Deadpool Syndrome - A Marvel Fanfic

Epilogue - The Osborn Curse

***GWEN***

I pace around the cell in which I woke up a little while ago. There's no clocks, of course, so I have no way of knowing how much time I've spent in here.

"Six hours," says the cell's other occupant, a young woman with dark red hair and a Russian-sounding accent. "Three of which you spent asleep."

"Good to know," I say. "Who are you?"

The woman holds out her hand. "I'm Wanda Maximoff." As I shake her hand, she adds, "And you're Gwen Stacy."

"How do you know my-"

"I can look into people's minds," Wanda says. "Read their thoughts, sense their feelings, learn their worst fears. Yours is...well, let's not go there."  She looks up at the cell's only source of natural light - a tiny window about ten feet above our heads. "Do you know where you are?"

I frown at the walls. "Oscorp."

"Not for long, though," says Wanda. She raises her hand and shoots a small burst of red light through the window. "There. Now they'll know to come find us."

"'They' being...?"

"The other Avengers, and the agents of SHIELD," Wanda says. "Including Peter Parker, I trust?"

"I sure hope so." I redouble my frown, wishing Peter were here already. "What exactly did you just do?"

"A little psychic energy burst," Wanda says. "If they're scanning - and they usually are - SHIELD will pick it up and come collect us. Then my brother and I can meet Peter Parker, yes?"

I look into Wanda's eyes and realize she's the other one in that Spider-Man blanket picture. "You and Pietro are big fans, huh?"

"You have no idea. We - oh shit." Wanda stiffens, then presses her ear to the solid metal door. "They're coming."

Seconds later, they do come - a pair of Oscorp security guards in full body armor. Their heads are encased in metal helmets, making Wanda curse under her breath again. I guess her mind-powers don't work on helmeted heads?

The guards take me, ignoring Wanda completely. The whole time they're dragging me into a strange and freaky-looking lab, I'm yelling nasty words at them, the nicest of which is "Get your goddamn hands off me!"

Inside the lab, I'm strapped to a table, all four limbs. Then a man rolls in on a silent, motorized wheelchair. He holds up a vial and says, "I had one of these stolen from me not so long ago. Lesson learned - never trust a security guard."

I roll my eyes and channel Peter's snarky spirit. "Aren't you supposed to be dead, Osborn?"

"Not anymore." Osborn rises from his wheelchair and steps stiffly over to my side. "Thanks to this." He shows me the vial. Inside is a single spider scuttling around frantically. "I think it's a hell of about time I made sure this works on someone else. Don't you?"

"NO!" I can't stop myself - I'm absolutely terrified, knowing what's coming next.

Even as I struggle to break free - a struggle I know I can't win - Norman grabs my arm and pins it down again. With his free hand, he uncaps the vial and presses it to my bare skin.

With nowhere else to go, the spider slides down the vial's glass interior and lands on my arm.

I grit my teeth just in time for the bite.