by Neil Kleid
Vermin mewled and crawled away from Sergei’s torch, from the blistering contact with the bars. He sobbed, great weeping tears leaking from rheumy red eyes. “Out…” he snuffled in a pleading, sibilant whisper. “Out. Pleassssse let me out!”
Sergei was keenly aware of the man creeping closer to his back. He grinned, and firelight danced across his eyes as he pushed the torch through the bars of the cage. He carefully edged it across the distance, avoiding contact with the electrified bars.
“Vermin was the final test,” he said, tossing the comment over his shoulder to the wall-crawler. “The final proof. You were unable to defeat him alone. In fact, you and Captain America could barely do it together.”
He looked back at Spider-Man and grinned in the web-slinger’s direction. “But I defeated him.”
Sergei turned to face the cage again. He held the torch out to Vermin so that shadows elongated on the wall. “Look at him—a whimpering, terrified, pathetic little mouse. And I did it.”
Sergei laughed loud and long. His booming voice echoed around the cavern, dancing into the shadows and returning to join them by the cage. “I. Did. It,” he repeated, letting the statement sink into his enemy’s breast.
Sergei tossed the torch inside the cage. It bounced along the floor, sparks flying wide and nearly singeing Vermin’s already blackened skin. The rodent squealed and cowered, eyes wide and frightened. “No, don’t burn me! Don’t hurt me any more, pleassssseeee!”
Sergei grinned again, watching Vermin skitter and scramble from the torch. Something pushed past him, elbowing Sergei aside, and he caught a glimpse of red and blue as Spider-Man wordlessly leapt onto the curved ceiling. Vermin howled, dancing away from the flames.
Sergei stood back and watched, waiting to see what Spider-Man would do. He crawls upward, filled with compassion for the cowering creature. But inside, does he secretly delight in Vermin’s torment?
Spider-Man made his way around to help Vermin. But when the Rat caught sight of the Spider, he forgot about the flames and electricity. He ran screaming across the cage. “Sssspider-Man! Nononono!”
But of course, Sergei realized. All Vermin knows is that Spider-Man hunted, captured, and humiliated him. The very sight of that costume—of its cold, white eyes— drives the little mouse wild, regardless of the man beneath the mask. Vermin doesn’t understand that I, Sergei, was the one to beat and break him. Not the weak-willed do-gooder wearing the Spider’s skin—a man I had already broken, humiliated, and replaced.
And as the Rat hurls himself against the bars— enduring the torture he’s been undergoing for days—his tormentor, the Spider, does what he can to alleviate his pain.
Spider-Man fired a web at the burning brazier, smothering the flames. He flicked a wrist and pulled the smoking torch out of the cage, flinging it to the side, where it landed harmlessly next to Sergei’s bare feet.
He does what he can, then skitters back down the wall, turning his rage on me. On me! Sergei stifled laughter through gritted teeth. He folded his arms and waited for Spider-Man to come, to continue his single-minded quest for unrequited revenge.
He blames me, this man. This fool wearing the Spider’s skin. What a monumental joke.
Spider-Man reached out and grabbed Sergei’s mane, the ceremonial lion skin draped around his shoulders. He pulled Sergei down to meet his eyes. Sergei continued to smile, showing his teeth, unwilling to give the man any false satisfaction or unearned triumph. Tonight, Sergei thought, tonight I can see that the man I thought a Beast—the man from whom I chose to retake my family’s honor—tonight I see that he, too, is ignorant.
“I have had it with you,” Spider-Man said in a rough, hoarse voice. “Do you hear me? You think you can just...turn my life inside-out and then stand here? You think you can…” Spider-Man shook both fists and gripped Sergei’s mane even tighter. “Well, you can’t!” he bellowed.
Poor man, Sergei thought, laughing to himself. Poor deluded fool.
Sergei stared into Spider-Man’s eyes and thought back to their previous encounters—to the fruitless battles and the endless hunt. My first impression of Spider-Man was right. This man—this bag of flesh and emotions—is no arch-demon, no great Beast. How terrible, how frustrating that a man such as this has been able to defeat me until now. How foolish he seems in this new, revealing light. How utterly naïve. He does not understand honor or dignity, merely rage and revenge— and compassion for this caged, vanquished rat.
Sergei lifted his hands, slipped them between Spider-Man’s clenched fists, and knocked each arm aside with a subtle but deft wrestling move he’d learned in India. Free of Spider-Man’s grasp, Sergei sprang past his enemy with a sneer. He leapt atop Elephant and straddled his magnificent prize. He looked down at hero and monster, prison and prisoner—both Spider-Man and Vermin trapped in cages of Sergei’s making.
I was naïve once, Sergei remembered, before I left this corrupt excuse for civilization behind. Back before he understood the wiles and machinations of his own Beast. Before he’d found the honor and dignity his family had lost when Sergei’s country—his parents— fell to the Spider. He’d been naïve aboard the freighters and trawlers of the ocean, the countries he’d crossed until he found purpose, renewal, and knowledge in the primitive wilds of Africa.
But now I know, Spider-Man. I understand, my beguiled enemy. The false Truths have been stripped away, and the real Beast has revealed its face. Here in my home, I confront both my ancient enemy and my most vexing foe.
And he is me.
Sergei reared back atop Elephant and howled a primal, guttural roar that traveled around the chamber and echoed off the cavern walls. He gripped the pachyderm’s immense body and dug both fingers into its skin, his knuckles whitening as he closed his eyes and growled once more. He felt a surge of warmth rise up from deep within his breast. The fire radiated out to Sergei’s arms and chest, fueling his cry of exultation.
Hear me, Spider. Hear me, man.
Hear the bellow of Elephant and the roar of Lion, proclaiming my victory—
—the triumph of Kraven.
TEN
KRAVEN’S victory cry penetrated Spider-Man’s ears and burrowed its way into his skull. Peter’s chest tightened with anxiety and irritation, his breath coming in short, desperate bursts. The walls seemed to be closing in. Kraven’s laughter circled him, wrapped him in its mocking, suffocating embrace. He half-wished his spider-sense would flare up to drown out Kraven’s voice in a flood of buzzing, droning pain.
The laughter fragmented, splintering into thousands of piercing howls. It rose in pitch and volume, winding itself into a shrill cackle. Plumes of incense coiled at Peter’s feet, swirling and filling the cavern. The smoke obscured Kraven’s face and forced Spider-Man to blink away a flood of stinging tears.
Peter opened his eyes to a purplish fog. He spied the Hunter atop his elephant—except it wasn’t Kraven, but the spindly, orange-cloaked form of Ned Leeds, the Hobgoblin.
Shadowy forms danced in and out of the haze, flitting around the Hobgoblin’s frayed orange cape. Friends, foes, people lost and loved. And crawling in the back, eight skeletal legs propelling it across the barely visible cavern wall, was the great, dead Spider: one more casualty in Peter’s quest to live up to his responsibilities.
He crouched and prepared to fight the Hobgoblin, to tackle the undead Spider, but his fingers felt numb; he couldn’t connect with the web-shooters strapped to his wrists.
Come on, man. It’s the smoke. It’s Kraven playing with your mind. It’s…it isn’t real.
But it felt real. Peter’s throat started to close up, his windpipe compressing as a sensation of crumbling, falling dirt washed down along his feverish body. He looked up, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes as a sudden vision of falling stalactites caused him to flinch and step aside. He shook his head once more and turned to the Hobgoblin
Kraven! It’s Kraven. He’s the one who put you in the ground, in the grave. Focus, Parker!
/> but instead came face-to-face with rows of jagged markers sticking out of the earth, each bearing the name of someone he knew.
“No,” Peter whimpered, “no, this isn’t real…not again. Please, stop.”
(A graveyard, Peter? Ned’s voice wheedled in his ear again. Dead men, dead spiders. Makes sense to me. Spider-Man and Death—a partnership for the ages.)
“No,” he cried, voice barely above a whisper, “I hate death. This isn’t real.”
(What’s in it for Peter Parker?)
The tombstones danced by, taunting him with anxiety-inducing déjà vu. Eight legs reached out to pry Peter’s hands apart and hold him in place, forcing him to watch. Others joined the Spider’s gruesome task. Mechanical arms gripped Peter’s legs. Beating vulture wings cast a shadow across his face. A scorpion’s sting and burst of electricity forced him awake as massive hands in rhino-gray carried the tombstones forward. The hands flipped the markers around, displaying long-forgotten faces carved into their backs in stark, harrowing relief.
(Tell me what you see)
“No, not again.”
(Deeper, Peter, you’ve got to go deeper)
Ghosts encircled Peter, penning him in, shoving names and faces into his field of vision. They wailed around him, begging for answers: Why had he let them die? Why had Spider-Man returned while those around him were gone forever? They shrieked accusations in his ear, blaming Spider-Man for their deaths.
He dropped to one knee, fingers clutching the front of his mask. “Shut up, shut up, stop it.” He did his best to drown them out, to shut out Ned’s voice and all the others.
Their wails grew louder in volume, harmonizing in time to the pounding in his ears, the roar of Kraven’s voice, and the thunder outside the walls. A horrible, tingling sensation crept its way up Peter’s spine. He welcomed the rush of his spider-sense—it meant he was truly in danger. He concentrated, determined to block out the spectres that his beleaguered mind had conjured up out of pain and shame.
Kraven’s roar finally overpowered their voices. Peter dragged himself through the blackening fog, away from the illusory graveyard. He moved toward Kraven and the elephant, ignoring the clarion call of his spider-sense to focus on Kraven’s howl and the pervasive, percussive sound of jungle drums. Dizzy from the incense, Peter zeroed in on the drums, seeking the heartbeat he knew lay beneath. But Kraven’s cry rose in pitch and Peter’s head exploded in agony. He reached out and grabbed the elephant by its hide, lifting it from the base. Uttering his own strangled cry, Spider-Man tossed Kraven off its back, sending him sprawling into the dirt.
ELEVEN
“SHUT UP!” Spider-Man cried.
Sergei lifted himself onto one shoulder. He barely cared that Spider-Man had thrown him from Elephant, or about the sudden end to his victorious bellow. He looked over his shoulder at the seething vigilante; despite the pain in his veins and limbs, he felt a pang of sorrow for the man. For the first time, Spider-Man understood what had happened. He finally realized the Truth. And no matter what happened next, nothing would change that Truth.
My triumph frightens you, doesn’t it? You know the game is over, and that you have lost. Sergei got up on one knee and brushed soil from his arms. He sat there, hunkered down in the dirt, and gave Spider-Man a pitying glance, seeking some sign of realization inside the wounded eyes of his oldest enemy.
Oh, there’s still a world out there for a Spider to torture and feed upon. Entrails to chew and vulnerable, weak-willed minds to spit out into the dust of the ages. But the Spider no longer has Kraven in its power. And that not only scares the man—it saddens him, as well.
Sergei rose to his feet and approached the wall-crawler. Spider-Man shrank away from Sergei’s touch, his chest heaving with exertion as he took short, sharp bursts of breath. Sergei advanced and raised a hand to Spider-Man’s chin, reached out a finger and softly caressed the other man’s face. In some strange, inexplicable way, Spider, he thought, this saddens me, too.
Spider-Man pulled away, raising a hand to ward off Sergei’s touch. Spider-Man walked back toward Vermin’s cage and folded his arms, hesitating. Sergei smiled again, his expression softening to a bemused smirk. He stepped away to the far side of the cave.
You recoil, he said to the Spider. Why? Does my affection embarrass you? No, it isn’t that. It’s just that the game, our eternal struggle, isn’t quite done yet, is it?
Sergei moved to a flat sheet of stone in the wall, adjacent to the base that had once held strong-willed, stoic Elephant. He pressed against the stone, and it slid aside to reveal a series of buttons set into the cavern wall. He pressed one button, rotated another, and stepped away to watch.
No, not yet. It isn’t enough to display the Truth. The Truth must be set free. Experienced firsthand.
A soft humming filled the cavern. The chain above Vermin’s cage cranked twice, lifting the metal enclosure two feet above the floor, obscured within the roiling cloud of indigo smoke. With a clank and a creak, the bottom of the cage fell away. Vermin tumbled out onto the ground, squealing in terror.
TWELVE
VERMIN landed at Spider-Man’s feet, clawing and whining. Then he raced away from Peter, screaming, seeking somewhere he could be safe from Spider-Man’s fury.
“Noooo!” Vermin’s high-pitched, horrified cry drove another dagger into Peter’s skull, but this time it was joined by the blaring call of Peter’s fully restored spider-sense.
This can’t be good, Spider-Man thought.
Kraven came up from behind, striding through the fog. He jabbed an accusatory finger at Vermin— at the pathetic, beaten creature who simply wanted to be free. “This is the finale, Spider-Man,” Kraven declared. “This is the end. Show me who you are… show me what I have made you.”
Kraven bared his white, shining, carnivore’s teeth. “Reveal the Spider and embrace the Truth,” he said.
“You…you expect me to fight him, don’t you? Fight Vermin for your amusement.”
Kraven let out a breathless sigh. “No. Not my amusement. For my emancipation.”
Edward kept moving, searching for a hole or crevice in which to hide. A deep, dark tunnel into which he might steal away from Spider-Man’s gaze. “Pleassse,” he begged, red eyes glistening in the purple smoke. “Don’t hit me…don’t hurt me anymore.”
Spider-Man turned to face Kraven and stood his ground. “Well, you can forget it. I won’t do it.”
Annoyance passed over Kraven’s face, followed by patient resignation. “You won’t have to,” he replied. Then he turned to Vermin, who was barely visible against the rear of the cavern.
“Vermin!” Kraven called in a voice both strident and encouraging. “This is your chance!”
THIRTEEN
“VERMIN, this is your chance!”
Edward listened to the Lion Man, the Hunter who’d tried to beat him. He heard the powerful voice and shrank back against the wall, hiding like a mouse in its hole.
“Spider-Man beat you down,” the Lion Man said, “hurt you in a way you’ve never been hurt before!”
“Hit me and hurt me,” Edward whined to himself in a tinny, squeaky voice. “Pleassse, no more no more.”
you idiot, Vermin said inside Edward’s head. he’s right it’s now or never it’s time to show them that we’re not afraid, show them why we came above in the first place
Edward hid his face in his hands, wept silently, and ignored Vermin and the Hunter with the lion’s mane. “Never should have left the cold and dark,” he said. “Never would have felt the pain and fire.”
you’re right but now is our time; now is the time to strike and feed
“Soooo hungry,” Edward whispered. He licked his lips. The Hunter had barely given him any food, only a few of his mouse friends, and how cruel had that been?
soon, my friend, soon we’ll eat again, anything we like but first listen to the wordssss listen and be free
“Don’t let Spider-Man get away with it, Vermin!” the Lion Man yelled
. “Don’t let this man think that he’s better or stronger than you are! Don’t let Spider-Man prove that you’re afraid!”
Edward snuffled. “I am afraid,” he told Vermin.
i’m not. i’m ready to feed. ready to eat the crawly man. the insect man who hit and hurt us. ready to defeat the
“...the Sssssspider-Man,” Edward breathed, a string of saliva glistening from his sharp, deadly teeth. “But there are two of them, there are two and we could never—”
listen, fool. the lion man is inviting us. he’s no captain america, no hero or cop
Edward nodded. “Yes, right, you’re right…he won’t hit or hurt or hit.”
no, but we will. we can. we can show them who we are…and why we came above. why we will also be free
“Yessss...” Edward listened to the voice in his head. It egged him forward to strike. He took a step, scraping against the gravel at his feet. He hissed long and low, listening to the growl of his empty stomach.
Spider-Man tried to plead with Edward, to warn him away. “Hang on, Vermin, listen—!”
But Edward had stopped listening. Spider-Man had carried him here beneath the earth and tasked the Lion Man to torture him within an inch of his life, and finally Edward’s hatred for Spider-Man was greater than his fear. It spurred Edward onward, and he heard Vermin salivating from somewhere deep within.
he’s afraid. he’s alone
“He’ssss ours,” Edward agreed. He hooked his hands into sharp, vicious claws.
“Hurt him back!” Kraven screamed. And with a guttural roar, Vermin ran from the darkness and launched himself at Spider-Man, shrieking with fury— prepared to eat his fill of the Spider’s blood-red heart.
FOURTEEN
I DON’T want to do this.
Peter stepped aside as Vermin rushed from the shadows, blood in his eyes. Peter placed a foot against the massive, upended elephant to brace himself. With his other foot, he kicked out at Vermin, knocking him out of the way.
