Rekindle
Chapter 1
"Rekindle"
[Manhattan, New York. Mid 2028]
[The Bar with No Name]
Ben Grimm, a former pilot for NASA and USAF, mulling over his afflicted mutation, the process that rendered him a monster.
Susan and Reed or even Johnny might have encouraged him to look at the positives, but that was easy for them; their entire body didn’t turn into stone.
He can’t live normally like others; his physical properties and societal perception wouldn’t allow it. There’s a fine line between having superpowers but still looking humans, and straight up turning into an alien.
Let’s say that the public wasn’t too kind about the latter. At least they left him alone in public, some out of sympathy and maybe a bit of pity but most feared him.
Standing at 7 feet tall with all his skin turned into ‘bio-silica’ as Reed and Spidey put it, it gives him a superior durability than those of Luke Cage and strength to rival the Power Man as well; at least initially. Reed estimated earlier that his strengths can grow even more if he keeps improving them.
But that’s the catch.
He didn’t want to. He wants to return to be Ben Grimm, just Ben Grimm.
Not this…thing.
It has been months since then, almost a year if he were to guess, not that the passage of time will do anything good. He’s thankful for the suits and special treatment he got, making his life a bit easier, but it was just going with the flow when he wanted them to break the chain.
Some kids wanted to take selfies with him, and some drunks wanted to test their knuckles against a living and walking stonewall for some reason. It made him feel like a circus spectacle and want to hole up inside the Baxter.
But he can’t live like that, he must get out and keep going like everyone else.
That’s how he found himself here, the one club that is somewhat tolerant of superpowered individuals; the Bar with No Name, he finds that name ironically funny.
“Rough night?” a Canadian at his side asks, Ben looked over and noted distinctive features of the short and stocky man on the stool to his right; wild and windswept hair kept like eagle wings, thick and dark beard as well as sideburns covered his face and framing it in a way that rendered the man beneath intimidating as well as calming simultaneously.
A whiff of air tells him about the smoking choice of the man, cigar, a kindred spirit.
“You could say that.” Ben grumbled through his deep and groveling voice, taking another swig of lager down his throat and letting out a sigh of relief. “Who knows being a rock is hard, eh?” Ben joked and heard the man let out a snort at the lame pun.
“Yorkers are funny bunches?” the Canadian inquired while downing a double shot of vodka like drinking a glass of tap water; Ben pursed his stone lips impressively at the level of alcoholism he saw.
“Can you blame us? Every two months or so there’ll be some crazy motherfuckers wanted to do something evil or stupid, it should be a default mindset for living on the island at this point.” Ben commented with a shrug and the man nodded his head a little in agreement.
“Ben Grimm,” he offered a hand, and it took the Canadian about half a minute of consideration before he replied in kind.
“Logan,” the surprisingly smooth voice for a smoker introduced himself.
Ben was just now able to discern the extraordinary things about Logan; his arms were huge, at least two times wider than Spidey’s, his height was around 5 ft 4 inches of pure muscles, and almost non-existent fat. And that grip strength was not normal, at least on par with himself currently.
“You’re a meta, too?” he inquired with curiosity, trying to see visual distinction anywhere other than the obnoxious amount of body hair and the amber hue of the man’s irises.
“Meta?” a genuine confusion laced within the question.
“Superpowered human.”
Logan snorted with a shake of his head but refused to elaborate further. “I’ve been many things, but I’m not meta.”
Ben ordered a bottle of vodka from the bartender and shared half the bottle with Logan, talking occasionally and even got a cigar from the wild man as a gift.
“What brings you here, Logan, if you don’t mind me asking?” Ben noted that Logan didn’t even look intoxicated despite the comatose-inducing amount of alcohol in his system. He sees Logan stiffened a bit but then shrugged his shoulders.
“Looking for someone,” the short Canadian popped some fruits into his mouth and lounged back against the cushion of the alcove they’d relocated to. “She’s an old friend, just wanna reconnect, I guess.” The nonchalant façade betrayed hidden reasons, but Ben learned to observe rather than demand.
“High school sweetheart?” Ben teased with attentive eyes, noting the shifts in the hairy man’s face and posture.
“Nah. More like…what were the kids call it…frenemy? Yeah. Frenemy.” Logan nodded along with his explanation.
“You sounded too old for a thirty-something guy, Logan,” Ben commented with a cackle.
“Try living among teenagers and kids for years, man, and you’d feel like a retired vet too.” Logan retorted with a smirk and swigged another shot of vodka down like a champ; his eyes showed a glint of joy and pride when mentioning them. Both enjoy the slow night with conversations, Ben finds out that Logan was also a veteran military like himself, so the direction turns into reminiscing their service years and shenanigans each has been a part of with their fellow brothers. But Logan’s tales sounded a bit vague and peculiar in some respects; maybe because Logan was in the Army and himself was in the Air Force?
“…yeah, this one time I had to pull a crazy maneuver just so that we didn’t clash with one another midair, that motherfucker was too lucky for his own good,” Ben goes on, but noticing the shifted attention of Logan. He follows the wild man’s gaze and sees a regular man dressed in a shirt approaching the bar to order a drink, a normal thing in a bar.
“Them crazy boys, eh?” Logan half-assed replied and made for a stand, looking back to the stone giant, “I gotta bail, something comes up.” He fished out his, very vintage, leather wallet and started counting the bills but Ben raised a hand to stop him.
“I got it, Logan,” Ben nods with a smirk at the Canadian’s quirked eyebrow “Consider it a welcome to Manhattan gift.” At that, Ben saw Logan’s body relax a little and he stashed the old wallet back into his jeans pocket, shooting forward his thick hand for a parting handshake.
“Thanks,”
“Good luck with your frenemy,” Logan snorted a little at that but gave him a nod.
Ben keeps his eyes on the short man walking toward the bar to inform the bartender about the payment while pointing at him; and if his eyes catch it right, Logan also sniffs the air around him like a predator hunting its prey. He readied to spring into action if the man decided to do something, but he just got out of the bar not long after.
As Ben was about to make a payment at the bar, a man approached him from his left side with a corporate smile and a bland face you could see anywhere, a façade of a generic businessman in a shirt and a pair of black slacks. “Can I help you?” the stone giant inquired as the man looked at him like a showcase statue.
“Apologies, Mister Grimm,” the businessman replied with a little bow, “My name’s Jonathan Johnson,” he handed a business card to the mutated human to take, which took about a good fifteen seconds to happen. “I am a representative of Doctor Nathaniel Essex; I’m sure you’ve heard of him before?”
Ben thinks about the name, and some passive mentions by Gwen Stacy, whenever she visits Sue during lunch breaks, come to mind. “Something genetics, blah blah blah, something evolutionist, something?” The reply garnered a look of disdain and ridicule on the businessman’s face.
“Doctor Nathaniel Essex is a pioneer in mutagenic study and research, Mister Grimm, and he would like to have a conversation with you.” The businessman gestured to the minuscule card between the giant’s fingers, “The contacts printed on that should connect you with his secretary if you wish to see him,”
“And why would I?” Ben asked, confused and a bit skeptical.
The businessman gestured for them to continue the conversation outside, Ben decided to follow the man’s lead until they stopped under the light pole near a red newspaper dispenser. The man looked at the discarded fold and brought it to them, searching for the related page.
‘Miracles for outcasts?’ headline depicted a shot of a tall stature man in an expensive designer suit placing his hand on the head of a boy with scaly skin. “Nathaniel Essex, a self-proclaimed mutant expert, showcasing his life-changing device to cure mutants from their horrible affliction, read on at…” Ben read it aloud, baffled and excited at the same time; this might be what he seeks…or just a farce like all miracle workers and faith healers.
“Take some time, think about it,” The businessman, Johnson or something, slipped another object into his hand; an identification key of some sort, resembling a brooch or a tie clasp in the shape of a red X. “For the gatekeeper, just in case.” Ben took it and inspected the object with care; the material seemed more durable than a regular clasp and might be custom-made.
“I hope we see one another again, Mister Grimm,” Johnson announced as he started making his way opposite the stone giant, leaving the indecisive Ben Grimm under the streetlight until Johnson’s silhouette was obscured by darkness.
[Manhattan, New York. Mid 2028]
[Richards Aerospace Company]
“Oh!” Susan was startled as a set of arms draped around her waist, then relaxed when the familiar body of Gwen Stacy pressed into her back with a storm of kisses adorning the side of her neck. “Somebody’s having a good morning, I see?” the knowing look exchanged between them, referring to a man who slotted between their naked bodies every morning; the man who’s busied himself with recalibrating the testing devices, two floors above her biochemical lab.
“I don’t know what he ate lately, but he’s being very active.” Gwen snorted with a satisfying smirk plastered on her lips, “Shame you had to leave early, I didn’t get a chance to give you this,” Gwen said as her hands cupping Susan’s face and kissed the older blonde deeply, sensually, with Susan reciprocated in equal fervor.
“Can I tag in?” Johnny Storm teased from the entryway, leaning on the threshold with a shade on the bridge of his nose and clad inside the new version of the Adaptive suit, ready for testing and chick-chasing.
“Did mother drop you in your toddler years or something, dear brother?” Susan chided the ridiculousness of her brother’s harmless tease.
“Mother may not, Sue, but I have been suspecting you for some time now.” Johnny shoots his usual loud grin at both while waving his hand at Gwen, “Pleasure to see you, Gwendolyne,”
“How’s it going, Johnny?” Gwen chuckled as she rested her hand on Susan’s lower back, “Pete said you made quite a progress last week.”
“Ever the underseller, that guy,” Johnny snorted, puffing up his chest.
“He might not be bragging, but he sure is packing,” Susan mimicked a slur she heard from Gwen one evening when they had too much wine and the petite blonde decided to recount Peter’s pros to him, elicited an embarrassed groan from the shorter blonde woman.
“Ugh! I didn’t need to know that.” Johnny grimaces playfully, “Anyways, can I employ you for a moment, Susan?” The younger Storm inquired about his sister.
“What is it?”
“Yours and Gwendolyne’s boyfriend sent me on a fetch quest regarding a…reflector or something? Said he needed it to set up a course for your turn in the afternoon?” Johnny sported a look of confusion and uncertainty.
“You mean reflective plates?” Susan chanced with a quirked eyebrow, and that seemed to jog her brother’s memory in the right way as he snapped his fingers at the name.
“Yes! That! I don’t know why he was so adamant to chase me off to do this type of errand.”
“Maybe he just had enough of you? I had to put up with you for 26 years; it’s not that hard to sympathize with the poor man.” Susan playfully prodding her brother.
“He’d turn my lovely sister into my nemesis! Damn you, Spider-Menace!” Johnny mimicked JJJ’s voice almost to perfection. “And where are these McGuffins?”
“It’s in engineering, go ask Jules,” Susan shooed him off, but seeing her brother planted himself embarrassingly in his spot. “Jonathan Henry Storm, what did you do this time?”
“This is…extra,” Gwen commented as Susan led her into the entire floor dedicated to a staging area for the four mutates.
“Blame our CEO for it…actually, please partition that blame for our dear Peter as well while you are at it.” Susan chuckled in adoration while looking at Peter, working like a well-oiled machine preparing and rechecking the testing simulations for her.
Since being provided with full allowance in modifications and inventions, her beloved has been squeezing every piece of equipment to their acceptable limits like never before; showcasing how much of his intelligence had been suppressed by lack of financial support. She thinks Peter Parker might be getting close to rival Reed Richards himself intellectually, given time and more experience.
“Can I get a tour around the exhibition?” Gwen skipped near her boyfriend and prodded his shoulder lightly to announce her arrival, not that his heightened senses would need it.
“I usually charge one kiss per tour, up for it?” Peter countered with a smile, but his eyes were still glued to the circuitry.
“Damn good deal!” Gwen giggled and crouched beside him trying to get a visual of what he was doing. “What’s this?”
“Sue’s power revolves around manipulating EMF (Electro-Magnetic Field), so…” Peter trailed off a bit, focusing on soldering a modified chip into the board, “Mister Richards theorized that, similar to how she can condense particles to form a solid construct, she should also be able to form a bubble of force-field around herself as well.” He contorted a bit to shoot his hand up from his diving position, “Pass me the thermal paste.” Gwen quickly complied and he continued with his work. “This test will be conducted inside a controlled environment, so, we need to regulate charged particles and keep it at operational level for Sue’s power to work. And that process stressed some electronics last time,” Peter tutted a bit but then hummed with satisfaction before pulling himself up from the manhole on the floor. “I was reinforcing the circuits, allowing them to tolerate more power surges.” He finished with a shrug.
“Love it when you talk sexy,” Gwen crooned playfully and blew a kiss at him.
“We ready?” Susan emerged from the entryway in her suit, blue and black in a similar style to her brother’s. Her golden mane was bundled behind her head with some loose strands framing her beautiful face barren of any makeup whatsoever. Peter averted his eyes from Gwen and nodded at Susan with a reassuring smile.
“Prepped and ready,” Peter checked her suit again out of precaution and gathered her into him with a hand on the small of her back, “Are you?”
“Maybe…” Susan shot him a nervous grin.
“You’ve got the basics down, just relax.” He kept looking into her eyes and holding her close until Susan gave him a nod. Peter led Gwen out of the chamber and up to the monitoring platform.
“Should I be here?” Gwen asked as she was surrounded by various monitors depicting several aspects related to Doctor Storm’s vitals and scans.
“It’s not a company secret or anything,” Peter shrugged, initiating the procedure as instructed by Reed Richards; the Smartest Man Alive is now in a seminar, and appointed Julia as his representative for the time being. “I heard Mister Richards agreeing with Sue’s proposal of branching a part of RAC into a research facility focusing on metahumans and superpowered individuals; kind of a public and non-profit organization, unlike the Avengers.”
“Got a name for it yet?” Gwen teased him, her eyes looking over the simulation of Susan’s DNA that had been altered by Doc Ock with excitement and curiosity.
“None, yet. I’ll think of something,” Peter gives her a smirk.
“For the love of God, please don’t.”
“We are set, honey!” Peter announced through the speakers and saw Susan tentatively reply with a thumbs up. “Commencing the procedures, Nate,” he commanded the AI; the silence acknowledgment contrasted with the usual sass he used to with Edith’s.
“Any words from Friday?” Gwen inquired with an empathetic look at the slightest note of sadness on his face.
“There are traces of her surfing through the dark webs during the Siege, but so far nothing tangible.” He forced a nonchalant smile on his face, but Gwen knew how he felt about the missing AI. Edith was the last reminder of himself from a lifetime ago, and the last fragment of the man Peter looked up to.
“Starts by generating a small-size ball first,” he shoved it down and returned to the task at hand, instructing the Biochemist. He felt Gwen’s hand circling his waist and gathered him close, thankful for the comfort she gave without being asked.
“When do you have to go?” Peter mumbled between them, eyes still looking at Susan Storm slowly generating a hollow ball of charged particles between her palms.
“I should be registered into the system by next month, the courses begin about a week after that,” Gwen replied, gathering his taller and muscular frame into her side. She felt his lips on the top of her head and sighed deeply.
“I’ll swing by,” He got a smirk on his lips, but the joy didn’t reach his eyes.
“That’s a long way to swing on webs, Pete,”
“I’ll just stick to a plane; Tom Cruise style.” That elicited a chuckle out of her, and he planted another kiss on the top of her head. “Any words on the apartment?” He leaned away a little to readjust the particles inside the test chamber.
“Nothing affordable yet; most are too expensive even if I chipped in my savings with the stipends.” Gwen shrugged but then her eyes caught something on the monitor, and she gestured for Peter “Pete, the level of electromagnetism exceeds the danger zone for normal human cells; you sure she’s alright?” Peter scanned the data a little before producing a smile.
“That’s just 32% of what she can exert, Gwen,”
“Wow!” Gwen has a genuine excitement on her face; it’s rare to witness something that was just a metascience concept until recently. “You’re doing great, Sue!” The petite blonde cheered through the speaker. “Any downsides of this?”
“Generally, her force-field manifested in solid-construct form, but if I have to guess…” Peter read through the analysis for a minute, “Given that they bear similar functions…the inside of the sphere should be completely isolated from outside interferences; projectiles, or even energy weapons,” He pursed his lips along with Gwen as he listed them for both blondes to hear, impressed. “But that includes certain radio waves and all particles beyond the confined of its immediate area of effect.”
“Like…trapping someone inside to cut out their oxygen intake?” Susan mused with furrowed brows.
“That…as well, but there are so many uses we can adapt it to!” Peter exclaimed excitedly. “You can create a barrier to protect whatever is behind it,” Peter prepared a smoker and had Nathaniel loaded in the component. “Can you create one around yourself? Let’s see how long you can hold it."
Susan silently nodded and concentrated, it was like what he said to Johnny; the will is the most important thing. She felt energy coursing through her, exerting it in her mind to the area ahead of her, visualizing the shape of a sphere, and expanding it.
Through the filter, Gwen and Peter can see the force field gradually forming around the blonde biochemist until the sphere is connected into a complete globe except for the area that touches the floor.
“I think it’s ready?” Susan said nervously when she opened her eyes and saw the shimmering blue cocoon. “Let’s test it out!”
“She can see it?” Gwen asked with wonder.
“Her eyes changed, and now they can see that particular wavelength automatically.” Peter briefly explained, then punched some keys to activate the smoker. A waterfall of semi-transparent clouds cascades down from the vents on the ceiling, covering the chamber with its harmless touches. The smoke poured and poured into the area, yet the sphere around Susan Storm stayed untainted.
[Manhattan, New York. Mid 2028]
[Little Tokyo]
“…Yes! That would be great!” Gwen exclaimed into the phone as she walked down the street from her apartment to FEAST with her old clothes in her arms. “I can set up a video call later…how about 9 PM?”
“Oops! Sorry!” she yelped to a pedestrian she bumped into, checking the bags of clothes for a moment before continuing to her destination. “Yep…Yeah, that sounds cool…ah ha…I’ll e-mail you the documents around Friday…good…Thank you, again, Mister Greer.” Gwen hung up and then heard a beep of a car greeted her from behind, spin around she was met with a familiar face of Martin Li.
“You going to the shelter, Gwen?” the Chinese philanthropist and her former caretaker greeted her with his trademark warm smile, Missus Li also waving her hand from the passenger seat.
“Mister Li! Missus Li!” Gwen started to wave but promptly stopped herself before giving them a bow instead. “Nice to meet you!”
“I thought we told you not to bow?” Martin harbored a calm and caring look on his face, “Anyways, are you going to the shelter? We can give you a lift.” Martin gestured his head to the bags in her hands, “Doing another donation?”
“Something like that,” Gwen nodded with a smile, “I got some that the kids can use, some from Pete’s as well.” Gwen presents the bags to him, indicating which is which.
“Well, hop in, Miss Stacy, we can talk on the way.” Martin unlocked the passenger door for her and took off when Gwen settled on the back seat.
The scenery sped by and occasionally went stationary due to the traffic. Missus Li and herself fell into a conversation regarding Howard’s education and how he was doing. The short-haired woman and her brother seem to be getting along quite well in the five years they’ve known each other.
“How’s Harvard been going on?” Martin Li started just when the traffic could move again, as he navigated the car along the road, “Any problems with the transition into the university? I still have some friends over there that can help with lodging and such.” That perked the blonde up.
“Really? That would be great, Mister Li! I’ve been struggling to find an affordable apartment for days now.” Gwen chirped with hope in her eyes.
“Martin has some rooms near the university if you are interested. You might have to share the rent with another one or two people, but it’s cheaper than a similar room from other people.” Francine Li offered, looking at her husband and seeing him hum with approval.
“The nearest one might take about fifteen minutes on foot to the university, I think I can call on my middleman to check if you want?”
“Thank you so much, Mister Li. You helped me out a lot, here,” Gwen harboring a grateful smile.
“But I would like to ask a favor from you, though.” Francine Li started with a side of her husband’s small chuckle. “We are going to launch FEAST in Massachusetts, focusing on managing homeless people and low-income houses.” Francine goes on, “I want you to be my informant, twice-a-month-summary-reports sort of thing; what do you say?”
Gwen thinks about the offer, or rather a deal, she was about to make with Missus Li. It sounds a bit fishy that they would need an informant for a homeless shelter…but then again, lodging discount!
[Manhattan, New York. Mid 2028]
[Somewhere in the city]
Peter perches at night around 10 PM when his eyes catch a suspecting sight down in the dark alley; there’s a burly man with a ridiculously loud hairstyle tailing a young woman. A sight that insinuates something sinister. His white lenses narrowed into thin lines as he crept along the buildings and walls, tracking the burly man at a reasonable distance.
‘Something’s wrong about him, and I’m not talking about the fact that he’s stalking a girl late at night.’ Spider-Man sticks to walls and shadows, studying the burly man intensely.
Stocky and short, around 5.4 feet tall with swollen muscles and hairy arms; the arms themselves almost rival the dimensions of his calves. Rocking a combination of mutton chop and ducktail, selling the lumberjack aesthetic quite well with the white wifebeater and navy flannel shirt tucked into the hem of his jeans.
‘Man didn’t even bother with disguises; bold.’ Spidey snorted internally. Maybe he did this too many times before, ‘A serial rapist?’ The thought burns his inside, thinking back to the two victims he knew of a similar crime. Peter silently jumped to the building on the opposite side, gaining a more advantageous spot for quick intervention. He kept crawling on and on until it looked like the girl noticed the situation she was in, she spun around with a jolt of shock at the sight of the burly man in front of her. Peter watched the conversation for a moment before he heard a metallic sound like ‘snikt!’ and saw the man sprung a set of bladed weapons at the girl threateningly. ‘So, it’s a good o’ mugging…or bad o’ mugging?’ Spider-Man mused internally before positioning himself while aiming his web-shooters at the area around the soon-to-be altercation, then he shot a pair of web lines to zip himself like a bullet when the girl was backed into a fence and the man started closing the gap.
“Comin’ through!!” Peter announced chirpily as he was about to collide with the burly man, who miraculously reacted just in time and clotheslined his trajectory with that wide arm which forced Peter to contort his body and land his feet on the arm with the impact force of momentum; it managed to maybe move the arm forward by two inches until he was being thrown into a trash bin at the side. “Ouch!” he faked a pained groan before springing himself up into a crouch and shooting a valley of webbings in the hope of incapacitating the man who was made with inhumanly dense muscles and skeleton.
His new web formula which should make it easy to apprehend a speeding Rhino in his track, got diced and sliced so easily it made him deflated a little. His white lenses widened comically at the set of six metallic claws, three on each hand, “Let me guess; Han from Enter the Dragon?!” Spider-Man weaved a sweep kick aimed at his chest and used the heavy leg of the burly man as a platform to execute a horizontal cartwheel at the man’s neck; very sure he should be some kind of enhanced judging from that reflex earlier and the impact behind his blows, and it felt like he just kicked a wooden pole like that time Daredevil taught him Muay-Thai.
“Holy moly—” The ‘snikt!’ comes again just before the man’s fist contacts Peter’s stomach, knocking the wind out of his lungs like being hit by a sledgehammer. He quickly retaliated by trapping the man’s arm with his legs and locking his wrist then pulling it, hard.
“Ugh! Fuck off, kid!” the man growled with annoyance, trying to pry his bigger arm off but struggling with Spidey’s superhuman strength. “Let it go, Bu—” Peter cut him off with a glob of webbing on his mouth.
“Sorry, I didn’t warn ya; got a bit too excited,” Peter snickered a bit when he landed in his trademark crouching stance, ready to pounce again if the fight continues, “Don’t swallow it, though, it’s not a protein shake supplement.”
“Anyone ever tells you to shut your damn mouth?!” The biker/lumberjack hybrid tutted with mild irritation while clawing the sticky substance out of his face with a look of disgust.
“Rude,” Spider-Man glances sideways at the girl who cornered herself behind an abandoned fridge, checking her overall condition briefly before returning his narrowed lenses to the annoyed man. “What do you want with her?” his playfulness toned out, getting serious as his eyes continued to analyze the body language, determining whether to initiate a fight or not.
“None of your damn business,” the claws sprung out again, Peter noted a brief painful expression on his opponent’s face. “Get out of my way, buddy, I don’t wanna hurt you.”
“That’s a relief,” Peter tensed his body, drafting a new strategy with the notion of those wickedly sharp claws. “The feeling’s mutual, then.”
“Step aside,” the burly man lowered himself with eyes focusing on the girl rather than the vigilante, “It’s for the best.”
“Not if I can help it, ‘buddy’,” Peter mocked the Canadian accent as best he could, aiming to irritate and provoke his opponent in the hope that they would get sloppy.
This macho man knows how to fight, probably better than he is.
“You have no idea what you are doin’ Bub.” He can almost feel the tension in the muscles, coiled and ready to release their explosive forces.
“Saving an innocence from you. Obviously.” Peter visualizes the rough plan to take this one down, a bit relieved that he can go harder than usual thugs and muggers; in truth, he’s excited about it.
“Last warning, Spider-Man; Fuck. Off.”
“Interesting proposition Snarly, but I think I’ll pass.” Peter stays firmly in his spot, adamant.
“Fuckin’ superheroes…” The man mumbled under his breath and with surprising speed, dashes at the direction of the girl rather than engaging in a fight against New York City’s protector.
“Yoink!” Peter quickly latched four webbings on the speeding figure and yanked him back forcefully, stopping the charging man with a bit of a muscle strain; that was tooheavy for a man of that build and size. Spider-Man launched himself into a spinning kick and collided with the opponent’s shoulder accompanied by a loud impact sound like a whip cracking against a wooden pole. Both fall into a quick and brutal exchange of blows and counters, with the shorter man having advantages in experience.
Peter’s flying knee was blocked with an elbow counter.
Boxing jabs were countered.
Peter delivered some counters of his own when the burly man’s defense faltered for a moment; his knuckles sored from how dense the man’s skeleton was, but he kept pushing.
The man started growling and roaring like an animal when the fight stretched on, desperate to get past the vigilante to the girl; and Peter can’t let that happen. After an evade, Spider-Man quickly snatched out and threw a web bomb into the space between them, shooting two web lines backward to snap himself out of the effective range. The chemical substance erupted into a ball of webbing that reacted with the open air quite quickly, covering the grunting man in mere seconds.
Despite his commendable effort in struggle, the webs were just too thick and too sturdy.
Peter landed on his feet quite gracefully, hissing at the slashes he got while wrestling the wild man earlier. “Aww, man! I just repaired it last night!” he groaned dramatically while waiting for his wounds to mend themselves like they usually do, but before that happened the girl quickly tackled him into a hug and mumbled a thank you into his chest. “You’re welcome, miss, but you’re gonna get some red on you!” Peter politely pushed her away from him, noting a smear of his blood on her cheek. “Let me just—” Before he could reach it, the girl quickly wiped it off with a wet wipe.
“Hey!” the man shouted annoyingly.
Peter looked at her from head to toe; satisfied that she was unharmed he let go of his hands on her arms. “You didn’t get hurt, right?” The girl nodded her head with a quivering smile, a well of tears gathered around her eyes. “Hey, it’s alright now. You’re safe.” Peter comforted her as best he could and felt a bit relieved that he was here on time. “What’s your name?”
“Get me out of this—” Peter webbed the man’s mouth shut with a tut.
“Adults are talking,” Peter chided the burly man with narrowed lenses and reverted to the girl.
“Jen,” the girl said with a bit more relaxed smile, looking at him with admiration and a glint of relief.
“Hey, Jen. I’m Ben,” Peter replied with a kind smile, trying to ease her mind. He offered her a hand to shake, and she tentatively took it after a moment. “Do you mind waiting for the police to pick you up? I think they’ll need a statement.” He touched the earbud and sent an anonymous tip to any dispatchers in the vicinity; a newly improved system he is quite proud of. The girl, though, shook her head a little.
“I should get going, my mom must be worried sick right now.” Jen shifts nervously, looking at Spider-Man with an uncertain grin. “Can you…swing me back to my place? I don’t want to be alone right now.” The request was genuine and innocent enough that Peter saw no harm in complying.
“Uh…Okay? I guess I can do that!” He then turned his head around to the struggling man with a pointed finger, “Don’t go anywhere, boys in blues will be here soon enough.” Then he startled a bit when Jen pressed her body into his side and circled her arms around his neck.
“Hold on tight?” Peter was a bit confused, but then dismissed it and leaped into the air with Jen in tow. The burly man protested with a muffled yell again, yet he paid it no mind.
“Okay, here we are!” Peter landed her softly in front of an apartment complex she directed him from the scene of an almost crime.
“Thank you, Spider-Man,” Jen shyly thanked him with a hidden smile, “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You don’t have to,” Peter replied with a smile under his mask. He pats her shoulder firmly, “But you can go to the police tomorrow and give a statement, okay?” Jen nods with a smile.
“You are a good man, you know?” Jen called as he was about to leap into the air, a sincere smile on her face. Spider-Man let out a chuckle and nodded his head before jumping into the air and swinging away.
Jen kept the smile on her face for as long as the red and black vigilante was still in her sight, and it washed away immediately with a coy smirk and a glint of smugness. “But you are too naïve for this world, Spider-Man,” Jen said to herself with an altered voice, her features changed rapidly into another façade with red hair and a completely different face. She fishes the bloodstained wet wipe out of her pocket and inspects it again while her other hand reaches for her phone. The shape-shifter dialed a contact named ‘S’ and waited for a couple of seconds before the line was picked up.
“I got it on wet wipe…okay. See you soon, Sinister.” Jen, or whoever it was, started making her way to her destination after packing the wet wipe into a Ziploc.
“Your beauty always brightens my day, Miss Darkhölme,” The tall British man greeted her from his seat, dressed pompously in his three-piece suit of the beige palette, a dish of chef-prepared meal under his etiquette hands and utensils. “Care for dinner? I have procured this exquisite beluga sturgeon filled with caviars from a friend.” Essex gestured to the prepped dish covered inside a glass dome for her.
“I don’t eat after 9, sorry,” she replied but still took the seat reserved for her by the gentleman, crossing her legs seductively to tease him through the transparent dinner table. She is now clad in a white dress and wearing her natural façade of smooth blue skin, piercing amber eyes, and fiery red hair. “Are you nearly done with the meal, or should I return another time?”
“Give me another minute or two, darling, we’ll be at business shortly.” Essex retorted with his coy smirk at the shifting of her legs, revealing a glimpse of clothing choice for him to enjoy. “Besides, you might benefit from a bit of rest yourself; just enjoy Bach’s meanwhile, before we get to a more…unpleasant scenery.”
“I’m more of a Beethoven girl myself; he was more…exciting and rebellious,” Darkhölme commented with a little smirk. True to his words, Essex finished in about a minute and gestured for his servant to take care of the table while looking at her with an inviting smile and a hand for her to take.
“It was too easy, he was quite gullible,” she presented a bloodstained fabric used on Spider-Man earlier, and the evolutionist took it with glee and excitement akin to a teenager. She follows his lead into the underground laboratory that reminds her of McCoy’s back at Charles’s mansion. Tubes of human subjects, vials of various chemical components, rows of clean and bloody medical tools, and a triplet of operational platforms.
The far side of the lab housed a special liquid tube that contained a young female specimen in a state of constant sedation. The young girl, might not be older than thirteen at most, floating inside the tank with sleepy eyes and life supports hooked directly via her mouth and nostrils. “Would it kill you to show some decency?” Mystique inquired with furrowed brows towards the geneticist, indicating at the tank once he turned his eyes towards her.
“I haven’t the time nor patience to suffer her shortcomings for a change of clothes.” Essex grimaced when looking at the floating girl, “Besides, her presence here is only to benefit my research; having her with or without decency makes no difference.” Essex continues with the analysis of the sample he’d recently received, humming an old-timer instrumental song you rarely find on any records. “Might I ask, how was your night?”
Mystique sighed with heavy eyes, fishing out a half-full fragrance bottle from her purse to set it atop a trolley. “He sniffed me out again, I will need a new combination to fool that dog’s nose.” That gained a hum of curiosity from the pale man, and he snapped his fingers several times in a signal. One of his servants, a group comprised of his clones, enters the lab with an intricately crafted wooden box.
“Have at it, consider it a gift,” Essex dismissed the servant with another wave.
“You are too kind,” Mystique sarcastically replied, perusing the collection of masking scents in front of her; it’s a bonus that Nathaniel Essex is one of the very few who studied mutants so deeply, and might be the only one to do that consecutively for hundreds of years. Tricking Wolverine’s honed senses takes a lot of hard work and precision. She chose three out of the seven scents he offered and closed the box after stashing them inside her purse.
“…I must say, his genetic composition is quite…fascinating.” Essex got a satisfying grin on his pale-white face, giving off a sense eerie to those who gaze upon it. “You’ve done a marvelous job, Miss Darkhölme.” He then takes the fabric to another device, “I must duplicate the sample, for further study and experiment.” He mumbled to himself while Mystique started making her way to one of the obscured tanks, pressing a button to reveal the body of a humanoid alien with green-colored skin, pointy ears, and a ridged chin. Some body parts of the specimen she’s looking at were in-between transformation process almost similar to how her mutation works. “One step closer…” Essex whispered to the device containing a sample of Spider-Man’s blood.
“Mister Essex, sir,” another servant of his visage bowed politely to both, “Your guest has arrived.”
“Thank you, number 3,” Then, the pale man turned towards her with an apologetic expression. “You must excuse my impoliteness, Miss Darkhölme.” He gestured for her to follow him to the lift. “I must ask for your discretion, as well,” he implied as indicating her appearance.
“I’ll indulge,” Mystique retorted with a smirk and changed her appearance to that of a normal human with black hair and green irises. “How do I look?”
“Lovely, dear. Lovely,” Essex places his hand on the small of her back, guiding her out of the lift toward the guest area where a stone giant was waiting. “Allow me,” the pale man got a seat out for her with a charming smile on his face and hummed lovingly when Mystique played along with a kiss on his cheek before sitting down.
She watches Mister Sinister with attentive eyes when he approaches the stone giant with a corporate smile and an offer of his hand. “My apologies, Mister Grimm, and thank you for considering our proposition.” Essex then turned to introduce her to the stone giant, “This is my associate; do forgive me if I shan’t name her,”
“That’s alright,”
“So, what can I do for you, Mister Grimm?” Essex sat on his seat at her side, his attention honed on the mutated man in front of them, “I hope our last conversation has shed some light on the matter?” It was discreet enough, but Mystique could detect the slightest change in Essex’s face that indicated a smug. Another moment passed, and the stone giant produced a set of data caches from his person and laid them on the coffee table between them.
[Manhattan, New York. Mid 2028]
[Susan Storm's apartment]
“Ugh…” Gwen groans when she tries to get up from the bed, messy sheet and cover piled around her semi-naked self, while the other two regular attendances are nowhere to be found. “…where the hell did this migraine come from?” The petite blonde heard the shifting of feet from outside and the jostles of glassware drawing near, and they seemed to worsen her headache.
“Hangover?” Peter’s teasing voice even sounded irritating to her at this point, but his presence was always welcomed. “You got a cold or…?” He tentatively set the tray of breakfast down at the vacant area of the bed and softly patted her cheeks before feeling the heat on her forehead. His brows furrowed at the unusual temperature searing his skin.
Peter pushed her down into a lounging position with additional pillows and quickly navigated himself to the bathroom; Susan had already left for the morning conference between board members. He quickly gathered the aspirin from the hidden cupboard behind a mirror and retraced his path, sitting down beside her in only his trunks and a glass of water.
Gwen took the pellets with a little difficulty due to the constant squeezes in her brain, a sigh escaped her lips when she handed the empty glass back to her boyfriend and plopped down on top of the pillows at her back and nuzzled a bit into his palm caressing her cheek. “Thanks…” she smiled weakly, eyes fluttering in a lingering slumber mixed with tiredness.
“Better?” Peter harbored a kind and caring smile on his face while caressing the sunflower locks softly to comfort her. Gwen attempted to object with a shake of her head, but her raw nerves blared screamingly until she conceded.
“No…” she moaned defeated, feeling harder and harder to open her sapphire orbs to take in the visage of her caretaker. “It feels like…my head’s gonna blow…” with a frustrated whimper, Gwen tried to massage the ache out of her temples but soon her hands were replaced by Peter’s as he repositioned them to be more accommodating for her request.
He starts lightly, restraining his strength, while mapping the throbbing nerves around her head according to her reactions while doing so. Gwen let out a staggered sigh when his efforts seemed to be working, if not to the level that she hoped for. Peter traced his hands behind her head and focused on the base of her skull, and then he trailed down to her neck.
“You have work?” Gwen mumbled against the pillow as she lay on her stomach while Peter worked on the pressure points across her body when it became apparent the migraine wouldn’t go away without a fight.
“Just general maintenance, I can take a day off.” He replied with a grunt as his weight pressed down atop her shoulder and upper back, trying to discover the spot that would ease her torment. “Better?”
“Just about,” Gwen crooned as the knots in her back uncoiled following the path of his hands. “You sure Miss Takeda won’t bite your head off later?” She moaned after he pressed into one of the pleasure spots by accident and the sudden flow of blood seemed to lessen the migraine a little.
“I fought Thanos’s yetis; I can manage,” he replied with a dorky grin.
Gwen lays in the cage of his arms while listening to the rhythm of his snores and counting the beats of his heart pressed into her back. It was so long ago since they had some alone time, not that she dislikes the tango they have going on now, but some private intimacy has become such a rare occasion that she craves. She sinks back into his warmth and cushions her backside against his taut and toned muscles while enjoying the steady breathing that grazes her ear, while the warmth from last night still lingers inside her body.
It's not often that Peter gets a chance to forego condoms, and he takes them with vigorous determination. Gwen chuckles softly at that train of thought, feeling a bit silly to delve into that much detail. The serenity of his embrace was interrupted as a ringtone blared from Peter’s phone on the nightstand.
“Pete?” She shook his arm firmly and saw him open those hazel eyes slowly to her call.
“Want something?” he stifled a yawn between his inquiries, eliciting an adoring chuckle out of her.
“Someone’s calling you.”
“Huh…” He leaned towards the nightstand and took the phone in his hand, then returned to his position behind Gwen and wrapped his arm around her midriff before answering the phone. “Peter Parker,”
“Webs?”
“…Tin Can?” Peter replied in confusion, first because Harley Keener called him, and second because Harley Keener somehow got his new contact. “How…”
“Karen.”
“Right,” Peter sighed in defeat, burying his face in the mess of Gwen’s sunflower hair and mumbled incoherently to himself, Gwen chuckled softly at the tickles. “What do you want?” The hostilities between them were a bit lessened after Iron Man himself sent The Iron Legions into the city to help end the Siege.
“Can you come here? Got something to show you,” Harley said like he was focused on something else, probably another new project or invention for the Avengers.
“The Compound?” As he was asking the question, Gwen nudge her ass into his groin teasingly with a giggle at his stiffened member.
“Stark Tech,” the caller paused for a moment, seemingly engaging in another conversation, and returned with a small chuckle. “Morgan said if you don’t, she’ll send Hank to drag your ass here.”
Peter contemplates a little; of course, he wants to see little Morgan but then there’s Gwen to be taken care of as well. “How about 3 PM? I gotta take care of things first.” Peter answered while widening his eyes inquisitively at his girlfriend.
“Fine,” Iron Man replied nonchalantly and ended the call.
“Tin Can?” Gwen looked at him with a high brow and an adoring smirk. She was bopping his nose when Peter rested his chin in the crook of her neck.
“Well, Ti-Au Can or Titanium-Aurum Alloy Man was a mouthful; and I refuse to call that smug Iron Man to his face, like, ain’t no way.” He ground his freshly shaven chin into her sweet skin, eliciting a fit of giggles from the petite blonde. “Anyways, you wanna go with me?”
“To Stark Tech?”
“No, to prom,” Peter cackled a bit, “Yes, Stark Tech.” he planted a chaste kiss on the side of her neck while enjoying her fingers raking through his messy brunet hair. “I don’t wanna leave you alone, but I don’t wanna be dragged into a car by Hank either.”
“Who’s that?” Gwen pulled at his curls, pressing his face into her neck further, deeper, closer.
“Morgan’s new bodyguard; ex-military, hand-picked by Happy and Colonel Rhodes. A good man, but kinda scary.” He mumbled between kisses and licks, kneading her soft flesh and tasting her warmth.
“Peter Parker, are you trying to introduce me to your family?” Gwen teases him and lets out a satisfying hum at his attentive caresses on her waist and breasts. Peter hums into her neck and the vibration sends shivers down to her core.
“There’s a curious little demon, a smartass jerk, and their mom. Up for it?”
“The meet the family, or whatever we have going on now?” Gwen inquired playfully, guiding his hand under her loose shirt, and moaned when his callouses grazed her sensitive buds.
“Both? Both sound good.” He grins between mumble, taking her earlobe between his teeth and nibbling it gently. “But we can just agree to go meet the family if you still have migraine?” he teased as Gwen started writhing under his attentive touches.
“Hmm…tempting…” Gwen huffed out as the hardness behind her ass became more noticeable, and Peter’s body radiated heat into her despite the A/C running.
“Indeed…” Peter mirrored her and relocated his hand underneath the silky fabric of her pajama pants, teasing the furnace under his fingers with dexterous familiarity. “Maybe we can just go back to sleep…” he started to retract his hand, but Gwen’s clamped down on his wrist to keep him in place with a flustered whine.
She twisted her body and captured his smug lips in a fervorous hunger, pressing her erected nipples against his muscled chest and moaning into their locked lips. She keeps scratching the back of his head tenderly, eliciting an approval grunt into her mouth. She traversed her hand into his gray trunks, fondling the already hardened gland with a firm grip.
“What about…” Peter started with the last shred of logical thinking left in his mind, which Gwen chuckled against with the increased intensity of her wrapping hand.
“It’s a safe day,” Gwen replied, and that spurred Peter into a quick succession of undressing her. Laying bare to his dark eyes, Gwen felt a mix of nervousness and excitement despite the countless encounters they had at this point; it was subtle in the way he usually drank her body while radiating something primal. Her hand returns to its favorite site when Peter hovers above her, his hands clutching at the headrest of Susan Storm’s bed. She tasted him with the tip of her tongue, and he bucked involuntarily into her eager warmth. Before long, Peter sheathed himself completely, groaning at the warm and wet caress enclosing him in their loving embrace.
[Manhattan, New York. Mid 2028]
[Stark Technologies, Stark Industries]
“Can I help you?” The receptionist inquired as Peter and Gwen walked past the revolving door into the main hall of Stark Technologies' main building. The vast ovular-shaped hall was lined with replicas of inventions since the shutting down of the weapons manufacturing department. Pepper Potts legitimated the branching and development of the facility in 2020, with her late husband’s blessing and endorsement, of course; and just a year before the Battle of Earth, Tony reached out to Harley Keener for a position of an engineer. After Keener was designated as the new Iron Man in 2025 by the World Council, Pepper promoted the young prodigy to take control of the whole department under her supervision.
“We have an appointment, with Mister Keener?” The giant frameless clock on the wall in the reception zone read 3:13 PM. “Benjamin Reilly.” He introduced himself with the agreed name to exploit the spell’s loophole and waited a moment for the Indian receptionist to check the schedule and guest list, while Gwen pacing around and looking at the detailed replicas inside transparent shelves.
“…Oh, here,” The receptionist exclaimed with a polite smile, handing two visitor passes to him. “Please keep away from restricted and employee areas.”
Peter took the offered items with a smile and looked at the name tag on the receptionist’s jacket before nodding his head a little, “Thank you, Mister Prabhakar.” It was foreign and difficult to pronounce, but he made it judging from the little hum and a nod.
Peter navigated to her spot, looking at the prototype Med-bot with the capacity to carry a load of around ½ ton of medical equipment and medicines to isolated areas. “Interested in any model particularly, mia bella?” He gave his Italian Salesman voice 120% effort, and it elicited a giggle from the sunflower-blonde.
“Can you tell me more about this one?”
“Reinforced ABS casing. 1100-grade aluminum alloy skeleton. Aero-converter propellers. Maximum load of 1,000 pounds of medicines and medicinal equipment.” Peter replied with a nostalgic smile, “They were deployed in mass quantity throughout Africa and the Middle East, some in Asia as well.”
“I thought Wakanda got Africa covered?” Gwen inquired with confusion.
“Even Wakanda must accept help from the outside world with this. King T’Challa is the first to aid the neighboring nations openly, and that takes time.” He replied with a shrug, then clipped the pass at the waistband of her pants. “Maybe we can take a vacation there? I might have to pack my red suit, but I got a visa.” Peter proposed the idea as they traversed the hallway towards the tram cargo that would take them to the inner sectors. “One of the very, very few perks for saving the world.” He harbored a smirk.
“That sounds nice, actually,” Gwen replied with a thoughtful expression, walking beside Peter as she let him lead them to their destination. “What was it like? In Wakanda?” Gwen asked in his direction while her eyes marveled at the facility manufacturing many devices and robotics.
“Dunno.” He shrugged nonchalantly, earning a light swat on his shoulder.
“Oof!” Peter exclaimed playfully when Morgan tackled him like a linebacker.
“Spidey!” the little Stark chirped happily while hugging his waist with a tight hold.
“Thought you got lost on the way here or something, Webs.” The Tennessee engineer greeted from his workbench, still tinkering with the device in front of him. From a glimpse of it, Peter deduced it to be a kind of bracelet. “Morg, let him breathe.” Harley’s tone shifted immediately when addressing his surrogate little sister, adoring and caring; the opposite of the one he reserved for Spider-Man. “Afternoon, Miss Stacy.” Iron Man shot a polite smile at the petite blonde. Morgan was still trapping Spidey in a bear hug as the vigilante moved awkwardly further into the workshop.
“All right,” Peter grunted mockingly and pried the girl off his side, then ruffled her auburn hair with a chuckle. “Is this some kind of your school project?” He gestured to whatever Keener was finishing and lifted Morgan off the floor under her shoulders with his super strength.
“It’s not, but I can show you later if you wanna see it?” The nine-year-old said with a look of pleading, the glint in her eyes telling a proud story behind whatever she had in store for him. “And Gerald misses you too, you know?” The little Stark referred to the pet alpaca back at her countryside house.
“And it’s almost her birthday, too, in case you didn’t remember,” Harley chimed in with a sarcastic lilt, cackled darkly to himself with a final twist of a screwdriver to close the device. The dirty-blond engineer looked up from his work to be greeted by Morgan sticking her tongue out at him from where she was hovering.
“You are mean!”
“Guilty as charged, Morg,” Iron Man shrugged with a grin. “Come here, Webs, let's test this out.”
“Hold on a second, Keener,” Peter set Morgan down and the little girl walked up to Gwen with a confusing look, “What is ‘this’ and what test?” He felt the burning anger inside from how his former teammate spoke to him and about him but kept things civil for young Morgan’s sake.
“Something important,” With that said, Harley tossed the bracelet at him, which he caught with practiced ease. “Put it on,”
“Very flattered, Tin Can, but I’m already taken.” Gwen chuckled a bit at that retort.
“Just put it on…smug ass,” Harley whispered the last part in consideration of Morgan. Then, he clapped his hands together loudly to summon an analysis terminal up from the floor. “Karen, would you mind?”
“Consider it done, boss,” the synthetic voice answered with her monotonous response. The portion of the workshop shifted and rearranged itself introducing a lowered ceiling, exactly the effective height of Spider-Man’s jump. Peter also felt a shift underneath his feet.
“…what?”
“Jump.” Iron Man demanded, eliciting a huff from the vigilante. Peter rolled his eyes dramatically before coiling his leg muscles and pushing off the floor, noticing a change in the exertion of his force, and instinctively raising his hand to stick it to the lowered ceiling.
“Why are we doing—” his inquiry was interrupted by the sudden yelp of confusion and panic as his fingers slipped off the surface and he fell to the floor, where KAREN flipped up the cushioning to lessen the impact. Peter fell into the soft paddings with an ‘oof’ while Harley just hummed with satisfaction.
“Around 15 seconds…” Harley mumbled between himself and his AI assistant, making notes and observations while Spider-Man struggled to get out of the mess of paddings. “…might need a tweak to shorten the activation period?”
“…what just happened?” Gwen asked from her spot with the equally baffled Morgan Stark at her side.
Peter finally emerged from the pile and looked as confused as when he attended a choir on Sunday by accident; let’s just say that he won’t be singing songs anytime soon. “What the f—fizzy was that?!” almost, Pepper’s scolding, almost. Peter looked at the bracelet on his wrist with contempt and confusion. He quickly felt around the object and attempted to pry it off, yet it persisted through his not-so-super-anymore-strength. “Harley, what is this?”
“Power dampener,” Iron Man answered with a forced smile, clicking commands on the terminal for a second, and the dampener came loose. “Did you just lose your enhanced strength?” Harley made an observation and confirmed by the way Spider-Man’s facial expression changed. “Works better than I thought, then.”
“…we need to talk,”
“Away from Morgan, yes?”
“Got somewhere in mind?”
“Somehow,” The dirty-blond offered with a sigh, “Karen, please inform Hank to collect Morgan.” The AI complied against the protesting whine of the little girl.
“I will go with her; she wants to show me around,” Gwen informed her boyfriend when Morgan’s bodyguard came, then she turned towards the Tennessee genius with a scowl on her face. The others left the workshop and Peter immediately threw the dampener at the Iron Man, but not so hard that it would do damage.
“The fuck was the shackles for?” Peter squinted his eyes with rising anger.
“It’s a power dampener, not a shackle,” the matter-of-factly tone of voice only managed to inspire irritation. “It shouldn’t be a surprise, Webs. Enhanced terrorists and criminals rise in number for these past few years, I just giving us simpletons a means to retaliate.” Harley shrugged with a ridiculous look on his face.
“And when some of those target customers got their hands on this? What’ll happen when some of them sneak it up on one of us?” Peter delivered his criticisms with seethed anger.
“How about federal agents and policemen facing them?” Harley countered.
“We help them! I helped them!”
“And when we didn’t get there in time?! What the fuck will you do about that?!” Harley barked, “Should I pull up that footage of Doctor Banner’s rampage? What if an officer ran into another Kali Morgenthau alone without you like last time?” Iron Man lessened his intensity and tried to stay calm. “I have confidence in myself and the Avengers, but this will give them a fighting chance.”
“You can’t regulate the use of them out there, Harley. You wouldn’t be able to,” Peter replied, pacing slowly.
“It is in our—” Harley stopped himself, clearing his throat. “It is in my responsibility to ensure the safety of the people. This,” He emphasized his word by shaking the dampener between them, “Will help keep people safe; Isn’t that why you went back to being a vigilante? To keep people safe without asking for the Council’s approval? I can help with this, it doesn’t need a say-so of those pompous bastards to distribute these for the police, I would even give them out for free; Pepper might be a bit upset with the numbers, but I’ll deal with that later.” The reasoning shut Spider-Man down and urged him into a deep contemplation.
“I don’t like it,” Peter said after a while.
“It’s either Stark Tech or OSCORP, Webs. And I think I know your preferred choice.” Harley brings up a schematic for a similar device but with a larger size, practically a collar. “Norman Osborn pitched the idea at a bidding conference a month ago, Damage Control backed him up with the idea of putting these collars on superpowered humans.”
“They…they can’t do that!” Peter thinks of the Defenders, especially Jessica Jones and Luke Cage; both made too many enemies to be safe without their powers, not to mention the possibility of the dampening device’s effects on Matt Murdock’s super senses.
“They can, and they will; Ross was looking for this kind of excuse since the Flag-Smasher assault on New York and the Liberty Isle incident. Now with the Siege resting in the history book, the Council and General Ross are one step closer to tipping the scale in their favor. Rhodey and Hill will hold them off as long as possible while Fury and the others come up with preferable alternatives.” Harley pulled up another borrowed data cache onto the holographic projector, “I want you to know about these,” the Tennessee genius indicated to schematics of CRUD tactical gears, some were new designs he’d never seen before on agents roaming the city alongside NYPD. “They were planning on upgrading their gears to be better suited for countering superpowered individuals, all they need right now is the Council’s approval. I had to take this on before OSCORP, at least stall them off for a while.” The reasoning sounded genuine and logical, Peter reluctantly nodding his head to Harley’s words; it’s better the devil you knew.
“How did you get all of these?” Peter gestured toward the confidential data displayed before them.
“That’s why I wanted you here,” Harley discarded the data and brought up a new simulation depicting an AI synopsis form of greenish color, quite familiar… “Karen found it inside the dark web, the signal it was pinging bears some similarities to Edith’s.” Harley gives him a pair of A.R. gloves to navigate the simulation freely. “It is still unresponsive, by the way, but the leaks were a distress signal to gain Karen’s attention.”
Peter looked at Edith with soft eyes and a hint of a smile, like seeing an old friend again after such a long time. He navigates the 3D model around, inspecting the overall construct of the AI for the first time since he extracted her from the Avengers’ computer. He had seen what JARVIS used to look like when he was still an intern, and Edith bears some resemblances of the transcended AI that was living inside Vision before the end of the Infinity War. Thinking about Vision also made him curious about Wanda Maximoff, her powers were terrifying and incomprehensible during the Battle of Earth, yet he swears he felt a deep-seated sense of loss and loneliness from her at Tony’s funeral; a bad mix, if you will.
“Can you bring her back?” Peter started after a while, with a hopeful expression on his face. Harley sighed deeply with a shrug.
“It’s not impossible, but it’ll take time to extract her into local servers. You might wanna reconsider joining the team again if you want her back within your possession.”
“I gave you Karen, Keener. Edith was mine to keep.” Silently referred to their agreed ‘legacy’ of Tony Stark to kept with them separately. “You will give her back to me when the process is completed.”
“Or what? You’re gonna break into the Compound to steal her and give Ross the final push?”
“Don’t try me, the Compound is as secure as any of us want it to be, and you know it damn well.” If he had his mask on, the lenses would be narrowed so tight.
“…fine.” Iron Man chuckled to himself with a shake of his head, hands in the air surrendering. “Tony gave her to you, after all.” Harley then reached for a pair of smart bands to hand them to a confused Peter.
“Another design? Gotta say, Tennessee, you should ask Kate for pointers because so far these look bland as hell.”
“It’s not a dampener. Try it on, I think I still got the dimensions right.” Harley urged him and Peter reluctantly complied. The band fits comfortably on both of his wrists, Peter then tries and succeeds with his adhesion power on the floor. “It registered your bio-electricity signature as an activator, go on.” The dirty-blond engineer urged still.
Peter touched the left one with his fingers and it deployed rapidly into a form of gauntlet, covering the back of his hand to just below the elbow. It even has an indentation for installing Web-Shooters and spare cartridges. He moves it around and finds it quite comfortable to wear, the knuckle guards are also fit for close-quarter combat. “Why the sudden generosity?”
“Bishop asked me to, as a gift. Your birthday from last year, I think?” Harley shrugged nonchalantly, “I don’t understand her sometimes.” He mumbled to himself silently. “The structural design offers some level of kinetic deflection. It’s not Vibranium, but it should be strong enough to survive up to 5.56 rounds at maximum effective range.”
“Where’s Kate?” Peter deployed the other one on the right and tried them out with various peculiar movements he usually did when being Spider-Man. “Last I checked, she was done with the surgeries and recovering at Mister Barton’s farm?” Then he disengages and both return to their form.
“Mister Duquesne took her to the family’s estate in Tuscany, said the nature will do her good.” Harley has a contemplative look on him for a moment, then with a sigh he says “Look, I don’t like the idea, but Morg wants you to go to her birthday party, okay? Just…show your face there or whatever, for her sake.”
Both men looked at each other with a somber expression and a sense of long-lost friendship burnt off by miscommunication and distance, and the one who left nodded slowly in agreement.
[Manhattan, New York. Mid 2028]
[20th Precinct, Upper West Side]
“Can I have a phone call? I think I have that right to contact my lawyer or something, right?” Logan grumbled annoyingly at the policeman in front of him, smoking a cheap cigarette instead of his Columbian. Coffee is left untouched as he craves a stronger drink for the overwhelming smells bombarding his nostrils.
“…five minutes,” the officer demanded and slid the phone to his side of the stainless-steel table.
Logan punched the numbers in and waited about three rings before the other end answered. “Xavier…about that, I’m gonna need some help here…”
“Afternoon, officer.” A redhead opened the door to the investigation room with a disarming smile, a pair of tinted glasses sat atop her shapely face obscuring those mesmerizing emerald eyes and wearing her complimenting palettes of green and yellow. “Sleep.” She commanded simply with an utter, and the policeman dropped quickly into a slumber. Her eyes, scolding ones, turned towards the burly man who sat with an annoying smirk.
“Hey there, Red,” The flirtatious tone had become a trademark element of their interaction. He presents a pair of handcuffs to her and wiggles his brows “Know what to do with these?”
The redhead rolled her eyes and with a swipe of her hand the cuffs disassembled themselves, she then put them back together with another swipe and beckoned the smug Canadian to follow her out of the station.
The entire station went to sleep and possibly mind-wiped.
“Come on, Jean! We haven’t seen each other in years, and you won’t even talk to me?” Logan grumbled as he shadowed the redhead. She ignored the jab and led them to a coffee shop nearby, sitting opposite one another while waiting for their drinks.
“What happened?” Jean inquired, leaning against the cushion of her seat with her eyes locking on the disappointed look on Logan’s face.
“I tracked Raven down, but that Spider-boy intervened,” Logan grumbled without looking at her, taking a swig from his vintage flask. “Kid got some moves, strong as shit too. You sure he’s not a mutant?”
“Professor Xavier was certain; the Cerebro didn’t register him as one, and I trust Hank’s machine more than I trust you, so…” Jean plays a smirk on her beautiful face, eliciting a chuckle from the ferocious mutant. “He saved Mystique from you?” Jean did an air quote.
“…I don’t think the kid actively knew he saved Raven, more like butting in to help a random girl from someone like me.” Logan gestured to his burly and intimidating visage with a shrug. “He’s pulling his punches but stronger than what we knew.”
Jean thanked the owner for their orders and handed Logan his cup; black coffee that he will be spicing with whiskey later. “What did you learn about Mystique?”
“Not much, she’s working for someone, that much was clear. To whom, exactly? I can’t say yet.” Logan hummed in deep thought, nursing the spiked beverage down his throat while alternating his eyes between the pedestrians outside and the powerful telepath across the table. Calling her too young for him would be an understatement, but despite the constant animosity from her on-and-off boyfriend, Logan couldn’t help but be drawn towards Jean Grey. Her scent is intoxicating. Her touches are exciting.
His primal instinct wants to mark her, to establish a territory; urging him to take what he wants from that Summers boy, but Jean kept him at arm’s length; not quite rejecting his advances while keeping a sturdy wall around herself.
And he’s a sucker for that kind of thing.
“But I’m sure it has something to do with the four mutated in the news. If she’s still rolling with Magneto, I can probably guess their plans and motives, but now? None comes to mind.” Logan sighed deeply, taking the last swig of high-alcohol-level coffee.
“Hmm…” Jean hummed while leaning back, rubbing her chin tentatively. “We might have to list every associate she had, cross-referencing data to narrow the list down.” The redhead fished her phone out and quickly typed a message to all of her sources and informants. “Should I ask for someone else to help you with this case?” Logan quickly dismissed her proposal with a serious expression.
“I got this. The kids will only be a hindrance in dealing with someone as dangerous as Raven.” Logan fished a Columbian cigar from his jacket and lit it quickly, enjoying the suppressive smoke enveloping his sensitive nose.
“Sir! No smoking!”
“Get a bigger sign!” Logan barked back.
“You knew I detest smoking,” Jean scolded him.
“You have any idea how shitty it smelled inside of a jail cell?” Logan retorted with a raised eyebrow, omitting the other fact about her fragrances and musk driving him insane. “You got somewhere else to go? Or can we grab some real lunch?”
“Nice try, old man,” Jean smirked and stood up from her seat, placing bills on the table for both of them and approached him with her hand firmly placed on his muscled and gigantic shoulder. “We are nearby if you need any help, okay? And you might need to wrap this up if you don’t want Bobby to disassemble your bike.” Jean sent a teasing grin and started walking away.
“Tell that punk to stay away from my things!” Logan groaned loudly at her retreating form.
