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laptops, Wi-Fi nodes, and sensory detectors, right in the dead center of the crater. Ben Grimm, the Thing, strained his orange-rock biceps to lift a massive computer system out of the plane.
    The other members of the FF stood watching them: Sue Richards, Reed’s wife, known as the Invisible Woman, and her brother Johnny Storm, the Human Torch. Johnny’s eyes were wide; he almost seemed in shock. Little fires flared on and off, involuntarily, across his arms and shoulders.
    A sudden motion caught Spider-Man’s eye. He turned to see Wolverine, crouched down over by the crater’s far lip. Sniffing the air.
    “…think that’s all the survivors,” Reed said, peering into a screen. “There weren’t too many, this close to the blast.”
    “What…” Johnny stopped, caught himself. “What caused this?”
    “The New Warriors,” Tony replied. “I just watched the footage…it was broadcast remotely to their studio. In the name of ratings , they tried to take down a gang of villains way above their power level.”
    “Well, they paid for it.” Reed was grim. “I read no survivors in the blast zone.”
    “I confirm that,” Wolverine called. “No livin’ scents.”
    “Not even Nitro?” Tony asked. “He set off the explosion.”
    Spidey frowned. “What kind of crook blows himself up, knowing he’ll die along with his victims? Do we have suicide bomber super villains now?”
    Tony turned glowing eye-slits toward Spider-Man for the first time. “If I could ask him, I would. But that doesn’t seem to be an option.”
    “Kids,” Johnny said. He held up a shred of blue-and-gold cloth, a tiny piece of Speedball’s costume. “They were just kids.”
    Spider-Man crossed to Johnny, lay a hand on his old friend’s shoulder. “Matchstick. You okay?”
    But Johnny shrugged him off, grimaced, and burst into flames. He took off, wordless, into the gray-fogged sky.
    Sue grimaced, turned toward the FF’s plane. “I’ll follow him, make sure he’s okay. You can catch a ride home?”
    “Sure,” Reed replied. Their eyes met for a moment in profound, silent understanding.
    Spider-Man found himself wondering: Could I ever be that close to a woman?
    “Reed,” Tony said. “I’m gonna need all the data you can assemble. The Senate hearing is next week…this is the worst possible time for a disaster like this.”
    “Tony,” Spider-Man called. But Iron Man was already in flight, arcing up and out of the crater.
    Spider-Man followed, unsure what to do next, at a slight distance. Behind him, Reed Richards turned to the Thing, began setting up some new piece of machinery.
    Captain America stood just outside the crater, watching the last of the casualties being loaded into an ambulance. Tony touched down next to him. “Cap.”
    Captain America turned slowly toward him.
    “All these children, Tony.” Cap’s voice was hoarse, even deeper than usual. “The FEMA chief said there could be as many as nine hundred casualties. All for a TV show.”
    “They should have called us,” Tony replied. “The New Warriors, I mean. Night Thrasher knew they were out of their league.”
    Cap stared at him for a moment, then turned away. He strode quickly over to an ambulance, began speaking with the driver.
    Spider-Man stepped forward. “Tony,” he repeated. “I’m at your service. Tell me what to do.”
    “There’s nothing to do, Peter—I mean, Spider-Man. Get your tux out of the closet and prepare to be respectful. We’ve got funerals to attend.”
    “But—”
    “This isn’t a crime to be solved, or an adventure, or a villain to be fought. It’s just a tragedy.”
    “Or an opportunity. Right, bub?”
    Wolverine had crept up behind them, silent. His face was hostile, but not with animal savagery. This was something deeper, more personal.
    “You’re headin’ for Washington soon, right? To talk to Congress about the state of superhumans in this country.”
    “That’s right, Logan.”
    “Well, I don’t give a