"All right, Major Stryker—let's hear your idea," said Bolivar, extending his right hand to point out a spot for William.
Stryker moved to Bolivar's side, composed himself, and began. "Gentlemen—since this is a war between races, and war inevitably demands sacrifice, then a sacrifice made late is worse than one made early. Only the raw, bloody truth can jolt those sleeping ordinary citizens awake. And once the public's anti-mutant sentiment rises to a certain pitch, the Mutant Exclusion Bill becomes the mainstream view of society. With the people behind it, the lawmakers in Congress will support its passage of their own accord."
There Stryker deliberately stopped. He'd said what needed saying; he trusted everyone present would grasp the rest.
"Indeed—as things stand, mutants simply aren't destructive enough. Mutant riots, people getting hurt—it isn't widespread enough, isn't, mm... isn't eye-catching enough. Gentlemen—what do you all think?" Bolivar spoke first.
"Agreed. Certain sacrifices are necessary," Senator Haydon said with a nod.
"Agreed. No blood, no hatred. No hatred, no momentum," a general answered.
"Agreed. No objections here."
"Agreed."
"Excellent—passed unanimously! William, you've done well. General Sam—how about letting this major come with me and take charge of the mutant-experiment program?" Bolivar turned and asked.
"Fine. Stryker, from now on you're with Dr. Trask. Manage the mutant-experiment facilities properly."
---
Location: Aldrich Psychiatric Hospital, Queens, New York—at the front gate. Time: May 12, 1993, 1:00 p.m.
"I—I thought I'd never see any of you again! Sob—thank you, Madam President! Thank you, you saved my life!"
Maya held a Coke bottle one-handed against Liz's chest, holding off the girl who kept trying to fling herself at her. "Okay, okay! Your face is all snot—don't even think about wiping it on me. And your power will hurt me—huh? The Coke bottle didn't break! Liz, you can control your ability now?"
"Sob—not yet—they gave me a shot, that's why—" Liz hiccuped.
It wasn't really Liz's fault for latching onto President Maya. The other students knew about her power now—and the truth behind the incident that had cost Andrew his manhood too. So they hung back in a wide ring around Liz, pointing and whispering, not daring to come close.
While President Maya soothed Liz and explained her ability to the students, Tony—up on the roof of the triple-decker bus, surveying the scene—suddenly cried out in alarm. "You—what do you want? You've got some nerve—you actually came back to find me?"
Then he bellowed down toward the lower deck, "Happy—Happy—get people over here—"
"Please. Those small-fry minions of yours are useless," Spider-Man said, and gave the thing at his hip a pat.
The instant Tony saw that familiar, thoroughly sci-fi sniper rifle, he cut off mid-shout and waved Happy and the bodyguards away.
Then he backed into a corner of the bus roof and dropped his voice. "Spider-Man, what is it now? Listen to me—do not try anything. There are over a hundred of my bodyguards around here, dozens of police, tens of thousands of my fans. I'm not afraid of you!"
Madam President was out of words. Not afraid, huh? If you're not afraid, then quit hugging yourself and shrinking into the corner like some swooning damsel in a cheap melodrama.
"Boss, it's me! I'm your employee too—a member of the whole Spider-Man family!" Spider-Man Maya teased him with a perfectly straight face.
Tony's mouth twitched. Inwardly he was screaming: Employee my ass, Spider-Man family my ass—I don't have amnesia. Wasn't it you who took me hostage last night? Playing me wasn't enough—you conned me out of five million dollars' worth of diamonds too, you shameless little crook!
"I am not a shameless little crook! And—no need to look so shocked, every thought you've got is written all over your face. When I sold you the sniper rifle, I told you it had an anti-tamper device. I even urged you not to buy it. You're the one who insisted. How is that my fault? Is it my fault I'm too much of a genius—that I designed a safeguard this advanced? My fault that a genius like me soars clean past the limits of your mortal mind?"
And Spider-Man Maya sighed. "The wisdom of mortals can scarcely comprehend my thoughts. Lonely as the snow."
Tony's face went livid. Damn it—in all his years, this was the first time anyone had looked down on his intelligence—and worse, he couldn't get a word out to argue. Because it was true: he genuinely hadn't expected that neural-pulse sniper rifle to be so advanced, apparently rigged with some kind of binding system.
Ah, poor Tony—dragged into another one of Madam President's traps.
Tony pulled in a few deep breaths, forced himself calm, and asked through gritted teeth, "Fine. I'll drop the sniper rifle business, I'll eat the loss. So why did you hack into my supercomputer? And under my name, expose Aldrich's illegal human experiments?"
Maya shot a glance at her real self, still comforting Liz across the way, and answered with an air of pure righteousness. "You said it yourself—that I could still do good in Spider-Man's name. Now, was what I did yesterday a good thing, or wasn't it? Since you're Spider-Man, and I was acting in your name, what's the harm in borrowing your supercomputer?"
Damn it, that actually makes a horrible amount of sense—I don't even know how to argue back!
For the first time in his life Tony felt this beaten, and now his spirits sank. "Fine. We'll draw a line under last night too. Just tell me why you came today—I don't believe you're here to reminisce."
Maya said gravely, "Boss—from the moment you bought the Spider-Man name, every time I pull on this suit, in name I am your employee. A member of the whole Spider-Man family. I am—"
"Enough, enough, I give up, all right? You're Spider-Man, you're the boss—if there's nothing else, just go."
Tony was near collapse. From the looks of it, Spider-Man had latched onto him for good—and from now on, whatever rotten thing Spider-Man got up to, he'd be the one carrying the blame.
"Boss—okay, fine—Mr. Stark!" Seeing that Tony was genuinely about to lose it, Maya switched her tune at once.
"Mr. Stark, rest assured—I'm a hero of justice. I don't do it for money, I don't do it for fame. My heart is set on one thing: contributing to the people of New York. Relax—every cent you gave me, I'll spend on helping others. I won't misuse a single coin on myself!"
Hearing the Spider-Man across from him speak so solemnly, Tony wavered, uncertain. Could it be Spider-Man really was a Captain America-style "saint"—just with more flexible methods, not as rigid as the good captain?
"So you came to me today just to explain all this?"
"No!" Madam President said, in the gravest of tones. "I came to solve the problem of where these mutant children go. We can't just rescue them and call it a day—what happens after is what matters most. I came because I was thinking: shouldn't you establish a mutant shelter, one dedicated to taking in these poor mutant children?"
Realization dawned on Tony. "Oh—you want to use my name, and your own money, to build a mutant youth shelter! Ah, Spider-Man, you really are a good person. I'm ashamed of myself."
"No. Your name, and your money! My money has to stay put—for something far more critical!" Madam President declared, righteous as ever.
Tch, Tony thought, so you really did just come to fleece me after all. Spider-Man—doing this, does your conscience really not ache, even a little?