes, and working to find a place for anyone who wants to join us.

“Daredevil: If you’re interested—if you want to come clean, to register and go public right now—you’d be at the top of my list. You could even have your own team, call the shots. What do you say?”

They’d reached the cellblock. The S.H.I.E.L.D. agent lifted an access card and said a few words into the cell door. It whooshed open. The cell inside looked just like Sandman’s—a bit neater, Spider-Man noticed.

“Otherwise,” Tony continued, “this is the alternative. And nobody wants that, either.”

Daredevil stood in the doorway, silent and grim. At length, he turned to the big S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

“Agent Chiang,” Daredevil said. “Would you give it to him, please?”

Tony turned to the agent. “Give it to me?”

“Ah, yeah.” Agent Chiang reached into a pocket-compartment, pulled out a small disk. “When we processed him, we found this under his tongue. We tested it, it’s harmless. But he said he was savin’ it for you.”

Tony took the object in his hand. Spider-Man peered in and saw what it was: an ordinary silver dollar.

“I…I don’t understand,” Tony said.

Daredevil half turned toward him. “That’s thirty-
one
pieces of silver you’ve got now, Judas.”

Then he turned and strode into the cell. The door swooshed shut behind him.

The agent secured the door and started back through the corridor.

“Come on,” Tony said.

Spider-Man lingered for a moment, gazing at the cell that held his longtime friend. The rumbling in his head seemed louder now, pulsing, filling his mind.

He turned to follow Tony back through the prison. Past rows of cells soon to be filled, exercise rooms and courtyards waiting to be used. Tony seemed to have talked himself out; he was quiet now, thoughtful.

And slowly, Spider-Man realized what the ache in his mind was.
Spider-sense.
Not like he’d known it before, a sharp shock warning him of imminent danger. This was lower, steadier, more constant. A different kind of alarm entirely.

He followed Tony Stark out and up, off the surface of the asteroid, away from the prison called Project 42. But he couldn’t escape the buzzing in his head. The nagging feeling that things had gone very wrong, and were about to get even worse.

The suitcase lay on the bed, half packed. It was small, carry-on size, with little wheels: barely enough space inside for a change of clothes, some toiletries, and a well-worn blue super hero costume. Somehow the costume still fit, even after two children and dozens of super villain battles.

Sue smiled.
Must be the unstable molecules.

She’d had to sneak into her own home, past the S.H.I.E.L.D. blockade. If Reed were to check the entry logs, he’d see that she’d entered her passcode—and, of course, the security cameras would record the outer door opening briefly, then swishing shut. It wouldn’t show anyone entering, of course, because no one had. At least, no one visible.

But Reed was distracted. Very, very distracted, even more so than usual. Right now, one floor above, he and Tony Stark were overseeing the transfer of the captured “Resistance” members to that horror show they’d built in the Negative Zone.

Once Sue was inside the building, she hadn’t felt the need to stay invisible. Reed would never notice her. These days he had no time for anyone, except Tony.

Sue flung open the top bureau drawer, felt around for her old, disused communicator. Found it: a bulky walky-talkie device with a “4” etched onto it. She tossed it into the bed, next to the suitcase—and then her eyes stopped on something else, lying in the back of the drawer. She pulled it out, held it up to the light.

A model rocket ship. And not just any rocket: a replica of the privately built ship that Ben Grimm had piloted out of the desert that fateful night. The night that Sue, Reed, Ben, and Johnny braved the cosmic ray belt at the edge of Earth’s atmosphere, and were transformed into the Fantastic Four.

She’d almost forgotten this model. Reed had built it for her on their first wedding anniversary. The paint job was meticulous, down to the silver detailing on the old-style rocket tubes. The tinted cockpit even showed four little silhouettes inside.

She remembered thinking it was possibly the worst anniversary gift in history. And that had made her love Reed even more.

She wiped away a tear. Turned to the baby monitor on the night table and switched it on. Listened, for just a minute, to the voices of Franklin and Valeria arguing with HERBIE, their robot babysitter, about who was allowed to pick a DVD to watch.

Then she heard a noise, just past the doorway. She snapped off the monitor and willed herself invisible—then thought better of it, and faded back into view. It was pointless to hide. If Reed didn’t already know she was here, the half-packed suitcase would be a dead giveaway.

“Suzie?”

The figure in the doorway was bigger, bulkier than Reed. Ben Grimm’s rocky frame stood slumped, almost in defeat. Sue let out a relieved breath—which caught in her throat when she saw what he was holding.

Another suitcase. Fully packed.

They stood together awkwardly for a moment. Each staring at the other.

“You’re leaving?” Sue said.

Ben pointed at her suitcase. “
You’re
leavin’?”

“I have to, Ben. After today.” She grimaced, felt tears rising again. “But what about you? I don’t—are you going to join Captain America’s group too?”

“Naw.” He dropped the suitcase; it landed with a loud THUNK.
What does he have in there?
Sue wondered.
Spare rocks?

“Suzie, I took a long look around after the battle was over. At that chemical plant. There was toxic goo all over the floor, jagged glass an’ metal, not a wall left standing. Now, Tony had wrecked the place pretty good to start with, as part’a the trap. But I saw what we did, all of us, fightin’ like starved rats in that little space.

“An’ I couldn’t stop thinkin’: What if there’d been people around? What if one single civilian had sneaked past the barricades, a reporter maybe, an’ got himself crushed in between me an’ Luke Cage? Or under that big acid vat Falcon dropped?”

“I know.” Sue crossed to him. “Listen. I have a rendezvous scheduled for—”

“No no no! I don’t wanna know. I ain’t pickin’ sides here. Far as I can tell, Cap’s as guilty in all this as Tony Stark.”

Sue frowned. “What are you saying?”

“I’m sayin’ the registration law is wrong, an’ I can’t uphold a law I don’t believe in.”

“That’s what I’m—”

“But I’m still a patriot, Suzie. I love my country. I ain’t gonna fight the government, or let that government brand me like a criminal. So the way I see it, I only got one choice.

“I’m leavin’ the country.”

She stopped, took a step back. “Oh.”

“France, I figger. At least till this is over.” He glanced at the night table, and his big blue eyes grew misty. “Aw, hey. Look at that.”

Sue followed his gaze over to the model rocket. She picked it up, handed it to him. They stood together for a minute, staring at it.

“We were the first,” she whispered.

“Yeah.” He turned to her, an odd look in his eyes. “You ever regret it all, Suzie?”

“What?”

“All of it. The rocket flight, the powers. Followin’ Big Brain all over creation: into space, other dimensions, the freakin’ Negative Zone. The fights, the drama…you had a few other guys after ya there, for a while.”

She frowned. “Ben…”

“You ever regret marryin’ him? Settling down?”

She smiled sadly. “I’m not sure I’d call this ‘settled down.’”

“That ain’t an answer.”

A harsh buzzing rose from the communicator, lying on the bed. Sue snatched it up quickly.

Ben raised a massive eyebrow. “I ain’t seen one’a those for a while.”

She held up a finger, motioned him to wait. “Johnny?”

Her brother’s voice crackled through static. “You there, sis?”

“Hang on one minute, Johnny.” She turned back. “Ben—”

“I gotta go, Suzie. Good luck.”

“You—oh, you too, you big goof.”

“Just do me one favor, okay?” Ben’s face was very serious. “Stay away from Atlantis.”

“Sis? I can barely hear you.”

“Johnny, hold on—”

But when she turned back toward the door, Ben was gone.

“Sis, we haven’t used these communicators in years. Where’d you even find them?”

“I couldn’t risk cell phones, Johnny. Tony Stark can see through satellites, these days.” She grimaced. “But I don’t think anyone uses this frequency anymore.”

“You always were the brains of the family. Well,
our
family.” Static rose again, then subsided. “…next move?”

“Where are you? Still at Marika’s?”

“Martika. Yeah, it’s—”

“Mar
tik
a. No, don’t even tell me. Let’s meet in half an hour—say, outside the Blazer Club. Nobody’ll expect to see us there again.”

“Scene of the crime. I like it.”

“Be inconspicuous. But no stupid disguises. Leave the fake nose and glasses at home.”

“Aw, sis. The ladies love that one.”

“I gotta go, Johnny. See you soon. I love you.”

“You’re such a girl.”

The communicator went dead.

Sue turned back to the baby monitor.
I should go see the kids,
she thought.
One last time. This is going to be hard on them.

But she knew:
If I do that, I won’t leave.

She picked up the rocket model, hefted it in her hand. Held it over the suitcase, then turned away and placed it, carefully, back in the bureau drawer.

I’ll be back,
she thought.
I hope.

Then she zipped up the suitcase and turned invisible.