Dolly-18
(Sorry Readers!!
Actually, due to some external issue, my laptop was damaged badly that it can fold till 360 degree. Later I have to purchase a new laptop so, it took much time for joining this platform.
So, as an apology I will try to mass release the chapter or send 2-3 chapter every two days, till I make up for the leave.
So, hang on to this fan fiction and thank you for your support.
Good thing is that I can now play high graphics games in my new laptop, so I am gonna play WuWa and ZZZ in my free time😊.
Again thank you Readers for the patience.)
<Nick Fury's POV>
I scowled as I reviewed the latest reports on this so-called "Ghost Spider" that had been making headlines across New York. Melinda May stood at the parade rest, waiting for me to finish reading.
"Am I supposed to be impressed by a kid in pyjamas jumping around Queens?" I finally said, tossing the file down. "We've got bigger problems than a two-bit spider vigilante."
"With all due respect, sir," Melinda replied evenly, "the data analysis suggests this Ghost Spider may be more than just another amateur in a silly costume."
She tapped the file, bringing up the video clips of the Ghost Spider's more...unconventional abilities: invisibility, spatial distortions, seeming teleportation, and many more parameters that are distorted at the minimum level.
"Those readings indicate potential reality manipulation, but the level of manipulation is not yet measured," she stated. "Seems like this spider might have a few new tricks up their sleeve beyond flicking webs."
I grunted noncommittally. Looking after kids is not my specialty. But Melinda made a fair point.
"Let's assume for a second that this is legit and not just another overblown urban legend," I said. "We've got larger priorities right now than chasing down one rogue amateur hour."
Melinda arched an eyebrow. "You mean like keeping an eye on a playboy's safety?"
I felt my jaw tighten at her veiled reference to Stark's issues. Howard was a Grade-A pain in my ass half the time. Now I have to deal with his son's problem, but he is a potential candidate for our tech staff.
"Exactly," I stated flatly. "Dividing our focus from asset containment for some tripped-out Spider-Kid isn't an option."
"I understand, sir." Melinda paused precisely. "But we may not have a choice."
With a few deft keystrokes, she brought up a new display, this one showing a very familiar, very unwelcome insignia from an authorization request code.
I felt my eye narrow dangerously. "Pierce..."
Alexander Pierce. "The World Security Council claims that the Ghost Spider represents an 'unacceptable power volatility' that threatens wider operations. They're demanding we allocate resources to neutralise the threat."
I resisted the urge to sweep everything off my desk in frustration. Of course, those ingrates from the World Security Council were sticking their noses in places where they didn't belong again. She is just a kid who happens to come into contact with the supernatural, and it is not necessary to eliminate it.
But as much as I hated being backed into a corner, our SHIELD is under the operation of the World Security Council, and we have to follow their demands and deal with the significant rise in enhanced individuals, dangerous advanced technology, and alien contact.
"...Fine," I bit out, jaw clenched. "We'll handle this anomaly through official channels. But we do it our way."
"Well, I would be expecting that from you." Saying that Pierce went offline.
Melinda met my gaze steadily. "I have the perfect operative candidate in mind..."
Hours later, I observed the young woman through the one-way glass as she deftly navigated the simulated cityscape course, becoming a near-imperceptible flicker of motion that left only shattered concrete in her wake.
Ava Starr: call sign "Ghost." One of our most promising and lethal young agents to come through the Specials program If anyone could hunt down and contain this Spider-Kid quickly and cleanly, it was her.
"You're sure about this one, May?" I asked, arms crossed. "It's a pretty big gamble to throw a rookie operator onto a high-risk spider freak for her first solo mission."
"Agent Starr's abilities are uniquely suited to counter the Ghost Spider's projected threat parameters." Melinda's tone brooked no argument. "Her molecular distortion tech will neutralise any transdimensional frequencies or cosmic energies."
She traced a path on the display as Ava scaled a vertical surface with unnerving ease. "And her phasing cloaking makes her perfect for stealth recon to assess the target before engaging."
"Bold of you to put that much stock in an unknown element," I noted. "For all we know, this Spider-Kid is packing abilities beyond even what we've seen."
"Which is exactly why I'm recommending her." Melinda replied, mouthing a flat line. "The contingencies are already authorised and prepared if it comes to that."
I eyed her sideways for a long moment, then gave a slow nod of acceptance. "Always play it tight to the vest, May. That's why you're still my number two."
She merely inclined her head stoically. On the monitor, Ava emerged from her smoky camouflage, piercing the final target dead-centre with a well-placed pulse bolt.
"...Initiate Operation: Insect Trap," I said grimly.
"But, sir, Spider is classified as an Arachnid." An agent in the background said.
I stared at that person and scolded him in my mind. 'You mother f*cker'
He just normally lowered his head. "Sorry sir."
"Initiate Operation: Spider Trap,"
"Bring this Ghost Spider in by any means necessary and be careful about injuring her to death; we need those individuals."
We have to get that kid anyway, if possible. She has potential for Avenger initiative, but before that, she needs more training and experience.
<Unknown POV>
The sterile laboratory was bathed in pale blue light, the air thick with tension as the team of scientists hovered over the incubation tank. Inside, a naked young woman with long black hair floated in the viscous liquid, her knees tucked up against her chest in a foetal position.
"Vitals are holding steady," one of the lab-coated figures stated clinically, eyes glued to the readouts flickering across the monitor bank. "Cellular regeneration rate is increasing on schedule."
"Excellent," another replied, a hint of excitement tingeing their clipped tone. "And the synaptic integration?"
"Nominal levels are rising. The neural transcription process is nearing full substratal mapping."
A thoughtful murmur rippled through the observation deck. I keyed up a haptic display, studying the cascading bioneural data flooding in from the subject.
"Her genetic matrix certainly is...unique," I observed neutrally. "The incorporation of these exotic plasmid samples from Subject X-98 seems to be initiating a new phase of genomic resequencing."
"Yes, we're in uncharted waters now that the regenerative augmentations have activated," one of my subordinates agreed grimly. "Who knows what sort of...abilities could potentially manifest when it fully metabolises?"
There were many unknowns regarding the mysterious subject designated X-98, from whom this genetic source material was derived. Even the top-level briefings we received from our higher-ups were obfuscated with redactions.
We first thought that X-98 was a failed subject with flawed regeneration as it tends to consume energy to regenerate. But we totally ignored the Dormant X-gene, which manifested in the case of X-98. It's a pity that X-98 was purchased by Oscorp, and they even lost that subject.
All we knew for certain was that X-98 represented a potential key to unlocking newly emerged mutant capabilities, dormant evolutionary outlier traits that could be bred as powerful biological assets. Hence, our mandate is to facilitate live trials with cloned specimens.
Another scientist chimed in, clearly excited. "If this prototype integration is stable, we may have just cracked a pathway to directed mutation expressivity. We could tailor-design the next evolution of enhanced operatives!"
I arched an eyebrow at the exuberant idealism and had to suppress the urge to scoff. Lab purists always got way too caught up in the theoretical applications when we were still in the trial phases.
Merging recombinant strains like the X-Genome with precision molecular encoding was still wildly unpredictable, just as likely to produce a catastrophic freak as a revolutionary success. We'd seen plenty of both already.
"Don't get ahead of yourself," I cautioned pointedly. "We're still a long way off from controlled augmentations or directed mutagenesis."
Appraising the readouts again, I felt a slight curl of distaste. Cloning technology may have advanced by leaps and bounds, but the practice still struck me as supremely unethical—a blasphemous violation of the natural order.
But as always, science bowed to more mercantile incentives. We'd made the Devil's deal for access to this technology, so there was no use waffling on ethical quandries now. Our corporate patrons wanted results from these black-boxed X-samples...whatever the cost.
"Keep monitoring the subject," I instructed tersely. "But be ready to scrub the operation at the first sign of chromosomal rejection or cellular degradation. The last thing we need is another unstable breach like Iteration 17."
"I hope the subject Dolly-18 will be successful."
<Clone's POV>
The viscous liquid surrounded me, cradling my naked form in an artificial womb. I drifted in and out of consciousness, awareness ebbing and flowing like the tide.
At first, there was only an empty void—a black abyss devoid of sensation or cognition. But then...flashes began to manifest. Disjointed glimpses into another's experiences.
A kaleidoscope of blurred images cascaded through my mind's eye. White coats swarming...running...a searing bite...other worlds...faces, names, and knowledge streaming in a torrent I couldn't comprehend.
It was as if I were experiencing someone else's life, their memories becoming ingrained into the very fibre of my being.
Slowly, through the maelstrom, pieces started clicking into place. I could sense the threads connecting me to...her. The one whose experiences I was absorbing - Alice.
With each passing cycle of sleep and half-wakefulness, my consciousness expanded. I became self-aware, cognizant that I was a subsidiary construct tethered to Alice's existence.
A clone, grown from her DNA and imbued with a fragmented duplicate of her totality. Why? For what purpose?
The muffled voices beyond the chamber walls provided no answers, only clinical observations and notations. I was an experiment, a living test study to be monitored and analysed.
But I could feel my evolution accelerating as the downloads saturated my neural pathways. My mind expanded, continuously updated with new data extrapolated from the vast well that was Alice's complete existence.
I understood that I was not just some empty husk; I was a mirror, a focused shard splintered off from the prism that contained every iota of Alice's being. And just as I could access her essence, our connection meant she would eventually become aware of me too.
My eyes slipped open, glowing faintly with newfound purpose. I stared out through the bubbling stasis tank, my gaze locking onto some resonant frequency far beyond this stark chamber.
Somewhere out there, Alice was going about her life. I cannot sense her anymore because she has blocked her gene ability. But not for long; my awakening is near. I hope we will meet soon, Alice.
(Next chapter might be published today.)