Civil War Prose Novel Read Online Free PDF Page A

creaked and lurched.
    “There’s a kid trapped inside,” Daredevil said. “Back me up?”
    “Always.”
    Daredevil grabbed at a window latch, tried to pull it open. Locked. Spider-Man tapped him on the shoulder, then—concentrating—reached out with one of the tentacles protruding from his costume’s back. The tentacle quavered before the window, then rapped it hard, just once. The glass shattered.
    Daredevil turned to him. “Where’d you get the suit?”
    “Fellow named Anthony Stark built it for me. Perhaps you’ve heard of him?”
    Daredevil frowned, his mouth grim beneath his red cowl. Then he turned and dove into the building.
    Spider-Man shrugged and followed, using his tentacles to sweep away the glass remaining in the frame.
    The office was bare, quiet. No power; computers sat dark on a pair of paper-strewn desks. “You know where this kid is?” Spider-Man asked.
    But Daredevil was concentrating, sending his radar sense fanning out through the floor. He pointed toward the door, and again Spidey followed.
    “Matt. How you doing, anyway? I know that whole identity thing’s been a strain for you.”
    Daredevil didn’t answer right away. Six months ago, a tabloid paper with organized crime connections had outed his secret identity, revealing him publicly as Matt Murdock, crusading attorney. This had led to a flood of civil suits and public harassment. Matt had made the risky decision to deny everything, to publicly swear he was not Daredevil—which, of course, was a lie. Spider-Man wasn’t sure he agreed with his friend’s decision; the morality seemed pretty murky. But Matt had made a persuasive case that it was his only workable option.
    “I’m all right,” Daredevil said. He didn’t sound convincing. “Hey. Hey there!”
    In a room full of cubicles, a seven-year-old girl sat cowering on the floor against a barrier. The building lurched, and she whimpered.
    Then she saw Spider-Man, and screamed.
    Guess not everyone’s used to the new look, he thought.
    “Let me get this one,” Daredevil said.
    Five minutes later, they were back down on the ground. Daredevil handed the girl over to her mother, while a brace of cops watched carefully. The woman cast suspicious eyes across Daredevil, then Spider-Man. Then she took off at a run.
    “Gratitude,” Spidey said.
    Daredevil turned back to him. “Do you blame her, after what happened today?”
    “I don’t know what happened today.”
    “It’s bad, Peter. For all of us.”
    Spider-Man frowned. “Can I get a tiny little clue here?”
    “I’m talking about the Superhuman Registration Act.”
    Spidey shrugged helplessly. With both arms and four tentacles.
    Daredevil shot a look upward, and Spider-Man followed his gaze. The red-and-gold figure of Iron Man streaked by, headed for Ground Zero.
    “Ask your new BFF,” Daredevil continued.
    When Spidey looked down, Matt was gone.
     
    SWINGING over the barricade proved no problem. A cop yelled up at Spider-Man once, halfheartedly, then returned to his duties. The Stamford police had more than enough to deal with today.
    Inside the barricade, the streets turned quickly to chaos. Some houses had collapsed inward; others lay fallen under piles of rubble. Emergency crews bustled all around, transferring the dead and injured to ambulances or, where the roads were too rough, to hastily outfitted Jeeps.
    And the sky…the sky was filled with ash, with a gray haze. The sun shone through weakly, casting no shadows, a dull red orb barely visible through the cloud of dust.
    A flutter of wings caught Spider-Man’s attention. The Falcon, a muscular black man costumed in red and white, fluttered downward a block away. Spidey followed his descent and spotted Captain America, in full costume, speaking with a couple of medics.
    Cap and the Falcon had been partners, off and on, for years. They exchanged a few terse words—Spidey was too far away to hear—and then set off at a run toward a still-smoking