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Spider-Man 2114	By : Ksennin Category: Marvel Verse Comics > Spiderman Views: 11740 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I own neither the characters of the Spider-Man franchise or the Spicy City series. I make no money from publishing this work.

Chapter List
- 1-Spider-Man 2114
- 2-Chapter 2
- 3-Chapter 3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9
- 5
- 6
- 7
The hover-car had taken them to their destination fast and smooth; a mean feat, given how far a distance it was from their office to the skyplex they ended up at. The hover-car and chauffeur had been cleared for priority airspace. Moreover, Virus had watched the driver brazenly buzz past speed traps and police terminals without so much as a flash of blue. Whoever had invited them, the police knew better than to bother.
From the outside, the skyplex was the Gardens of Versailles, finally with so much money behind them that they could buy off gravity. Ivory walls hung in the sky, greenery creeping over them in geometry as precise as a Hollywood braid.
The hover-car set down, the chauffeur got out. His mask as concealing as ever, he led the two women inside, where even the vague futurism of hover-technology gave way to entirely old-school grandeur.
Holo-windows looked out, not into the sky, but a quaint English countryside. And though a real fireplace would drive insurance through the roof, a holographic facsimile provided a bonfire, holding to one section of the wall like it’d just escaped, but could never quite manage to consume the whole of its hunger.
Before the flames—the one and entirely adequate source of illumination for the vast room—an antique chair was situated as precisely as if it’d been carved there. The back was so high that but for the ringed hand on the arm, it would’ve been impossible to tell if it was occupied at all.
The hand dangled off the arm diffidently, and the chauffeur stopped. Something of his presence compelled Nisa and Virus to stop with him. They heard a click from within the chair. The holographic flame became a woman instead.
Her simple dress was well-made enough to flatter her, but flattery was entirely unnecessary. There was a flow to her—a painting created by a master draftsman, without wasted effort or a redone stroke. Just a flow of inspiration from her piercing eyes to her high cheekbones, down her graceful neck, the same elegant brushstrokes continuing even into the lustful curvature of her breasts and hips, and the long enigmatic stride of her slender legs.
Seeing her, Virus elbowed Nisa in the ribs and gave her a grin. All that didn’t need to be said.
“Beautiful,” said Mr. Flaxen in a reedy accent, imported from a microcosm society, one of the enclaves of the super-rich seeking to preserve themselves from the ravages of society. His voice was odd because it was untouched by Spanish, by Chinese, by slang or inflections not found in Received Pronunciation classroom.
He continued, the same clipped tone, as quick and merciless as money changing hands. “Kidnapped. Get her back.”
“Elaborate,” Virus replied.
“Terrorists from the lower levels,” he elaborated. “Lower even than my reach. I understand that they are not so low that you cannot find her. Bring her back.” His tone had returned to that of terse command upon the last sentence. It was not to be mistaken for a request.
“Who is she?” Nisa asked, breaking off from Virus to approach the chair from the other side. She didn’t see his other hand upon the armrest, just an elbow in a well-lined sleeve.
“My daughter. Melissa.”
“Has there been any ransom demand?”
Nisa asked the questions. Virus watched. Saw the well-manicured hand wrap itself around its golden rings. A fist. “If there were, it would’ve been met.”
“Then how do you know she hasn’t run away?” Virus interjected. Eyes on the hologram. “She looks… young.”
“She wouldn’t do that,” Mr. Flaxen insisted. Same commanding tone. Like he was giving an order to history itself. “I’m too important to her.”
Virus piled on. “Just what kind of daddy were you to her?”
Nisa was quick to backtrack. “What Vi means to ask is what was your relationship like? Acrimonious? Fractured?”
The fist was as tight and implacable as a moon stuck in its orbit. “Our relationship was in perfect order. She was taken. You will find her.”
Virus shifted on her heels. “We’ll need her sequence then.”
“My manservant has prepared a detailed file. It has retinal scans, fingerprints—“
“All of that can be changed,” Nisa said apologetically. “But not her DNA. It’ll let us know—when we find her—that she’s the real deal.”
“I wasn’t aware such extreme measures would be necessary. Do you usually fail at reappropriating the proper article?”
“We also find who we’re looking for,” Virus said, unapologetically. “Even when they don’t want to be found.”
The fist unclenched. Became a finger tapping, idly probing, at the armrest. “A partial sequence is on file. It will be sent to you, along with details from the preliminary investigation. More reputable detectives were contacted before a specialist referred me to you.”
Nisa gave Virus the nod. Let’s get out of here. Virus ignored it. “And how much did you pay our more reputable colleagues?”
Mr. Flaxen sighed. “You will be given triple your usual fee, plus five thousand upfront for expenses. Does that negate your love of haggling?”
“Amply,” Virus replied. She gave Nisa her nod. Now we can leave.
“It will not be necessary for me to hear from you again before you’ve found her. You won’t waste my money. Farewell, ladies.”
“Leave the light on for us,” Virus told him, in parting.
***
“A missing persons case?” Peter asked. “You don’t have to find out who shot Clinton or anything?”
Virus nipped at Nisa’s inner thigh one last time. “With this money floating around, you can bet it’ll be more complicated than her taking a wrong turn at Albuquerque. And if the Lowers are involved, we could use your help. You patrol down there. You have your ear to the ground.”
“So you want me to help you find a missing girl. That’s it? What’s the catch?”
“You have to let us fuck you.”
Peter finally smiled. “I can live with that.”
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Spider-Man 2114