Chapter 62: Welcome to Murder World Part Two

Chapter Sixty Two: Welcome to Murder World Part Two.

“Slide that around and solved,” thought Spider-Man as he had solved the third logic puzzle and they all lit up, before the door opened. His spider sense started to blare insanely and he threw himself through the door. Just as his feet left the platform, it finally slid down into the deep pit. “Close call.”

“Level six cleared,” announced Arcade. “Give you a pat on the back Spider-Man but you can't breath easily. Quite literally perhaps, as this level, you have to reach the top of this room by scaling up to the hole in the ceiling.”

“I simply have to climb up there,” said Spider-Man as he turned around as he surveyed the area. “No problem.”

“Yes, but you can't climb the walls, I've lubricated them so you won't be able to stick to them for more than a split second,” explained Arcade. “You're going to have to jump the platforms.”

“Really, those things, no sweat,” said Spider-Man in a confident voice as he eyed the platforms, seemed easy enough, but suddenly, the platforms began to spin completely and a rotating force field appeared at the very top of the hole. “Okay maybe a little bit of sweat.”

“Now you've seen what is ahead of you but one more thing, to make things a bit more fun and interesting,” said Arcade which caused Spider-Man to shudder. Something that was fun and interesting in the hands of this lunatic appeared to be bad news. “All of the oxygen is slowly being pumped out of this room. I say that you have about five minutes before you are in big trouble and that's only if you take really small breaths.”

Spider-Man just blocked Arcade's words from his mind and focused at the task at hand. There only appeared to be a small amount of time for him to do his task and he watched as the first platform continued to rotate around him and he bent his knees and threw himself right at the platform. He grabbed onto it and pulled himself up, as the platforms began to speed up and spin, several times in a period of approximately fifteen seconds. It was very hard to stay on the single platform and there was only a small fraction of a second that Spider-Man had where the platforms were within jumping distance.

To make matters worse, they really seemed to get faster and faster. That was going to be a bit of a problem.

Okay, a really big problem.

There was no choice but Spider-Man jumped and just managed to get the platform, nearly being flung off but he steadied himself and looked carefully. The only way to the next platform appeared to be a really tall ladder that really had no time and it took some time for him to get his footing as the platforms continued to rotate. Conserving his breath as much as he could, Spider-Man gave himself a nice leap.

He just barely grasped onto the ladder but suddenly, the moment he grabbed it began to disengage.

“Great just great,” thought Spider-Man as he managed to climb up the ladder as it slid to the ground and he just grabbed onto the platform and he heard a clatter of the ladder. “Close Spidey, airs seems light, you don't have much time.”

Spider-Man stood in the platform as the structure began to speed up and he found that the platform that he was standing on had began to attract giving him less room to stand and to make matters worse, he was moments away from being flung off to his doom but he managed to jump to the next platform just before the other one had completely slid out from underneath his feet. He landed hard on the platform forcing an unnatural amount of pressure on his right knee, and clutched his knee, but he had made it to the platform.

He could not even let out the breath he had due to the decreasing oxygen but he suddenly felt the platform beneath his feet.

It was vibrating.

The vibrations were causing it to crumble to dust.

He had only seconds before he could leap.

To time a jump that was exactly right.

With no room for error. Absolutely none at all.

Through an impressive array of acrobatics and just a little bit of luck, Spider-Man stuck the jump completely, landing on the next platform which seemed to be steady and did not seem to retract.

“Straight shoot to the top,” thought Spider-Man in a dazed voice, as he felt his knees weakened. “Can barely breathe. Might only have a minute for all I know, maybe less...no time Spider-Man. You have to leap just right. And really just right. One shot and...well its going to be messy.”

Spinning at an accelerated rate above a hole with the smallest margin for error possible did not do anything to help the situation. Especially considering the fact that the oxygen was severely depleting.

It was do or die. Now or never, all or nothing for Spider-Man. He closed his eyes, held his breath, and jumped.

Time seemed to slow down to an unbearable crawl for the next few minutes.

Yet he managed to do it. He managed to pass the hole.

He almost could feel the lasers nipping at his heels.

It was a close call. All too close of a call.

Spider-Man found himself, staggered, dazed, and not to mention all too queasy as he was in a lobby area. His stomach was turning about a million different directions and he doubted that any one of them were anything close to good.

“You have cleared level seven, you're getting to the point where only two percent have made it to this point,” said Arcade as he paused as Spider-Man slowly pulled his mask off. “There is a garbage can to your right if you wish to get sick. Please do not get sick on my floor. I just had it carpeted. Thank you.”

Had he been in a bit more sound of mind, not dazed or confused, about ready to lose his lunch, he would not even listen to the advice of the super villain trying to kill him.

He opened up the garbage can. His spider sense went into overdrive.

A split second before he was gassed. Spider-Man's legs crumpled and he fell on the floor.

Two henchmen walked over and picked up Spider-Man to manually transport him to the next level.

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“Well this is it, the end, of course,” said Miss Locke as she watched Spider-Man being dragged outside of the doors.

“Perhaps, perhaps, but perhaps not,” said Arcade skeptically but he watched in anticipation.

“Level Eight is unwinnable you said,” said Miss Locke. “I say that Spider-Man was rather lucky to even survive that last level. He should have been sliced into ribbons at the top of the spiral.”

“There is always a first time for everything, but its exceptional that Spider-Man has made it this far, with all of the handicaps,” said Arcade with glee. He was almost looking forward to Level Eight. Only the best of the best had ever reached that point of Murderworld. Perhaps Spider-Man could break the that tradition.”

“It is almost like you want Spider-Man to succeed,” muttered Miss Locke as she shook her heads.

“Call it a morbid curiosity if you must, but I wish to see the ninth level in action, if the web slinger can even figure it out,” said Arcade. “It appears that the web slinger is coming to. The game is afoot.”

XXXXX-XXXXX

Spider-Man pulled himself to his feet, dazed.

“That's the last time I open a conveniently placed trash can,” thought Spider-Man as he shook his head from one side to the other in an attempt to clear the cobwebs.

“Spider-Man, you have reached level eight, a level that less than two percent have reached and approximately zero percent have survived,” announced Arcade with glee. “To win this level, you have to get across the room without dying. Across the room are dozens upon dozens of traps, triggered in different ways. Should be a blast.”

“And you're going to do something to make it more fun,” dead panned Spider-Man as he stood tense.

“You've finally caught on to the game,” cheered Arcade and suddenly the room went completely pitch black. “You have to make it across the room in the dark. Does make it clear why no one has survived this level ever, doesn't it?”

Spider-Man braced himself, as he tried to block out all of his senses. If he had any hope of getting across the room without dying, he had to rely on his spider sense and his spider sense alone.

He rushed into the room and ducked and dodged.

To the right to avoid a threat.

Spider sense blares again. Duck down and jump to the left, then slightly backwards, and then swing up.

A flaming razor sharp spear flashes. Ducked narrowly. Rolled around at avoid traps. Dodged around several more attacks.

Leap to the right.

Leap to the left.

Spider sense.

To the right again.

Jumped up.

Couched down.

To the right once again.

Spider sense is going nuts. Duck, dodge, crouch, and roll.

Duck around and go diagonal.

A few feet to the left and then give a leap forward. Dodge and avoid every single pratfall in the way.

Get smashed in the ribs. Not lethal but it hurts. A lot.

Slide underneath a threat and keep to the ground, crawling until the spider sense died down.

To the right slightly again.

Forward and then diagonal.

Avoid a barrage of traps. Slight pain but a very narrow miss. Could have been lethal.

Somersault around and avoid another attack.

Smash forward, barely avoiding falling into another trap.

Feel a switch. No spider sense. No danger.

Pull switch.

Spider-Man fell out of the room, as he began to breath heavily, as he saw his costume was slightly burned and torn in places, with a bit of blood dripping from a small cut on his arm. Other than that he was alive.

There was a small pause and Spider-Man just stood the game.

“Okay, Arcade, I've done it!” shouted Spider-Man and there was another pause, as if Arcade had been struck dumb, but only for a second.

“Level Eight...is cleared,” said Arcade in astonishment. “I had entertained myself with the possibility that it might be done but...Murderworld history. Its down to this one Spider-Man. The final level. The one that you have to clear right now.”

Suddenly the floor lowered, to reveal that it was a lift down to another area and it deposited Spider-Man to the ground where he was in front of a giant maze.

“Get to the center of the maze, Spider-Man,” said Arcade simply. “There is a bomb in the center. Pull the shut off switch before the bomb blows you to smithereens.”

“While encountering all sorts of traps, and tricks, you know to make it fun,” said Spider-Man dryly.

“Not this time,” said Arcade. “You have two minutes.”

“Two minutes?” asked Spider-Man as he wondered if it would be able to even clear the maze in time.

“The clock is ticking Spider-Man,” said Arcade and Spider-Man wasted no time as he bolted into the maze.

“There's no way I can make it through in time,” thought Spider-Man. “Can that attitude, you've got to find your way through the center of the maze. Let's see, this should be simple. Do what you did in the last level. Right, left, right, left, straight, turn to the right, right, right, another right, now a left, three doors, taken the third one. Don't have much time left, let's see, right, right, right, right, another right, a left, straight through the hallway, take a right, take a...”

There was a loud thud as Spider-Man found himself smashed right into a solid wall. He could hear the ticking of the bomb on the other side and he tried to smash his way through the wall but it was reenforced. He reared back and tried to jump the wall but he could not make it.

“Thirty seconds, Spider-Man!” announced Arcade as Spider-Man began to sweat, stomach tensed up, as he rushed the wall, in an attempt to scale it.

“Can't break through, can't jump the wall, too high, can't climb it,” thought Spider-Man as he scrambled up the wall but he slid down. “Can't use my webbing either, because...the chemical.”

Spider-Man quickly removed his spare web cartridges from his belt and opened them, before he flung them right into the wall. They burst into flames and began to burn a hole through the wall. The web slinger slid into the center of the match and switched off the bomb, just as the countdown timer was going from one to zero.

Spider-Man let out a very pained sigh of relief. His head was thumping relying on his spider sense so much.

“Okay, I've beaten your stupid game!” shouted Spider-Man when he caught his breath. “All nine levels. Now its time for us to go toe to toe.”

Several view screens appeared and the face of Arcade appeared, as Spider-Man saw him of all his glory.

“Nine levels and you've done it,” said Arcade impressed. “You've completed Murderworld. Consider yourself among the absolute elite.”

Spider-Man moved his way forward, to a set of doors, as he heard the voice of Arcade getting closer, not really paying much attention to what he was saying.

“Just wait until I get these doors open,” grunted Spider-Man as he pushed, but he opened the door, to reveal an empty control room but then the laughter of Arcade echoed throughout

“Tough luck for you Spider-Man, I've left since the moment you were put here, I've been safely enjoying your progress from the other side of the Atlantic,” said Arcade smugly, with a look that Spider-Man wanted to wipe off his face. “The Master Planner won't be pleased that his million went to waste, but he should have read the fine print. No refunds.”

“The Master Planner so he was the one who hired you?” demanded Spider-Man quickly and Arcade nodded. “Who he is?”

“He didn't exactly leave his personal information I wouldn't tell you if I did know, confidentiality clauses,” stated Arcade. “You know, I do hope one day someone else hires me to attempt to kill you Spider-Man. I relish the opportunity to design nine more levels, even more challenging than before but sequels seldom live up to the original.”

Arcade just chuckled.

“Have a nice day, Spider-Man, its been a pleasure trying to murder you and thank you for playing,” said Arcade as the screen went blank and the doors opened, as Spider-Man made his way to the outside world, the shackle on his ankle coming undone.

“That was not fun at all and not to mention I didn't fight who was behind this,” thought Spider-Man as he moved. “I am so late its not even funny. Still at least I know that the Master Planner is nervous about me, if he paid this guy to try and kill me. Anyway, now for the fun part. Explaining why I'm almost two hours late.”

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“Almost two hours and when we do get our food, it was burned,” said Gwen as she threw her hands into the air and she turned to Harry. “I thought you said this place was supposed to be good.”

“I did?” asked Harry but then he recalled. “Must have gotten a bad turnover. Something about a change in management. At least that what I got out the chef's broken English.”

“He said it was his first day,” said Liz with a shrug.

“In the country?” asked Harry with raised eyebrows and the others just really shrugged but Harry just looked up to see an approaching figure. “Well, look who decided to show up,”

“Hi Liz, Harry, Gwen,” said Peter, as Gwen just rushed forward in relief and hugged Peter. He whispered so only Gwen could hear him. “Gwen easy on the ribs, please, I dinged them up pretty bad.”

“Sorry,” muttered Gwen as she gave him a quick kiss. “Where were you?”

“Something with the Bugle, probably,” said Harry. “Takes work more seriously. Dad would approve, that's a good thing.”

“Yeah, Bugle, Jameson wanted pictures of a theme park where a lot of people died,” said Peter quickly, deciding that a slightly exaggerated version of the truth.

“That's awful,” gasped Liz.

“What was it called?” asked Gwen suspiciously.

“Murderworld,” said Peter and Gwen turned away, to slightly hide a mixture of exasperation and relief.

“Well you can't fault them for truth in advertisement,” said Harry with a shrug. “I mean, people die at a place called Murderworld. That's what you expect from a place like that.”

“People did die though,” said Gwen. “I'm surprised that Jameson let you in. What if you never really got out alive?”

“Relax, I knew what I was doing,” said Peter with a slightly strained smile as he disguised the limp that he was now sporting. The adrenaline had worn off and now all of the aches and pains that went with the rigors of being a costumed hero had returned. “So, I guess I missed a good meal.”

“Bad guess, Pete, the food was lousy, took almost as long as you did to get our order and they messed it up,” said Harry. “Well see you around, or maybe not knowing you. Still got to remain optimistic.”

“Yeah its getting late, we better go,” said Liz. “Bye Peter, Gwen.”

“Yeah good bye,” said Peter.

“Bye,” said Gwen as she looked at Peter with a searching look as she waited for Liz and Harry to drive off. “Murderworld, Peter?”

“I've taken you've heard of it,” said Peter and Gwen just nodded, with a slight frown.

“I saw something about it on the Internet a while back when I was doing research, apparently some International assassin is running the thing, for high priced clients, didn't really offer that much more than that,” said Gwen. “Oh and its supposed to be a high end operation designed to make sure the person never got out alive.”

“Gwen, I swear, sometimes, you're too smart for your own good or rather my own good I guess,” said Peter and Gwen just gave a strained smile at Peter's backhanded compliment. “And for the record I'm the first person who survived that place.”

“Peter, I don't know whether to be proud that you actually managed to survive that place or horrified that you almost got yourself killed,” said Gwen.

“I would go with proud myself, trust me, my bruises have bruises,” said Peter and Gwen just shook her head. “It was the ever mysterious Master Planner who paid Arcade to put me through the torment.”

“Did you have any idea who he is?” asked Gwen.

“Well I the only thing I've figured that he does have some kind of master plan,” said Peter.

“Wow,” said Gwen dryly. “And that joke was almost funny the first time you told it. It ceased to be soon after. Seriously, any idea who might be doing this.”

“Well yeah, I could make a list of the people who would want to kill me,” said Peter. “Be an interesting way to kill an afternoon.”

“Must you make light of this?” asked Gwen.

“The only way I can keep sane, I'm taking the Master Planner very seriously, whoever he is and whatever his...master plan is,” said Peter. “I won't rest until I figure this out.”

“I know and that's what worries me,” said Gwen, as she looked Peter right in the eyes. “At least this is the worst thing that can happen tonight.”

“Way, to tempt fate, Gwen,” muttered Peter shaking his head as the two walked through the city, at the twilight of the night.

XXXXX-XXXXX

Around this time, all of the programming on the major networks on television were interrupted, for a major announcement.

“My fellow Americans, it is with great honor that I finally bring to you the bill that I spearheaded,” announced Senator Robert Kelly. “It a sweeping victory for humanity, the Mutant Registration Act has been passed by a significant margin. This is a brave and bold step for humanity. They will no longer fear the reprisal of mutants as they will learn that they are not above the law. Our children may sleep safely and soundly in their beds to know that from this day forward, mutants will either comply or be arrested.”

“Those were the bold worlds of Robert Kelly, New York Senator just today,” said the newscaster. “Kelly has been one of the most outspoken advocates for mutant registration. The act is now law as of midnight tonight and all mutants will be required to register their powers with the government and be subjected to tracking. Any movement would be monitored and those mutants who use their powers to threaten humanity will be subjected to extreme punishment. All mutants are required to report to state officials for information on when they must register. Any mutant who fails to be in compliance with this act will be arrested. The grisly incident in New York City months prior, where a team of mutants fired upon a city block with civilians has been etched in the minds of many. A situation of fear will be reversed and many are positive that this will bring about a peaceful resolution for all of humanity. One such citizen spoke out today, prominent New York City businessman Norman Osborn had this to say.”

“In recent weeks I have worked closely with the government and given the studies about mutant aggression in this country, the fact that such a problem has gone unnoticed and unchecked for this long is quite unnerving,” said Osborn in a cool and collected tone of voice. “As a father, a businessman, and an American citizen, I feel I must contribute to one of the largest looming threats. Mutants will overrun us if they are not kept in check. Therefore, I feel pleased to work with the Mutant Response Division in construction a state of the art facility to imprison rogue mutants who do not comply with the Mutant Registration Act. Oscorp has been working around the clock and now has the Act is in law, my company has put in overtime. Many new jobs have been created with both building and eventually maintaining the facility. The fugitive mutants currently held at the Ravencroft Institute for the Mentally Insane at the lower levels will be moved. Past performance indicates that security is far from adequate at that facility.”

Osborn paused for a moment.

“I do this not to victimize mutants as many might mistakenly think but to rather help humans,” said Osborn. “Since we do not have powers, mutants have us at their mercy. Mutants have none. I can play the same game if they so desire. My mind is clear and Oscorp will do its part to contain any who think that they can exert their power over us. You are not too powerful to be contained.”

“MRD officers are said to be deployed to the New York area and will be in position to strike in the event mutants make their retaliation for the Mutant Response Act,” said the newscaster. “We will have more information for you as we receive it.”

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“Please show these final gentleman to the exit,” said Osborn to his security, as they moved towards the film crews. “I have work.”

Osborn was left alone with Donald Menken.

“What are your plans for this facility, Mr. Osborn?” asked Menken.

“That is on a need to know basis, Menken,” replied Osborn crisply. “I will tell you when there is something that you need to do. You have other projects that I require you to oversee. Go home for this evening, I will give you instructions first thing in the morning.”

“Certainly you must require all hands on deck, Mr. Osborn,” prodded Menken. “Perhaps I could be of some assistance...”

“Menken, you've been loyal to this company for years, but it has been taken care of and no assistance is required,” replied Osborn. “Your job is not is not in peril, providing you follow my orders and not second guess me ever again. Trust me, I have everything well in hand. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” said Menken in a flat tone of voice as his hand tightened briefly around the handle of his briefcase.

“I knew you'd understand, now you may go home and get some sleep,” said Osborn. “With your schedule, you'll need it.”

Menken nodded and he left the office. Osborn sat back, to continue to work late into the night or rather early into the morning.

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In the parking garage at Oscorp, Menken had a cell phone.

“Osborn seems to not be willing to let even his most senior employee in on these plans,” said Menken as he slid into his car. “They are at Ravencroft, but I suspect you found out on television for the rest of the world. For a supposed genius, Osborn doesn't seem to be too bright in keeping things secret.”

“Osborn, I wish to know more and I may yet want a DNA sample from him,” said a voice from the other end of the phone. “This may settle your debt with me, Mystique.”

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