Chapter 16

A mysterious man saves Willow's life.

Chapter Sixteen

Survival Instinct

 

            He watched with narrowed eyes as Willow sprinted off out of the alley and into the distance until she was just another speck blended in with the usual morning crowd. Cain had observed her since she began the fight with the boys a few hours back. Severin was right. The girl is strong. Maybe too strong for her own good.

            He backed away from the edge of the building. His ears had not mistaken what he had heard just a few minutes ago. Willow was going to start her search for Severin. And soon.

            Cain flipped open a silver phone acquired from his belt. He pressed a single button and the line on the other end rang once before someone finally answered.

            “What?” a voice snapped sharply.

            “Your daughter begins her search. Any orders, sir?”

            “I see…there’s likely to be evidence that points to me. Divert her. Anyway you can. Just do it, and fast.”

            The line went dead and Cain shut the phone calmly. He slipped it into its pouch on his belt.

            “It is decided. The girl vill die.”

 

_____

 

            Willow paced herself as she walked, nearly breaking into a run. She felt the almost-animal urge to run. She wanted to leave behind all her worries and just keep running on and on forever and never get tired. Willow knew she couldn’t. She knew she had to face her past and every single one of her dreaded fears. Would today be the day?

            She ran through the congested streets of Crescent City. People barely gave her a single glance as she hurried on by.

            “Hey, watch it!” barked a random pedestrian as she pushed right on by him.

            Cars honked at her as she mindlessly jogged through the roads. Drivers shouted and cursed at her. She took no notice of them and kept pushing herself on and on. She wanted to know, needed to know. And soon. She wanted to know everything. To find out whom her father is and was. Overall, she had to know the reason why he killed her mother besides trying to get to her. For some reason or another, Willow suspected that he wanted her for something…but that she didn’t know.

            Willow streaked by, the wind whipping her hair around her face and causing her eyes to water. The energy she had a moment ago disappeared and she almost collapsed onto the filthy ground, breathing hard. She wiped a long sleeve across her forehead and it came back moist with perspiration. The run had raised her body temperature; she was hot despite the freezing weather. She clung to the brick wall she had collapsed against and lowered herself to a sitting position on the sidewalk.

            Few people glanced on her as they walked by, but no one took notice of her. She realized that she was finally nearing her neighborhood because the thick crowd of citizens had drawn down to a bare minimum. For that one fact, she was very grateful.          Muscles complaining, she forced herself up off the ground and staggered down the way, eventually gaining more strength with each step she took. She breathed hard. Willow relished the feel of some much-needed exercise and kept going on. Sheer willpower and determination drew her to the place that she most desired to reach. Her house.

            At first, she barely realized that it was her house. She looked up, though, and instantly recognized the thick arms of ivy that stretched all the past the point of her window. She smiled triumphantly and licked the salty sweat from her upper lip. It tasted strangely sweet.

            She straightened herself and kept going until she reached the sidewalk. Thankfully, Agatha and Michael were not home and were busy working at their usual crappy day jobs until at least five or six o’clock in the evening. She stared at the empty driveway, and her smile grew even wider. She reached under the welcome mat and pulled out the key to the front door.

            “Hah.”

            Willow slipped the key gently into the doorknob and twisted it. She took the key out and placed it back under the mat. She pushed lightly on the front door. It creaked open, groaning at her touch. The entire house was still and silent as a graveyard. Literally. The only sound she could hear was the soft hum of the fridge and the faint ticking on the first floor.

            “Ooh, so scary,” Willow joked to herself as she stepped in. Her worn sneakers thudded softly against the lush carpeting of the floor.

            She suddenly remembered something.

            “Oh s**t.”

            She had accidentally left her backpack at school. She had dropped it when she had slapped Allister, not even bothering to pick it up. She shrugged, a jolt of guilt running through her at the thought of losing something.

You win some, you lose some, she thought. Doesn’t really matter to me anyway despite the fact that it had all my textbooks in there. It was crappy, anyway.

            Not caring, she trudged up the stairs and into her dark room. It was freezing because Willow had unknowingly left the window open that morning and forgot to close it. She stepped over to the window and shut it with a heavy slam. The room shook from the impact, but settled down soon after. The entire house was steady and silent. A chill crept up her spine. She had no idea whether if it was because of the outside wind or the loneliness of the house. Or maybe it was both.

            Willow walked over to her bed and sat down. The springs creaked under the weight of her muscular body. She thought for a moment. She wanted to find her father, but how? He was likely very well hidden someplace in Crescent City. Probably in some unexpected place that he thought that Willow would never, ever look for.

            She drew her legs up in front of her and crossed them. She meditated, pondering the places where he might live.

            Downtown might be likely. Lots happened down there. She didn’t know whether or not the criminals of the downtown area were linked in any way to Severin. She thought about the slums. Possibly but not very criminal-like.

            She grabbed her pillow and punched it twice with both fists in frustration. It looked like finding her father was going to be harder than she ever thought possible. She stopped and thought.

            Wait. Hard. Hard and tough. Underground. That’s it… He’s hiding underground. It’s the only possible explanation I can think of. Maybe the Internet has something on him or about his possible underground location.

            She jumped up from her bed. Willow sat down at her desk and waved the mouse back and forth on its pad. The blackness faded from the screen of the monitor and was replaced with the background that was pitch black with a single girl off to the right side with pale skin and black hair with her eyes closed and holding a black rose. She logged onto the Internet and brought up Google. She typed in Crescent City, underground, Severin Struthers” into the search engine and clicked “Search.”

            A few links appeared after a moment, but none were what she was looking for.

            Sheesh, maybe he doesn’t have an underground hideout after all. Bad idea, Willow.

            She was about to log off when one of the links drew her concentration to it. The link read “Lunar Laboratory’s Chief Scientist Severin Struthers was fired…”

            She double-clicked on the link and an entire article from the Crescent City Chronicle popped up right before her eyes. She squinted from the light, but once she got used to it, her mouth almost dropped open. A color photo of a group of smiling scientists was presented before her. And one of the scientists, although a man, looked exactly like her.

            “No…”

            The caption beneath the photo listed the scientists’ names. One name was Severin Struthers. The picture had been taken back in 1989 but Willow could see the resemblance between her and her father in physical features. Besides, the violet-red eyes that often haunted her dreams were real hard to forget, especially since they were her own.

            Underneath the group picture was another one taken at least one or two years later. It showed a slightly more aged and disheveled Severin being arrested and led to a police car from a courthouse.

            Willow began to read the article now that it had fully captured her in its grasp.

           

RENOWNED SCIENTIST ARRESTED AND TRIED FOR ILLEGAL TESTING

 

            August 12, 1991

            Today Dr. Severin Struthers was tried and convicted at Moonridge Courthouse. He had been illegally testing some sort of drug and/or serum on random persons (do not wish to be named at this time). Struthers was a renowned scientist, having won many awards for his studies on genetics and improving human health. He is probably best known for his work on a recent medicine named “Quartex,” which is designed to strengthen those with weak immune systems, and his studies on sexually transmitted diseases.

            This “drug” he had been illegally making is suspected, on certain sources, to mutate human beings. On the randoms he tested this drug on, they all died within a week. Struthers is accused of murder and violation of the government’s restrictions on some such testing. In his words, he was “just trying to help the government’s armies and navies to equipped with more efficient, better weapons of the genetic sort.”

            Dr. Severin Struthers has been sentenced to thirty years of time behind bars. More information will be revealed as this case presses on.

 

            Willow drew back into her chair and sighed.

            “I’m not just facing a science geek, but also apparently a jail-breaker and a major murderer.” She closed her eyes and smiled slyly to herself. “All the more reason to make him pay.”

            She licked her lips. A tapping at her window made her jump in her seat. She looked around at it. Nothing except for a single piece of white paper stuck to the branch outside. She rose from her seat and hurried over to the window and opened it. She unstuck the piece of paper and found that there were words on it.

 

Willow,

 

I know you are looking for your father. You will find him at the rundown building of which used to be the main headquarters of Lunar Laboratories.

 

Good luck.

�"A friend

 

            She opened the window up further and glanced around with a curious gaze. A cold wind swept over her front, chilling her the moment it touched her skin. There was nothing and no one there. Then how did the note get there?

            “God, that’s strange. I thought I heard something,” Willow admitted, bewildered as she hastily shut the window back up. She shivered again from the frigidness of winter. She sat down on her bed and read the note over and over until she got what she was reading was real into her head. Was it true? Would she really find her father?

            The only way to find out was to follow up on the lead herself.

 

_____

 

He stopped in front of his house and just stood there, taking in everything. The yellowed grass almost looked like hay and the beautiful autumn colors floated in the air around him. The crisp leaves that had fallen weeks ago crunched underfoot as he walked his way along the path to the front door. The sky was overcast with grayness. It didn’t look very threatening, but the weatherman had oftenly enough warned to start watching out for early signs of snow.

Allister wasn’t all that surprised, though, because it had been getting more frigid with each passing day. He felt that things were getting…looser somehow now that it was getting closer and closer to the holidays. Thank goodness that Thanksgiving weekend began this Thursday or else he wouldn’t be able to survive school any longer than he could already. School was bearable as long as he had distractions such as talking to his friends. It was a pity that his previous group of friends got angry at him just because had taken to hanging around with Viola and Willow.

He thought back to that thought for a moment. He knew why he stopped hanging out with his other friends and with Viola and Willow. It was because of his powerful attraction to Willow. Things with him and her may have started out pretty shaky, but in the end the two turned out to be pretty good friends after all. And Al hoped that he and Willow would have been something more than just close friends someday. He had backed off from her because he knew that without talking to her about it that she was in love with someone else. That someone possibly loved her back.

He could also tell that she was also confused about her feelings for both the other guy and Allister all at once. He could feel for her since he had once loved Viola, but backed off because of Viola telling him that Willow was in love with him. Why were things so confusing all of a sudden? It seemed that everyone was in love with someone who also loved someone else and another person at the same time. Plaintively cuckoo.

As he walked, Al reached down into his coat pocket with a gloved hand and pulled out a single set of keys. He fingered through a few of them, the keys clinking as they softly hit each other in his hand. When he finally found the one he was looking for, he held it up with a thumb and his index finger and slid it into the lock hole of the cold metal doorknob. He twisted the key until he heard a satisfying click that announced that the door was unlocked. He pulled it out and returned the key set to his pocket, and he pushed the door open with his palm. Allister marveled at the silence that rushed at him when he opened the door, welcoming him with a scanty smell of cinnamon drifting on the breeze from the kitchen.

He gratefully breathed the luscious scent in, allowing it to completely fill his lungs and overtake him. He broke the reverie by coughing a bit to get some dust out of his system. Once his cough was over, he sighed deeply. What could he say? His mom absolutely loved to cook. Especially during the weekends and the holidays. He wondered what his family was going to do for dinner this Christmas.

Then he thought of winter, which, according to the news, was only a week away. And that week would be more relaxing than ever because he had Thanksgiving Day off. He thought of Willow and felt oddly disappointed. Al was obviously still stuck on her, no doubt about that. Some way, somehow, he had to talk himself out of loving her. He had to, or else he would just simply get hurt. He had never once been hurt by a girl before, besides Viola (that was for a good reason), but he didn’t want to hurt Willow either. It would be best for both of them if he stayed out of her way from now on.

Al threw his red-and-black backpack onto the floor near the door, happy that school was over for the day. Tomorrow, though, he would have to go back and endure Willow.

He hooked a hand around the loop of the top of the backpack and dragged it down the hall and into his room. Clothes were thrown everywhere like always. It was a complete mess and smelled. He threw his backpack into a corner of his closet and dropped onto his bed, arms crossed behind his head. He felt at peace and didn’t obsess over Willow as quite as often. Maybe what he was feeling for her really was just a passing phase, a stupid crush. But something else about her drew him to her, something that fascinated him. Something strange and out of the ordinary.

He closed his eyes and sighed, shaking his head form side to side. No, he was thinking way too much about her.

Think about something else, Allister. Something that isn’t connected with her.

His thoughts wandered, weaving around the sensitive topic of her, but no matter how hard he tried, he found that he couldn’t stop thinking of her. She captivated him.

 

_____

 

Pierce paced around his room, anxiously deciding what to do in his mind. Should he go and tell her now? Or should he call her first and then tell her? He growled in frustration at his situation. Though it seemed like a simple decision to an onlooker, it was more than complicated within his mind. What he needed was a rash decision that required absolutely no thinking whatsoever.

He made up his mind that at that particular moment he would call Willow.

Pierce pressed the numbers on his phone as he held it, glancing at the phone number Willow had given him during the summer for a favor.

It rung once, then twice. He held the phone uncertainly up to his ear as he waited patiently, not sure of what he was doing.

“Come on, Willow. Pick up!”

He hissed in anger and cursed to himself as the answering machine picked up.

“You’ve reached the home of Michael and Agatha Stravinsky. We’re sorry we’re not home at the present time. Leave a message after the beep.”

A long beep came on followed by a silence.

“Willow? Are you there? I guess not. Well, if you get the chance when you get back, call me. I have something important to talk to you about. And it can’t wait. Okay? I�"”

Suddenly someone picked up.

“Willow? That you?”

“Your girlfriend isn’t here at the moment, loverboy.”

“W-who…who are you? What did you do with her?”

“Nothing…much.”

“What�"did�"you�"do�"with�"her?” Pierce snarled.

“Don’t worry. She’s still alive…for the moment.”

“Don’t you touch her! I’ll get you if you do.”

“Oh…I don’t think you’ll be doing anything just yet. Heh heh…”

At that minute he looked around and saw a dark figure above him. The figure raised a syringe filled with a yellow liquid.

“Hey�"”

But before he got a chance to defend himself, the figure stabbed him with the needle and he blacked out.

 

_____

 

Willow, as Arachne, swung her body forward in order to speed herself up. She flew through the air fast, suspended by a single, strong string of spider silk. The wind blew her hair and long black leather coat back. She glanced down at the ground where various pedestrians were walking about and cars shone like fireflies with their taillights. The drivers honked at each other in a desperate attempt to get moving. Others headed off to the various clubs that loomed in between the business buildings of Crescent City.

Arachne swung forward and landed with finesse on the top of a tall glass skyscraper. Gathering herself from the ground, she dusted herself off and sauntered over to the edge. Blaring sirens sounded as they raced to the scene of a petty crime. She swept her leering gaze over the city’s horizon. It was all hers. And she knew it. The night had crept on sooner than she thought. Already a crescent moon hung over the entire city in a bombardment of gray clouds that clogged its lovely but eerie light.

It had been a long while since she had been in costume, but it felt good to be back in her alter ego once more. She knew as a fact she had more power this way when she caught the criminals herself instead of those damn police lazing around on the job like they always did. She knew she had more power. She felt like she actually had a purpose doing what she did almost every night.

When she was her regular boring self, Willow was unsure of everything. She was unsure of how to act, unsure of her whole identity because she was still a teenager and, therefore, striving to achieve a real presence in this world and not just be some confused random. As Arachne the Black Widow, Willow knew she had power, and she could use it however she wanted. And she chose to use it in the name of all of the people who were ever murdered under the name of her biological father, Severin Struthers, and in the name of those who never once received fair justice. As Arachne, Willow knew she was someone and not just nobody. She was a hero, a protector, and it would stay that way as long as she walked this earth.

Arachne glanced at the moon, which was barely a round silver sliver that hung over the hustle and bustle of the crowds below it. She whipped out the wrist of her left hand, the movement causing the sleeve to retract from the area of it, and produced a long, slightly thick string of spider silk that was larger compared to a real spider’s. She climbed onto the edge of the roof. Few people noticed her presence, if any. She maneuvered her body carefully onto the tips of her toes, slowly doing so in order not to fall. Then, Arachne took off from the top of skyscraper, her long hair and leather coat trailing after her in the breeze.

Awestruck people pointed up at her as she flew swiftly over the roads of Crescent City. Others, who happened to be carrying cameras, flashed her image, eager to see who this mysterious being was. As she soared, she heard some people scream at her while others didn’t seem that surprised as they watched her. She knew, even if it was a small percentage, which some people in Crescent City accepted her and her presence for what she was and for what she was doing for all of them. She was simply trying her best to make her home, if not the world, a much better place for all.

Her attuned hearing narrowed in on a conversation taking place between two college boys.

“Look, it’s the Black Widow!”

“Wow! I’ve never seen her before. I’ve heard of her, but I only thought she was just an urban legend.”

“I saw her picture in the paper. She’s hot.”

She rose an eyebrow at their comments. So that’s what my name has come to. A stupid legendary urban w***e. I never knew the media felt so…highly of me.

The two continued to gawk at her as she landed on the roof of a shorter brick building that was presumably supposed to be one of the hottest clubs in town dubbed the Moonscape. She landed with both hands and feet on the ground, swaying only a little from the impact between her and the filthy ground. She stared down beyond the edge. Usually she didn’t head out this early to start her shift as Arachne, but because she was about to meet her father, that was something else. Something much more important to her.

The college boys walked off together. When one glanced back at the building where Arachne the Black Widow had stood, he was shocked. She had disappeared in the blink of an eye.

 

With her spider string, Arachne swung down to the industrial part of Crescent City where some of the most important and main business offices resided. Most of the scientific testing facilities had been built close to the business district of the city, so most of the old ones had long been out of business, and there were also tons of abandoned buildings where the police had placed signs years ago barring people from entering for fear of someone getting hurt from toxic fumes or some such nonsense. Arachne had thought that finding the Lunar Laboratories main headquarters would be very simple, but apparently the architects didn’t have much style for all of the old businesses looked pretty much the same.

“God, where is it?”

Arachne growled in frustration as she wandered the soiled alleys of the ancient structures. The wind blew, and as it did, it seemed to howl hauntingly as it brushed against the structures. How was she supposed to find the damn building if everything looked the same to her?

A sinister hiss ripped through the silence. The hairs on the nape of Arachne’s neck raised in alarm. Immediately, she set herself in battle position. She wouldn’t dare let her fear get the best of her. After all, it was just a survival instinct. But she would be cautious nonetheless.

“Who’s there?” she barked. “Come on out where I can see you. It’s not any use to hide.”

“It is useful to hide. I have the advantage of shadows and darkness to conceal me.”

“Who are you?”

“The friend who sent you the note. I know vhat you seek. You vant your father. I know vhere to find him.”

Arachne was taken aback for the moment, but strived not to let herself show it. He knew where her father was?

“How would you know where my father is? How do I even know whether or not you’re loyal to him?”

“That is just a risk you vill have to take, my dear.”

The way he said “my dear” made her shiver. She suddenly realized for the first that they had talked that he had a thick Russian accent. She knew, regardless of her suspicions, that he was right. She was just going to have to trust him for now. She lowered her fists and placed them at her sides.

“Where do I find my father?” Arachne hissed. Her eyes were hard and cold and menacing.

He nodded at her ability to comply quickly. Before slipping away into the shadows, he whispered, “Follow me, girl.”

And so, he led the way in shadows and darkness in Arachne’s journey to find her father. And to achieve the ultimate revenge on him for what pain he had caused her.

 

_____

 

The door of the house unlocked and creaked open. Agatha Stravinsky sighed, pushing the door open with deep relief. She walked slowly inside and sat down in a chair in front of the television that resided in the living room. She gratefully slipped off the high-heeled shoes that had been paining her feet throughout the entire day. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, breathing in deeply and drinking in the still silence around her. That reminded her of something.

Aggie opened her eyes and glanced at the stairway. Strangely, it was quiet. Too quiet for even her own foster daughter.

Wary, Aggie put on her shoes and smoothed out her navy blue skirt and snow white blouse as she stood up.

“Willow?” she called up the stairs. “Willow? Are you there?”

No answer.

“Willow.”

She climbed the stairs, each step creaking as she dared to touch them. She pulled herself up further with the railing that was nailed securely into the wall.

“Willow. Are you there?”

As the petite woman neared Willow’s door, she was certain that, before she had even entered, it was deserted. When she pushed the door open, she found her assumptions correct. Willow wasn’t there, but her window was open and the room as cold as winter. She shivered, chilled to the bone by the near winter wind. She rushed to close it before it could get any colder than it already was.

Aggie turned around and sat on the comfy bed, stroking the black covers tenderly. She shook her head and placed her face into her hands. She couldn’t understand it. Were she and Mike really that horrible that she would run away under their noses? Did she really hate them that much?

“Willow…why do you do this to us? Why do you torture us?” she murmured to no one through a cascading of tears. “Are we really that horrible?”

 

A few minutes later when Agatha had gathered her self-esteem, she walked down the stairs sullenly. She would wait a while before thinking about calling the police. Her only problem right now was about how Mike was going to react to Willow’s latest escapade.

 

_____

 

The night was tranquil. The darkness that engulfed them both was foreboding and somewhat menacing. Arachne was suddenly uncertain was this “friend” who knew about her quest to find her father.

What if he knows more than he’s letting on? I really want to find Severin, but I had no idea of where to find him in the first place. My only alternative was to follow this guy. I don’t know him, but somehow he seems to know me.

Shadows whispered in her ears; Arachne’s heart throbbed with a stab of fear. Her eyes flashed to the one who had sent her the note and now led her through a complete abyss. She now felt more unsure than ever. Her instinct was screaming at her to run, to hide, to not trust this mysterious stranger she had recently met. But she went against her instinct and decided to follow him. Was her instinct, as animal-like as it was, right? Should she run and not look back?

No, she answered herself. If I want to find my father and make him pay for his dreadful deeds, this guy in front of me is the only one who knows where he’s hiding.

The stranger seemed to have sensed her uncertainty.

“You might take care to remember I am the only person who knows vhere your father is. You are coming?”

Exhaling a shaky breath, she nodded. In reply, the man narrowed his eyes at her and kept on going.

 

The man had disappeared. He had led her, as said, to the place where her father hid. Lunar Laboratories was a run-down two-story glass and steel building that had somehow managed to keep standing throughout all these years after it had been abandoned long ago after her father’s arrest for illegal genetic testing.

Weeds had crept up into the grass and choked every plant of its life. The official sign in front of the building was worn by the ravages of Father Time, the paint peeled and chipped in some places. The logo of Lunar Labs was, or had been, a full black moon with a white crescent moon occupying its left space.

What puzzled her the most was where the man had gone.

Still confused, she came up with at least two possibilities. One, he had probably slipped into the shadows when she wasn’t looking and had run away. And two, he had likely climbed one of the walls of the old industrial buildings that were around here, concealed in the shadows so that she wouldn’t be able to spot him from below.

Arachne looked around. The entire place was silent and deserted of all human life. She didn’t know that the guy had even ran off. She was just too engrossed with her goal.

Why the heck am I even worrying about him in the first place? Sure, he could he anyone, but it’s more likely he’s just some screwed up maniac that thinks he knows something but doesn’t. And why I followed him? Because he was the only one who knew, or said he knew, about the whereabouts of my father. So, really, the stranger I followed was my one and only option to find him.

A nagging voice in the back of her mind told her that there might be something more to why the stranger led her here. That there might be something more to the way he was hiding himself, too. Usually when someone does that, it indicates suspicion. And Arachne was suspicious. Dead suspicious. She had no time whatsoever to play detective and try to follow the guy. The main and only reason she came out tonight in the first place was to find her father, or at least to find some lead on him.

With thoughts of her father came questions about her abilities. Arachne knew that Severin Struthers had killed her mother, and her subconscious had already answered that he was the one who had turned her into the freak she was today.

Am I just a simple science project? A poor, defenseless animal to be tortured endlessly? Is that what I am? Then why doesn’t he have me locked up in a cage in some far-off, remote place, observing me closely along with a band of scientists?

Hate and rage bubbled up from the pits of her heart and soul. She seethed inside and out, clenching and unclenching her fists. She wanted to tear her father apart because of his insolence. She wanted to make him feel the endless pain and suffering of all the years she endured. She harbored a desire to rip him apart, to make him bleed, to watch him die with satisfaction. She craved to stare down at him with malice glittering in her unforgiving gaze as he pleaded to simply get it over with and kill him as he slowly bled to death.

She closed her eyes and ran her tongue over her lips, savoring the vengeance that lingered so, so close. Soon Severin would know what real pain was.

Arachne was suddenly glad to be a freak. As she gazed down with flourishing pride at the spinners on the backs of her wrists, she preferred to use the spinner on her right wrist, she pondered her abilities. It had been the longest time since she had thought about her venomous kiss. She wondered how it worked because maybe she could kill her father with a kiss of death instead of going through the whole gory thing and leave a mess. That lead to questions on how her venomous kiss worked. Wouldn’t it be simpler if she had a venomous bite instead? Ah, but she could see where it would be smarter to use a kiss instead of a bite. Although a bite would be cool, it would be too associated with the idea of vampires and werewolves.

And too many vampire worshipers running after me, exclaiming that I’m a goddess sent to them from the fiery pits of hell to tend to their needs and yadda yadda yadda. Boy, the things people believe.

When she pulled on the doors to the entrance, she found that they were locked tight and, possibly, nailed from the outside somewhere.

“Great. Now what?”

Just as she said those words, she already knew what to do. She would climb the building. She ran to an alley behind the building and placed her hands high above her head onto the steel of the building. A cold night breeze rose, brushing the skin of her hands and traveling up the sleeves of her warm coat. She shivered and goose bumps appeared on her skin underneath the comfortable material. Even a leather coat didn’t seem to keep her toasty in the near cold of winter.

Arachne concentrated on her goal. She smiled again as she pictured her father dying right before her eyes, begging to be spared from a horrible death.

“Yes…”

Gripping the steel structure with fingerless-gloved hands, she pulled herself up one step at a time along the building’s side. Soon enough she was making great progress as each arm and leg did its part to help her along. She was crawling expertly like a spider around the fifth level. There were probably a few more levels to scale until she found a decent place to enter the building.

Arachne glanced down and almost regretted it. From this far up things looked awkward and strange, almost dizzying, but thankful for her keen sight, she was able to see the ground clearly beneath her. She knew immediately that she better not fall, regardless of her sharp abilities that might help her.

At the eighth level or so, Arachne had lost count, she found a partly broken window open enough to be kicked in more and enter. Arachne neared the window and went around the side of it, which was as close as she was able to get without losing grip. She eased her left leg out from underneath her and held it out, anticipating from which angle she should kick. Deciding only once, she gripped the slippery steel with dear life as she shattered the glass with a strong karate kick.

Sweat moistened the skin of her hands, drenching the tips of her fingers. Arachne knew her body was going to give way at any moment. At just the last moment before she fell from the high building, she loosened her left hand and spun a string of spider silk, holding onto it. And then, she fell.

“Ah!”

Arachne soared through the air. She hurtled into the side of the building, but was fortunately stopped. Weakly, she rose her other hand and spun another string up at the window that was only a few feet above her now. Taking in a deep breath, she pushed herself on; she reminded herself that this was for her mom and Viola.

For Mom and Viola. This is for them, all for them.

Slowly and steadily she crawled up on the silk string that she had spun. It was sluggish progress and Arachne felt that she was barely accomplishing anything at all. Over and over, when she was about to give up, her determination nagged at the back of her mind, biting her constantly with the reminder of that this was for all those who had ever suffered.

She stopped and huffed; her muscles, as fit and as strong as they were, were tiring out. She could even feel a few pulled ones throbbing in her lower arms. She knew she wouldn’t be able to keep this up any longer. Soon she would become too exhausted, releasing her grip on the string and falling straight to her death below. That’s when she detected an abnormality in the wall.

Arachne almost strained her neck to see above her, but she was right. There was something different. And it turned out to be the small ledge of the window.

Her entire system then bursted with the gargantuan power of adrenaline. Coursing through her veins, the adrenaline was just the push Arachne needed to reach the small ledge and tiredly drag herself carefully onto it.

“Uh,” she grunted. She shifted her weight like a fragile vase, wary of how strong her grip was.

Lifting herself up onto the ledge, she faced the window. She told herself multiple times not to once glance down. She knew she would just be even more willing to enter the building than ever. Brimming with excitement, Arachne slipped in warily over the jagged glass that threatened to scratch her if she dared touch them. She entered the place perfectly unscathed. Besides the throbbing aches that rattled her muscles, she was perfectly fine.

Gathering up what was left of her dignity, Arachne straightened herself from her crouching position and glanced around her whereabouts. After being abandoned for years, the whole place had built quite the collection of filth. Dust thickly coated the floor on which she stood. Taking a few hesitant steps forward, Arachne saw that the dust was thick enough that footprints from her black leather boots appeared in it much like snow.

Walking faster, she looked around and stuck her head into a room in which the door was ajar. Almost cringing in utter disgust, she ducked out of the room. Apparently rats had made their home in the building for rat droppings were everywhere. Plus it reeked thickly of urine and feces. The smell made her gag, and in turn she covered her nose with a semi-gloved hand. Breathing wet leather was so much better than inhaling the stinking scent of the old building’s inhabitants.

She realized that she must have been walking in the hall of the building for on one side there was an elevator and a door leading to a flight of stairs. The sign beside the stairway door was faded and yellow. Taking her time, she felt for the first time since she entered a slight dampness to the atmosphere. She closed her eyes and listened intently to the sounds around her. Sorting out the distant ruckus of nightly traffic on the roads of the city, she heard the constant dripping of water leaking from the pipes within the walls of the building. The moisture in the atmosphere, she knew, would cause mold to grow.

And probably thickly, too. This place is such a dump that I wouldn’t be surprised that the scientists left it to rot all those years ago.

This lead to some questioning thoughts.

If this place is such a dump, then why the heck would my father hide here? If he’s such the criminal mastermind I think he is, then he’d want to live somewhere more durable and comfortable. It just doesn’t make any sense at all.

Sure enough, as she opened the stairway door, the putrid odor of decay and mold was a wave that swept over her hard. She had removed her hand from her nose, thinking that it couldn’t get any worse than it already was. She literally coughed from the odor. It caught in her throat; Arachne could taste it, and she didn’t like it. It was rotten and so horrible.

Gasping and gagging, she covered her nose and mouth quickly with both her hands. Relief washed over her; she wasn’t sure that she could handle this place any longer than she had. Even though she had only walked down the hall and peeked into a room, she was already beginning to loathe everything about it. She couldn’t wait to find her father and kill him already. Then she would finally be able to get out of this place.

She progressed down the stairs eagerly. Papers and debris that were scattered about the place flew up in the breeze of her passing. She walked down until she found herself around the sixth level. Opening the stairway door, she breathed in a long sigh of relief to be out of that foul dump. Unfortunately, her great adventure wasn’t over yet; she still had to find her father, but so far, besides the rats and mice that lived there, she could find no other sign of life. The place was completely and utterly deserted.

No…no…he’s got to be here. He has to be. What I need to do is to search all the rooms on this level. If he’s here, I’ll know.

Arachne bobbed her head up and down, approving of this thought. Maybe she was right. Maybe she had just missed something a while back. Maybe she just wasn’t looking hard enough. She had to look a lot harder so she could actually make some real progress for once.

That bad feeling sprang up again, tormented her even worse than ever. Shivers crept up her spine. She knew something was up. She could sense it.

I have to concentrate on finding that jerk of my father. That’s what’s most important right now. Finding him.

Still…it bothered her.

Ignoring the annoying sense of foreboding that obsessed her instincts, she clenched her fists. After being used to hearing the sounds of the crowds at school and in the city, she had to admit that it felt strangely odd that it was dead silent. The only sound was the distant roar of traffic on the closet highway and the faint whistling of the chilly night breeze.

Walking down the hall, Arachne spotted the closet door. She neared it and pushed it open with a single hand. Nothing but broken glass, ripped papers, and more droppings resided in the room. The next few rooms she checked were empty as well. She felt that she should give up right now and go home. But she wasn’t going to let Severin win this battle so easily.

A soft noise aroused her attention. She narrowed her eyes and swerved around. A door at the opposite end of the hallway creaked open all on its own. She was puzzled. Who the heck would be hanging out in a place like this? Warily, she moved towards the door. Her suspicions once again bubbled to the surface and her spider instincts kicked in. She moved like a predator down the hall, slinking slowly and gracefully. Flaring her nostrils, she caught wind of a sickly sweet scent that filtered from the doorway.

“Willow…”

She clenched her fists, ready for action. Maybe for the first time in her teenage life her instincts were wrong. That was a possibility, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to prove it or not because her instincts had gotten her out of some pretty tight spots in the past.

The voice whispered her real name once more, but only louder this time.

“Willow…”

It was him. She could feel it in the deepest depths of her marrow. The bad feeling prickled at the back of her neck. It felt like it was warning her not to go in. Why shouldn’t she? She was about to face her father for the first time ever. And he would finally get the justice he rightfully deserved by paying for it with his very life.

Somewhat transfixed by her desires, she forgot her animal instincts and followed the voice. Delicious revenge would be so, so nice. He would know what darkness she knew all her life. The darkness that all began with him. Her father.

Still entranced, she closed her eyes and savored his future suffering. Unknowingly, she walked right into the middle of the floor. She opened her eyes just a fraction and saw him before her.

“You,” Arachne snarled.

Her insides seethed and boiled with the very rage and anger that had been building up for so many long years.

The dark figure in front of her that she believed to be her father struck something across a box-like thing in his hand. She heard a loud hiss and observed a tiny flame appear in-between his thumb and forefinger.

“You know your fate. Now face it,” he rasped.

Arachne knew exactly at this moment why her instincts were telling her so badly to run, to get away.

The sick smell that she had detected before she had entered the room was gasoline. She looked around the floor and saw the moon’s light glinting in the swirling liquid. She made the connection immediately in her mind with the flame in his hand and the gasoline that doused the floor.

He was going to kill her.

Then he flicked the match out of his hands and onto the floor. Fear spiked in her heart. Her eyes widened. Before the match hit the ground, she saw him smile evilly at her as he flew out of the window and down a rope.

As soon as the match hit the floor, the entire room became ablaze with thick and hot fire. The fire started to consume everything in its path. Arachne tried with no avail to reach the door out of the room, but the fire formed a ring around the room, blocking her from trying to escape.

In a matter of minutes, the heat became instantly unbearable. The fire devoured the wooden table and cabinets, slowly taking its time as it broke them down into nothing but ash. The circle of gasoline evaporated, but the fire kept on eating its way on everything around her. The fire raged into the hallway and quickly consumed the entire sixth level.

Arachne was trapped like a cornered animal. He must’ve been planning this for some time.

How am I gonna get out of here?

The old building, despite being made of steel and glass, was also built from wood. And that wood was dry. She knew that the moisture from the old pipes in the walls and ceilings would delay the fire for a while. It was only a matter of time before she died of either smoke inhalation or burned to death.

She jumped over the flames and dodged them so she reached the door. Knowing the doorknob would burn her skin, she wrapped her hand clumsily in her coat and tried to turn it. It was locked.

Perspiring heavily from the heat, she gasped and looked around. She was utterly helpless. No…no…not now! Please…not now…not now…

The whole entire building was now thick with flames and heat. She slipped onto the ground on the only free place where the flames had dared not to dwell yet. The ground was hot. She knew the building would give out in just a matter of minutes. That’s just how flammable it was despite all the gasoline.

It grew hotter by the minute. The windows began to vibrate, and they then burst. Willow covered her face as the broken glass turned into sand. The rest of the glass melted into sand. For the first time in her life she felt truly alone.

Hugging herself away from the flames, the smoke from the fire began to choke her. She coughed, trying her best to rid the poison from her lungs. Arachne’s eyes were so heavy…she just wanted to lay down and go to sleep. She desired so much to succumb to her lightheadedness…wanted so much to sleep and rid herself of her confusion.

Why did I even come here in the first place? I know I was searching for something…but…what?

Her coughing fit grew more intense. She knew that even before her confusion she was meant to die.

The sound of breaking glass drew her out of her confusion. Her senses cleared slightly.  Another dark figure approached her…seemingly appearing out of the flames without being harmed.

“No…no…please…st-stay…a-a-away…” she wheezed.

As it drew closer, Arachne could see the light of the fire glinting brightly in his eyes. She didn’t know if it was from the coughing or the drowsiness, but she thought she his eyes shining blood-red, even redder than her own amaranthine eyes.

She winced as he stopped in front of her. Opening her eyes, she saw for the first time that she was right. His eyes were blood red. His skin was as pale as her own, but she failed to really see him. His long black hair was swept back into a ponytail. He looked strong, fierce, and masculine like an ancient warrior of legend.

He held out a leather-gloved hand to her. She hesitated, but took it weakly. He swept her into his arms and held her close to protect her from the raging fire. The flames licked at his feet, but he remained stoical and showed no signs of pain. Arachne didn’t know who he was, but…he somehow made her feel strangely at peace, especially in a life-threatening situation as this. His chest was warm and muscled and soft. She coughed a bit more, feeling suddenly exhausted and worn out from life.

He leaped out of the window. Her stomach dropped as they fell down together. She didn’t bother to watch him. She knew that she was safe with him because he was a good guy. Despite his unknown identity.

Eyes drooping with sleep, she collapsed in his arms; she was at ease for the first time in a long time.

 

_____

 

Sirens wailed near; police cars and fire engines sped to a stop in front of the old, burning building. But the building, because of how old it was, had burned almost completely to the ground. Firefighters took action, though. They immediately unrolled their long hoses and began to pump gallons and gallons of water onto the remains of what used to be a nine-story structure built around the eighties.

The thing was bound to burn down one of these days, thought the young adult.

For a minute he gazed hard at the flames that were now extinguished. Some attempted to reset themselves, but the thick moisture of the water quickly doused them. The police, after the fire was safely said to be put out, roped the area off. He could easily hear their conversation, especially from this high up on top of an adjacent brick building.

“…any idea who’d do somethin’ like this?”

“Probably some reckless teens. Out for a drink, felt like burning something.”

The first officer shook his head.

“Typical, typical.”

Another officer approached the other two.

“Actually it might not have been teens. I have reports of witnesses around this area who apparently saw the Black Widow headed towards this building.”

The first officer chortled, doubling over in laughter; the second officer just looked at the third officer disapprovingly.

“T-that…t-hat,” he said in-between fits of laughter, pointing at the third guy, “is some complete bullshit. Complete bullshit! The Black Widow don’t exist. She’s just a damn urban myth. Don’t tell me ya believe that crap?”

The third guy nodded; the first guy cracked up again. The third glared at him, bitterness creeping into his voice.

“There are reports that the Black Widow exists. Pictures and proof. Spider webs and spider silk.”

“Probably just some crazy whack-a-doo who likes playin’ dress-up and toyin’ with our minds,” said the first.

“I’m telling you, she exists!”

Their voices faded as they walked away and got into their cars and drove off.

He looked down at the girl that he had saved from the burning building. She wasn’t hot, but more like a dark beauty; not a label of goth or emo or anything like that, but…something more.

Her pale skin, like his, glowed white in the moonlight; long lashes bordered her eyes; her raven black hair fell over her shoulders and onto the gravel; her full lips were still and soft looking, as pink as a rose petal. She was really attractive, he would admit, but he felt nothing in his heart. He was empty and quiet; a cold stone worn down over time.

He knew who she was. Her name was Willow Halliwell, troubled teen that had suffered at the hands of her father ever since the day she was born, though unknowingly. And at night Willow paraded around as Arachne the Black Widow, catching criminals and bringing justice to those whom rightfully deserved it. He may not have known every single little detail about her personal life, but he knew that she thought herself alone and lonely and dark inside and out. She considered herself a complete freak and blamed herself for her mother’s death. He knew because he was a freak just like her. If you counted having superhuman abilities as freakish.

Taking a last glance down at her lovely face to make sure she was going to be safe, he got off of the ground and prepared to leave. Just as he was about to take off, something wrapped around his ankle and drew him back. Arachne had now opened her eyes and was grasping him by the ankle. Judging by her grip, she wasn’t going to let go without putting up a fight.

“Who are you? Tell me or I won’t let go.”

“Telling you that would place you in some jeopardy. You wouldn’t want that, now would you?” he said calmly, facing away from her. “Let go.”

And she let go. He turned around and knelt beside her on the ground. She was sitting up now, blinking away the last remnants of sleep from her eyes. She narrowed her red-purple eyes at him; he could feel waves of suspicion coming off of her.

“Who are you?”

“I can’t tell you that. Confidential information. Besides if I told you, you would have to die.”

“Right. Why did you save me? What do you want from me?”

“Nice welcome for the guy who just saved your life.”

She glared at him.

“You know,” she growled in his face, “you are really irritating me right now. And believe me, you do not want to do that.”

He blinked once at her, not scared at all by her little threat.

“I could probably beat you up worse than you would me. So…let’s keep the threat in check, now shall we?”

As he stood to leave, he heard a sigh behind him.

“Thank you for…saving my life.”

He turned around and stared down at her with sympathy in his red eyes.

“You’re welcome.”

She motioned to him to come down near her. He bent down on one knee and faced her fully. She blinked and smiled at him with kindness. Placing a hand on his cheek, Arachne leaned in slowly. He felt the hesitation in her action, but she built some confidence in a matter of seconds. He knew that she had poisonous lips due to the Black Widow DNA in her bloodstream. She could be able to have some control over it; he knew she was able to control it this time because she willed herself not to poison him.

My venom’s more deadly than hers. I know.

Then she pecked him tenderly in thanks on the cheek for a few seconds of peace. Her lips were as soft as a rosebud’s; her breath tickled the hairs on his face as she pulled away. He could easily see the gratitude in her eyes.

He nodded at her, standing up and disappearing into the darkness of the night.

Author's Note

In writing the Black Widow, this had to be my most favorite chapter ever. :D