Unlikely
Chapter 3
"Unlikely"
[Manhattan, New York. Mid 2028]
[Ravencroft Institute]
“We’ve got around thirty minutes before the Institute will be forced to acknowledge our presence,” Maria Hill informed her former mentor and commanding officer as she made her way past the threshold of an isolation chamber. “Forgive me, Nick, but is this the right thing to do?” inquired Maria Hill with furrowed brows, looking intensely at the back of the leather jacket-clad spymaster in front of her. The bald and older man in front of her stops in his steps, turning his head partially backward, using the eye-patch side, of course.
“Running the domestics for the Avengers made you soft, Agent Hill?” Asked Fury with his monotone delivery laced with guarded observation. “Need I remind you that the security of the world cares not about morality, but results?” The former director of SHIELD exudes intimidation even if he did not intend to.
“No need, sir,” Maria replied firmly, masking her doubts and discomforts deep within herself and following the path of Fury deeper into the section reserved for the worst of the patients. Rooms lining the hallway they had trek, plaques depicting names and small details adorned each of the steel doors, warning about the dangers that lurk inside them. Finally, after a minute or so, Fury stops in front of a particular door labeled as ‘John Doe #2’ which emanates faint sounds of scribble from inside, as if the occupant is noting into a journal. She watched as her C.O. seemed to be contemplating his own choice; a sight so peculiar she couldn’t believe herself, but it showed for only a fraction of a heartbeat before Nick Fury opened the door with a copy of the key. The creaking of the metallic pane sounded throughout the otherwise silent hallway, revealing the undecorated and simple interior of grayish cement and a single resident sitting on a worn and hard bed, nulling over a notebook with a pen in his hand.
The patient himself wore a jumpsuit similar to the standard issue of the institute but with a single distinct detail of a black bar streak across his torso from left to right, signifying the level of security required to interact with him. At first, the patient ignored them and continued with the collection of his thoughts until Fury cleared his throat quite demandingly, urging the patient to crane his neck upward and meet them with the nightmarish façade he wears. Maria Hill stammered backward a little at the sight of the third-degree burns that enveloped half of the patient’s face as well as the exposed jaw on that side, the eye glazed over and damaged beyond salvation from the intense heat, and the twitching and shaking of his hands and fingers indicate nerve damages to an extent. More than a shock, it was mostly a surprise to come across the face she thought would never reappear again according to Clint Barton. A flash of recognition shined on the good eye and a creepy smile spread across the mangled lips; the visage mixed with the singular bulb cast a terrifying image.
“Nicholas Joseph Fury…” Even the pronunciation of the name chilled the air inside the cell, Maria gulped silently when the crazed eye fell upon her next, “and his ever-faithful Maria Hill! Long time no see, both of you!” Doctor Octopus greeted them with mockery and faux hospitality despite his smiling mangled face and gestured for them to get comfortable as much as the single-unit residence Ravencroft provided would allow. “Tell me, are you here to finish Barton’s sloppy work? Had the great Fury stooped so low as to do the execution himself nowadays?”
Fury leaned against one of the walls while Maria took another, blocking the entryway of the room with their eyes trained on the provoking madman on the bed. Both produced concealed pistols equipped with advanced suppressors and casually pointed the barrels at the man in front of them. The mad doctor cackled at the show of hostility and leaned against the wall at his back, closing his notebook with a smirk on his face. “I missed the old showmanship as much as the next person, Nick, but spares me the theatrical and speak; I believe you don’t have much time?”
Fury exhaled in frustration and put away his gun, but gestured for Hill to keep hers out, then cleared his throat again before speaking. “Who’d you work for?”
Doc Ock perked at the question playfully, squinting his good eye like he was in deep thought before letting out a grating chuckle from his damaged vocal cord. “Why would I ever work under someone again after the betrayal I’ve faced with you and Pierce?” the ridicule oozed from his expression into his inquiry, directly irritating the ever-patience super spy. “The level of distrust and unwillingness to listen exhibited by both of you cleared my mind a long time ago, old friend. I work for myself and care only about my gain.”
“I came across a certain someone, Richardt. Someone whom you might have an interest in,” Fury harbored his trademark smirk on his face before producing a photo of a young woman bound to a metallic chair in a dark room with only a light bulb as the sole source of illumination to him, which quickly angered the composed patient like a matchstick to a puddle of gasoline. “Now, if you don’t want any harm to be done to Miss Teresa here,” Triumphantly said Fury as he relaxed his posture and tossed the photo towards the Mad Doctor, which was caught immediately. “I’d suggest you cooperate with me.”
In a fit of rage, Richardt crumbled the photograph under his shaking fingers with great difficulty after taking a good look to make certain that it was not fabricated. “…what do you want?” The tone shifted, and the demeanor deprived of any superiority or aloofness shown earlier. Despite being on the advantageous side of the conversation and the frail state he was in; Maria Hill couldn’t help but dread being in the same room as the angry doctor even with Fury around and her hands clutching the handle of a pistol. Then Fury produced a small envelope out of his hidden pocket and presented it to the inmate. “What agenda do you hold against these senators and representatives? Is SHIELD finally following our teachings as we hoped?” The glean of mockery made a comeback after the doctor read through some portions of the documents containing photographs and short notes of many US officials as well as the UN reps, mostly the ones related to the Avengers initiative and the World Council.
“Wipe that smug off your crispy face, Reinhardt.” Fury groaned in annoyance, leaning back against the wall before continuing, “All I can tell you now is that we need your help with this problem. Further details will be provided after you accept the terms.”
“Why must you go through the hassle of recruiting me, I wonder? What could be scary enough to ruffle Nick Fury?” Richardt Reinhardt mused mockingly at the superspy. “Could it tie to something political? Something severe enough in its completion that the necessity of including an enemy into your foll? I’m flattered, truly, to know that despite the years and the execution order, you are still thinking so highly of me.” The mad doctor smiled so sweetly that his monstrous façade gave off an uncanny image. “What are the terms aside from the mandatory premature release and political amnesty provided that I cooperate with you and your associates?”
“You got to spend time with your daughter, and maybe we can provide some form of treatment for your affliction,” Fury stated nonchalantly, only to be greeted by a cackle from the inmate.
“Why would I want to treat these wounds? It became a part of me, of who I became. It’s a reminder, Nicholas, I won’t let you take it away from me.” The mad doctor hostilely replied, turning defensive regarding the horrifying scars displayed on his body.
“I’m not talking about what's on the outside, Reinhardt, I couldn’t give two shits about how you looked like on a dating profile,” Fury dismissed the accusation, “I’m talking about here,” The superspy pointed at his head with his index finger, drumming it softly on the temple to emphasize his words. “The damaging pattern presented in your brain is not unique, I’ll tell you that much.” The revelation gave the mad doctor quite a shock and quite apprehensive of the offer, yet a sense of hope plays across the half-face of a man they once knew. “Help us stop this, and I can guarantee the restoration of your lost memories.”
[Tuscany, Italy. Mid 2028]
[The Duquesne Spring Villa]
“Hey, Clint?” Kate Bishop turned to her mentor after another arrow hit the target as intended. They are taking a vacation at Jack Duquesne’s villa in Tuscany, setting up a makeshift range as a part of physical therapy. The retired Avenger hummed an acknowledgment but kept his focus and arrowhead on his target, “You know who Doc Ock is, don’t you?” Her question made him falter a little and he missed his mark by an inch.
“What brought this up?”
“You seemed very shocked when I recalled what he said during my torture, at least that’s how Yelena made it out to be.” Kate loosened her quiver strap just a little, and the grip on the bow relaxed. “You know who he is?”
“What’s the matter, kid? He’s behind bars right now, knowing anything more about that man is pointless.” Barton goes for another arrow, and as he’s about to nocks it, Kate clears her throat loudly in demand. “Kate—”
“Do you know?” The question hung around them, cascading down a veil of discomfort. “We’ve been practicing for like an hour now, I think we have some time to talk.” Kate pressed on with a shrug of her shoulder and rested her bow against the wooden fence.
Barton took a deep and quick breath, then nocked an arrow, pulled smoothly with his shoulder, and released it between breathing. The arrow pierced with a thud at the center of the target before Barton let out a heavy sigh, turning towards his successor. “Spider-Man put you up to this?”
“No!” Kate quickly protested, cringing just a little at how Doctor Strange’s spell prevailed so adamantly despite the passage of time. “I just feel like I deserve to know the shithead who tortured me because he wanted to get back at my mentor, don’t I?” Kate pursed her lips and jutted her chin forward, crossing her arms over her chest and cocked her hip just a bit; the creamy-white sundress and wide brim hat she got on achieved the opposite atmosphere of intimidation.
The old Hawkeye sighed in reluctant defeat and collapsed his bow into its carriable form before turning to face his mantle carrier. “We worked together for a while. I was his C.O. back in the 1990s through the early 2000s, one of the smartest agents under Fury’s command.” He leaned on the fence and gestured for his successor to do so before continuing “In the end I had to terminate him because of the exposé connecting him to the HYDRA sleeper cells within SHIELD in 2003.” Clint Barton refused to look her way and opted to gaze further upon the hills and valleys of the Italian countryside. Although from the sideway perspective that he’d given her, Kate was able to discern a look of uncertain guilt in the retired Avenger’s hooded eyes. “I told you about the shot I didn’t take with Nat, right?”
“Yeah…” Kate trailed off after affirming his inquiry, her brows furrowed a little and she waited anxiously for what he had to say.
“I wish I gave Richard the same treatment, that way it might…” Clint Barton let out a grim chuckle with a sad smile. “I’m sorry he hurt you, Kate.” The former agent of SHIELD slowly turned towards his disciple with an apologetic look.
“Richard?”
“Yeah? That’s his name, or at least the name he took when coming to the US and infiltrating SHIELD, I supposed?”
“What did you do?” Kate pressed further, “He said something about making you feel the pain he’d felt…”
Silence. Silence with a load of guilt on his face gave her the opposite of hope.
“Clint…what did you do?” Kate, despite the lump forming in her throat, continued seeking the truth.
“I missed the shot…the only time it ever happened, and I killed someone who didn’t have to die.” Clint closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm his nerves; he did not know Mary Fitzpatrick that well, but Nat did, and it felt like he had torn something important from her. A friend, perhaps? One of the very few Natasha Romanoff managed to make in her life. “I killed his wife, and I left him to die on a burning plane.”
“...what?” She knew that Clint Barton was not a saint; he was a superspy and an assassin for one of the most secretive organizations in the world for crying out loud, but to hear him admitting to it like this is still disturbing.
“I know I was just following orders, but the choice was still mine to make. I can easily let them go; you know? I turned a Black Widow into SHIELD’s asset once, what’s a HYDRA scientist?” Kate felt her hands clutching the wooden fence tighter.
“The most fucked up thing was…I knew Mary had a kid just months before I took the assignment.” Clint said with a wavering voice, a prickle of tears forming in his eyes. “I thought they would have been all right even if I followed through with my order; that without Reinhardt, she’d be just fine to care for the kid. Nat would help, they’re friends, and she was so enamored with that little girl.” Failing to control the urge, Barton let the tears cascade down his aged face. “We tried, Me and Laura, you know? We tried looking for her after that, wanted to give her a family; the most important thing that I took away from her.” He continued with a disgusted expression, loathing himself. “Nat was so pissed at me we didn’t talk for years, but she told me that she kept looking as well; she wanted to adopt the poor thing, but years went by with not a single trace.”
Kate examined closely and witnessed her mentor slide down to the dirt, leaning against the wooden plank like a dying man. His eyes were red from tears and a grimace adorned his face. She doesn’t know what to do.
“We thought the relatives might know something, so we contacted Richard’s brother and the sister-in-law,” Clint held his head in his hands, tensing his whole being in the flood of emotions. “They didn’t know either.”
Kate kept silent.
“It took a year for me and Laura to stop, but Nat kept going. I don’t know if she found her or not, we never talked about Teresa again after that.” A passing display of a nostalgic smile, albeit an incredibly sad one, adorned his face just for a fleeting moment. A long stretch of eerily silence ended as the former Hawkeye returned to the villa, leaving a dumbfounded Kate Bishop at their makeshift range alone with her thoughts.
[Manhattan, New York. Mid 2028]
[Metro-General Hospital]
“Miss Stacy?” The nurse popped her head out of the examination room, called the name, and scanned her eyes around until they fell upon a sunflower-blonde petite woman in shades raising her hand, sitting beside a man with similar features, presumably a family member. Another woman nearby looks a bit more mature and quite stunning to look at. “The doctor will see you now, please follow me.”
“I can go alone, Sue. Stay here with Howard, please?” Gwen stopped the fair-haired beauty as she stood up and was about to follow her to the doctor as requested. The sunflower-blonde smiled reassuringly at the fair-blonde and made her way following the path led by a nurse earlier.
“…how’s your day, doctor Storm?” Howard awkwardly started a conversation with his sister’s role model and now pseudo-girlfriend, as well as another girlfriend of his sister’s boyfriend. Man, can it be weirder?
“Uneventful, Howard.” Susan shot her usual smile at the younger brother of Gwen Stacy and sighed a bit. “Yours?” The intense sapphire shade of her eyes and beautiful voice leave a brush of flush on the younger man’s cheeks.
“Um…yeah! It’s all right, you know? The study, exams, labs, those sorts of things.” Howard felt a bit nervous sitting just a seat away from the famous biochemist. “ESU’s Healthcare study was pretty advanced compared to others. I guess being one of OSCORP’s PR pieces has its perks, right?” His sarcastic comment earned a light chuckle from the biochemist.
“If you squinted enough, it was almost as if our mayor was Norman Osborn and not Harris. Do you remember the gala? Harris looks like one of Osborn’s assistants more than the host!” Susan joked lightly with the younger man. While smiling at the young man’s chuckle, Susan’s eyes caught sight of someone to her left and quickly greeted the newcomer with familiarity “Chrissy! Am I happy to see you!” Both women embraced each other with friendly smile.
“Susan Storm, what are you doing here?” Christine Palmer inquired after they retreated from one another.
“Just taking my friend to a check-up, she’s quite sick for days, I’m a bit worried.”
“Oh! Is it bad?”
“I can’t be sure, Chris, she’s quite stubborn in describing the symptoms.” Susan shrugged her shoulders at that and then turned her face towards a politely smiling Howard with a soft chuckle “This is her brother, Howard. Howard, this is my friend and former colleague, Doctor Christine Palmer.” The younger man quickly introduced himself and then Susan noticed a silver band on her friend’s ring finger with a surprised gasp. “Is that?”
“Oh. Yeah, I was just about to call you.” A chocolate-skinned man then walked up from behind the surgeon with a charming smile that compliments his style. “This is my fiancée, Charlie.” Christine happily announced and leaned a bit into the man of her choice, “Charlie, this is Susan Storm. She’s one of my friends from GRU (Global Relieve Union) during the Snap.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Doctor Storm. I’ve heard about your work from Christine. Quite impressed.”
“We last saw each other two years ago and you’ve secured yourself a fiancée already?” Susan teased a little.
“As if you are one to talk, Sue. Tatiana told me about that young gentleman you paraded about at Mayor Harris’s gala.” Christine retorted in good nature, both women shared a cackling fit. “Anyways, I was about to call you about the invitation.”
“Oh?”
“We decided to get married, well, Christine did.” Charlie chimed in, resulting in Doctor Palmer lightly smacking him on his shoulder, eliciting a lighthearted chuckle from the groom-to-be. “We would like to invite you and your companion to our wedding.”
“Quite a location,” Susan commented as she was inspecting the card and after a brief consideration, she decided to broach the subject “Would it be possible for me to bring more companions? Howard here would be delighted to attend an event full of medical experts, and my friend would love to be there as well.”
The fiancées looked at each other with a knowing look, exchanging a short conversation with nothing but eyes, then turned back towards the fair-haired beauty with reassuring smiles. “Of course, it was quite a small and private event, but I’m sure that we can allow that,” Charlie spoke with finality and a polite smile. The chocolate-skinned man then sent a sincere smile at the young Stacy “Be seeing you, then, Howard.”
“Thank you, Mister Charlie. Doctor Palmer.” Howard nodded with a baffled expression, still processing the request of Susan Storm and the implication of such an occurrence. Soon, the couple excused themselves to inform their colleagues.
“You’re welcome.” Susan winked at him and sat back down, waiting for Gwen’s examination.
Time passed for about ten minutes before the nurse poked her head out again and called for them to follow her. Susan contemplated whether to call Peter now but decided against it as she wanted to have more information first. As they follow the nurse, Howard scans the surroundings for on-site learning he favors rather than lecturing, akin to that time during the attack when he got a chance to do the real things. Susan and Howard reached the secluded chamber and were greeted by the sight of Gwen Stacy lying atop a recliner bed and a doctor still doing an ultrasound on her washboard stomach. The doctor gestured at both of them to sit down on the spare chairs before saying anything.
“Everything’s all right?” Howard asked anyone who would acknowledge him, alternating his eyes between his sister’s confusedly saddened expression and the doctor’s quizzical bafflement. “Gwen?” He diverted his attention to his sister, who was still in a tug-of-war between confusion and shock. “Doc?” he returned to the barely composed doctor who still alternated his furrowed brows and baffled expression between the monitor and the quiet sunflower blonde.
“Umm…I…I don’t…” the doctor stops the ultrasound procedure and lets out a heavy sigh, running his hand down his face and massaging his temple for a moment before clearing his throat and sitting up straight than before, making direct eye contact with the newcomers. “Clinically speaking, Miss Stacy shows signs of an early-stage pregnancy,” even though the information was received by both, the doctor still looks baffled.
Susan Storm gasped with her hand quickly covering her agape mouth, while Howard’s eyes bulged comically at that.
“You spoke as though you are not certain?” Susan, having the benefit of being the adult one among the trio, inquired with a look of confusion towards the doctor, awaiting the additional details that were yet to come.
“It’s…how should I put this…” The doctor leaned back a bit to recompose himself, before standing from his seat and approaching the big monitor at the opposite end of the bed, urging the two visitors and the patient to follow his movement. “Miss Stacy’s case is similar to Pseudocyesis; or False Pregnancy, but-” the doctor pointed at the highlighted anomalies for them “-there are signs of embryonic development, clearly indicating that there was an embryo formed before this visit.” He continues, hoping that the trio will keep up.
Susan, lacking the specific knowledge in the field, sits in her spot with bewilderment and headache. Howard, however, followed the doctor quite better. Yet, his confusion was no less than anyone's.
“The analysis suggested that the embryo should be around 3 weeks old, which is why I am at a loss of its sudden disappearance such as this.” Then he brings up toxicology reports and blood analysis reports, spreading them around the flat 32-inch-wide screen. “No traces of contraceptives of any kind. No foreign chemicals. No narcotics. No physical traumas. Nothing!” Losing a bit of his professionalism, the doctor spread his arms around and shrugged his shoulders in frustration. “How in the h—” He caught himself and cleared his throat before turning to them with an apologetic gesture. “Apologies.”
“What?” Susan finally found her voice and blurted. “I’m…what?” she turned her confused expression towards the sunflower-blonde, who was as lost as she was, if not more.
“That’s…impossible?” Howard followed on his own, but his eyes were barely able to tear away from the screen, raking through all the reports with his incomplete medical knowledge, which yielded more frustration than clairvoyance.
“Pseudocyesis stems from mental stress or hormonal irregularities, causing the patient to develop a sense of pregnancy or suspecting one falsely, but this is not Pseudocyesis; at least not the usual case!” The doctor continued, while Susan felt the weak hand from Gwen asking to be held and she responded immediately. “This is a disappearance of a developing embryo, and nothing indicated the process of embryo resorption either.”
“Doctor, please keep calm.” Susan quickly fished her phone out and rang a contact named Tatiana. “Tia? Please come to examination room 14D.”
Not long after, a Black woman walked in with confusion and a sense of urgency, looking around until her eyes fell upon Susan Storm. “What’s the meaning of this, Sue? Why did you call me here?”
“I need you to discharge Gwen Stacy and instruct your colleague about discretion.” Susan quickly replied to the question with an air of authority rarely seen from her, urging Howard to help Gwen off the recliner. “And please, wipe this visitation history off the database.”
“Why?” The doctor inquired with even more confusion but was ignored completely by the fair-haired beauty.
“Any specific reason?” Having been collaborating for years during the cataclysm, Tatiana learned to trust the brilliant biochemist’s decision almost immediately, yet she couldn’t rein in her curiosity.
“I need to confirm something, but I can’t do it here. I need to return to my lab.” Clarifying the reason, Susan quickly led the Stacy siblings toward the entrance. “I’ll call you as soon as I have anything to tell, okay?”
“Good afternoon, Doctor Storm.” Nathaniel’s monotonous voice greeted them as soon as Susan touched her access card at the scanner, “May I help you?”
“Prepare laboratory F3 and get Mister Richards on the line.” The fair-haired biochemist quickly instructed the AI and herded the siblings into the lift, “Can you contact Helen Cho for me, by any chance?”
“Pete said she’s still off-world with the Guardians,” Gwen interjected weakly, still hugging her stomach like something was missing and leaning a bit on her brother for support.
“…okay.” Susan breathed out while massaging her temple and raised her head towards the interface of the AI up at a corner. “That’ll be all, Nathaniel, thank you.”
“Acknowledged.” The AI replied with a beep, before ascending them via the shaft towards the designated floor. As they were making their way towards the lab, the intercom connected Reed Richards’s video call with the central monitor inside. Susan quickly opened the lab and ushered the blonde siblings inside before sealing the entrance per procedure.
“Sue?” The CEO inquired with a confused expression, a mob of red hair flitting nearby in the vicinity of the camera. “What’s the urgency?”
“Mister Richards, would you mind if we converse in private?” Susan implied to the third party on his end, a woman not older than her judging from a passing glance, copper-red hair with green eyes masked under a pair of glasses.
“Okay…” Reed Richards retreated from the phone a little. “Miss Orlova, mind leaving the room for a bit? I have an important call to make, and please inform Victor that I might be late for dinner.” A moment later, a door shut firmly, and Reed Richards returned to the call. “Now we are private.”
“Thank you,” Susan sent him an appreciative smile, a bit tight and thin, and proceeded to collect a blood sample from Gwen in quick succession with Howard’s help. “I have something that might require your intelligence.” With the upgraded hardware, the analysis process was done far quicker. “I’ll share the data with your tablet.” She uplinks the report via RAC’s satellite straight to Reed Richards’s device.
“Pregnancy?” Inquired Reed Richards with confusion, as to why a pregnancy of Gwen Stacy should require his intellect; some complications have been foreseen, after all, considering the differences between Spider-Man’s and the young blonde’s genetic structures. “Should I congratulate you or anything?” His question was laced with no mocking or sarcasm, he was utterly confused. His eyes quickly skimmed through the analyzed data until he stopped at a particularly strange one. “Sue, bring up this one.” And she did, while he inspected the simulated model attentively. “A virus?”
“No, the exo-structure does not comply, but…” she started a cross-referencing process between the discovered component with human RNA. A while later the result came with a horrifying revelation. “I thought I’d seen something similar before…maybe back when I was with the GRU.”
“What is it?” Gwen inquired in hopelessness, trying to stand on her own without Howard’s support.
“Something resembling RNA, but not quite…” Susan gave her best answer while trying to discern the puzzle. “Have you seen anything like this before?” She inquired about the super-genius at the other end of the communication.
Reed Richards slowly shook his head, but the determination in his eyes never wavered. “I couldn’t think of one off my head, but maybe I’ve documented some in the database?”
“Nathaniel?”
“Yes, DoctorStorm?” The AI quickly responded.
“Cross-reference this model with the RAC database as well as WHO and CDC; I want everything.”
“Certainly.”
Susan sighed heavily, and turned to Reed, “I’ll call you again if the results are here.” She saw the CEO and her employer nodded once and he cut the communication. “Meanwhile…are you comfortable with spinal fluid harvesting? A thorough analysis might tell us something.” Susan approached the devastated Gwen Stacy, reassuringly squeezing the cold hands of the petite blonde, wanting to gather the smaller woman into a hug. A moment later, Gwen nodded her head softly with a meek ‘yes’ as a reply. “You mind helping me, Howard? It’s a great learning experience.”
“Happy to help, Doctor Storm.” The younger Stacy replied with a nod and followed her instructions diligently. He placed his hand firmly on Gwen’s shoulder, trying to calm her down and offering his support before administering an anesthetic infused with propofol via respiratory, watching the heartbreaking eyes of his sister slowly closing.
[Manhattan, New York. Mid 2028]
[The Zenith Club]
“You sure you can handle that?” Felicia, dressed in a black strapless crop top and a pair of form-fitting cream jeans, asked with a hidden concern at the drunk brunet in front of her. It’s not a sight she thought she’d see tonight; Peter Parker, Spider-Man, sitting at a bar and downing shots of whiskey like there’s no tomorrow. His hazel eyes were so dark she almost didn’t recognize him when he took a seat an hour ago. She had discreetly diluted his drinks for a while now, and to her delight, the man’s inexperience was none the wiser.
“Keep ‘em coming.” Despite the amount that should have put someone to sleep by now, he requested another from the platinum-haired bartender; oh, the irony of the city’s sentinel taking a drink in one of the Kingpin’s establishments; Jameson would kill for a scoop like this.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Peter.” Felicia sighed deeply and poured another shot with her back turned to him, mixing whiskey with iced water, and spun around graciously to place the glass in front of him. She watched with a grimace as the man who claimed himself as not a fan of intoxicating beverages chugged the liquid down like a fish gulping the water for oxygen.
“Leesh?” Isabella, her chosen partner to bartend, whispered to her when they got close enough while both perusing the shelves for their ordered drinks. “Someone you know?” The redhead gestured towards Peter with squinted eyes and a hint of a smirk on her full lips.
“Who?”
“That sad cutie over there? The one with a fitted shirt?” Isabella nudged her friend playfully with her shoulder and let out a giggle when Peter winked at her. “Just asking, you know? So that we won’t be crossing some lines here?” That hopeful little spark in the redhead’s eyes elicited a groan out of the platinum-blonde.
“We…know each other. Met on a job, once,” Felicia shrugged her shoulder with a nod to herself; it’s not a lie.
“Just an acquaintance?”
“Sort of?”
“Don’t mind if I do!” Isabella made for a pass but got stopped by Felicia’s grip on her shoulder.
“I am not, but that blonde definitely will.” Felicia pursed her lower lip at the incoming furious frame of Susan Storm. The mutated woman making a beeline for Peter at the bar, almost shoved a tipsy patron away after he tried to have a chat with her.
“Aww…” Isabella deflates with a pout and returns to her work, while Felicia does the same.
“Can I have another, Fel?” Peter gave her a drunken smile, but Felicia firmly shook her head, denying his request. “Why? I got the cash. I’m not broke anymore, you know?” He snipped slurry, clumsily reaching for bills in his pocket.
“I think you had enough, Peter.” Susan scolded him from the side and planted her shapely frame just an arm’s reach at his right. Her arms crossed over her modest chest and her eyes narrowed with a disapproval glare at her boyfriend and the bartender.
“Huh?” Peter slowly turned his head sideways to the source of chiding, and he took about a second of squinting his eyes until a recognition dawned on him. “Sue!” He reached for her quickly and drew her in by the waist, a little bit too forceful due to the intoxicating state he was in. He has a delirious smile plastered on his face and nuzzles into the blonde’s chest, disregarding the publicity. “Want some? My treat!”
“No.” she simply replied and then turned towards the platinum-blonde behind the black marble bar island, her eyes squinted, and lips pressed into a thin line. “How much did he have?” While talking with Felicia, Susan pushes Peter’s drunken face away from her body, hoping to maintain some decency for herself in the public eye. Still, her boyfriend seems to have forgotten about the use of his super-strength as he keeps advancing against the strain of her arms. “Peter! Stop it!”
“You want technical or factual amount?” The platinum-haired bartender got a smirk on her dark lips as her hands kept cleaning the glass with a towel. “About fifteen. Whiskey.” She replied while slipping a receipt toward the waiting hand of the smaller blonde. “Cash or card?”
“Put it on my tap,” Susan replied with a sigh, making for a haul with her arm under Peter’s armpit to lift his taller frame off the wooden stool.
“Want some help with that?” Felicia perked her brow at the scene, registering the amount and tax into an account as instructed. She made for an assist without thinking but stopped as another man appeared from the entrance, one quite attractive if she might add, and made his way to Susan Storm’s side, casually retrieving the drunken slur mess of a Spider onto his arms.
“Can I add a bottle of water to the tap as well, Miss Hardy?”
Felicia chuckled a bit and tossed the requested item expertly at the older woman, “It’s on the house.” They nodded at each other and soon the drunken Spider-Man was out of the building.
“Are you into the girlfriend, or that hot blonde?” Isabella nudged her again and Felicia snorted before palming the redhead’s face away playfully. As soon as she returned to the station, a man who got shoved by Susan Storm earlier sat down on Peter’s spot and gave her a flirty smile.
“Anything specific?” Felicia inquired casually and politely smiled back with a corporate smile.
“I don’t know, maybe you can recommend something?” A bill of cash was placed softly onto the marble surface and Felicia hummed and took the payment then started working on the drink. “This place looks nice.” He started a conversation in which the platinum-haired bartender only hummed in acknowledgment.
“New in town?” She turned around and deftly served a cocktail of gin and tonics.
“What gave it away?” The man with neatly kempt slicked-back dirty blonde hair and a simple yet branding mahogany shirt inquired with the usual charming smirk, sipping the cocktail while keeping eye contact with the beautiful bartender and her distinct hair color.
“Everyone knows the Zenith starts a good drink with a little more monetary investment than what you just did.” Felicia shrugged her shoulders with a polite corporate smile. “Don’t worry, rookie mistakes.” Felicia winked playfully at him and returned to tending her bar and other customers while the man took his drink.
“Who’s the blonde from earlier? The one that left with the drunk guy?” The man asked her as soon as she returned to his position for another order.
“Something you like?” Felicia teased a little; it comes as no surprise that Susan Storm is quite a remarkable sight, especially under the dim and vivid light of a nightclub despite the woman’s insistence to dress very modestly.
“Well, I’m a guy and she’s beautiful. It’s a shame that her boyfriend was a drunkard. She deserves so much better than that.” There’s a hint of conviction behind those eyes and a confident smirk he harbored irritatingly rubs Felicia the wrong way.
“Whatever you say, man.” She served him another drink and was about to take orders from the others when he introduced himself.
“I’m Miles. Nice to meet you.”
“Sara.” Felicia indulged a bit and returned the gesture as much as she was comfortable with. “What are you doing in Manhattan, Miles?” She continued the conversation out of boredom when she returned to him for another mix.
“Weekend vacation; I just got a new job at Harvard, my friends wanted to hang out a bit before work takes me hostage, as they put it.”
“What’s the job if you don’t mind me asking?”
“An assistant professor,” Miles proudly announced with a toast of his cocktail glass.
“I don’t have to be present, do I? Not a fan of your scoldings; grating my nerves every time by how much you resembled our father doing it.” Johnny quipped from his driver seat, aiming at his sister on the passenger while alternating between the traffic and the rearview, observing the still drunk Peter Parker in the back seat.
Susan sighed with annoyance, but kept her composure, before approaching her irritating little brother by being civil. “How was your job?”
“How was my job?”
“Jonathan, please be a dear and just answer the bloody question,” Susan groaned with a roll of her eyes.
“Hard time finding out your precious little boyfriend has been drinking?” The younger Storm teased still, receiving the too-familiar thud of his sister’s hand swatting onto his shoulder; quite firmly he might add. “You and your physical torment tendency, Susan,” Johnny jabbed again. “I yield! I yield.” He conceded immediately after his sister’s eyes narrowed dangerously at his incessant teasing. He turned towards the road leading to RAC, “The environment is quite enjoyable, and the pay was not too shabby.”
“Who came up with Human Torch?” Susan pressed on, trying to keep a conversation alive with her brother. They weren’t always on good terms since the death of their father, but he is still a family.
“A senior, name’s Caleb,” Johnny replied and made a brief stop before continuing the drive, his eyes never left the road, but a hint of a smile also plastered on his lips. “Said I reminded him of some character back in the 50s. From some advertisement comics of Captain America, if you can believe it.” Johnny chuckled while making another turn, drawing closer to the company where his sister is employed.
“What’s that about Cap?” the voice from the back seat joined them, a bit hoarse yet bared no sign of slurring or intoxication. “Ugh…I’m so sweaty.” Susan turned from her seat back towards the vigilante with a perked eyebrow, questioning his inhumanely recovering time to get sober considering the amount of alcohol he’d taken. “Enhanced metabolism; It burns through toxins and alcohol. Pretty neat, right?”
“I do envy and pity you at the same time, Parker.” Johnny quipped from his seat as he slowly parked the car in front of the imposingly tall structure. “Maybe it’s better to be drunk when Sue is this mad.” The blond pyromancer cackled and ushered the couple to depart. The couple kept silent as they made their way inside the reception hall, and into the lift cargo with Peter instinctively being a gentleman as always.
“What’s going on with you, Peter? You’ve never been one to get stupid drunk like that.” Susan chided him with her arms crossed over her torso, presenting a gap between them out of the detest she harbored for the stench of whiskey on his breath. The vigilante who is being questioned, however, refuses to look at anything but the running number indicating which floor they are on at the moment. “Peter?”
“It’s…complicated, Sue. I’ll tell you and Gwen soon, okay? Just need some time to…process it.” Peter let out a forced reassuring smile at the fair-haired woman. “Sorry for doing something embarrassing.” He weakly chuckled apologetically, referring to his nuzzling attempt from earlier.
“This is not you,” Susan sighed, massaging the bridge of her nose for a moment, “I thought we made a deal to not keep things from one another?”
“I’ll explain everything, just not now.” Peter reflected again with a finality in his voice, uncanny to what he used to do but Susan decided to drop the subject just for the time being; there are other chances, and despite his easygoing nature Peter can be such a stubborn person if he wanted to be. “Bring me up to speed?” He deviated quickly after Susan accepted his reasoning with a nod. “You said something about Gwen…” The door to the lap opened and Peter’s heart raced through the roof, almost bursting out of its cage as he spotted Gwen Stacy crawling on the ceiling. “I…what…how the…WHAT!?” Peter hopelessly alternates his quizzical expression between Susan, Howard, and the wall-crawling Gwen.
“It’s quite lengthy of an explanation,” Susan offered with a sheepish grin. “Summarized; Gwen was mutated by multiple factors, one of which was your…gamete.” The biochemist elaborated with a tinge of red on her cheeks, biting her lips while watching Peter’s confusing expression turn into pure bafflement.
“Gamete?” at a complete loss, Peter’s brain shut down temporarily.
“Your sperm cells, Pete; you gave my sister Spider-AIDS,” Howard couldn’t hold in the snickers, but he let out a yelp as Gwen threw her sock at the younger Stacy.
Sufficed to say; Peter fainted.
“…run that through me again?” Peter massaged the bridge of his nose for the tenth time since he came to, and Susan explained the significance of Gwen’s newly developed powers.
“We found three components that could contributed to Gwen’s mutagenic development inside her body; a mutation similar in structure and behaviors to yours.” Susan started again with a set of simulated models. “Semi-Blood, developed by Doctor Michael Morbius as a substitute for rare blood type supplements in surgery and treatment; can also be used to accelerate cellular reproduction. Gwen must have gotten it into her system after the shooting.”
“Speculatively, due to the reproductive cells that Gwen received from you,” Susan bit her lower lip to restrain a laugh as Peter and Gwen showed similar shades of red on their flushed faces, looking awkwardly at one another. “Some of the mutated cells were absorbed and thus contributed as a mutational signature for the last component to take advantage of.” Peter just facepalmed himself with a flustered groan.
“Please continue.” Peter urged Susan with an uncontrollable chortle at the absurdity of the situation.
“Lastly, an unknown component, that was administered into her body via unknown means, altered her cells through a similar method as CRISPR using existing mutagenic properties already presented inside and mutated her eventually.” Then Susan plays a simulation for them again.
The Semi-Blood structures mixed with Peter’s mutated cells and rapidly replicated themselves, and then the third component found the cluster and merged with it, kickstarting the mutation within Gwen.
“Again, this is just a speculation given our limited resources.” Susan finished the demonstration and approached the couple on the platform, “We need to do a more in-depth analysis.” The biochemist slotted herself between the Spider duo, “For example, we are still clueless about one particular anomaly.”
“What anomaly?” Peter inquired with confusion, alternating his quizzical expression between the two blondes of different shades. The fair-haired biochemist harbored a blue on her stunning face, meanwhile, the sunflower-haired geneticist expressed a combination of strange frustrations; effectively worrying and confusing the brunet genius even more. “I mean, getting spider-powers from having sex was already an anomaly in itself, right?” Peter delivered his confusion with a bit of a scoff at the absurdity of it all, and he felt Gwen’s hand swatting onto his shoulder with considerably more force compared to back when her muscles weren’t as enhanced as now. “Ouch?”
“Don’t say it so openly, you idiot! It’s embarrassing!” Gwen’s face blushed pink with squinted eyes but the silly grin on her lips couldn’t be tamed.
“You might wanna tune your muscle exertion a bit, babe. Spider-strength, remember?” Peter cheekily reprimanded her without malice; it indeed stings a little more than what he used to, but it was nowhere near some of Rhino’s slaps that landed on him before. “Just ease into it a bit until we figure out the parameter of your strength, all right?” Peter smiled sweetly at the sunflower-blonde and turned his gaze back on Susan, pressing again about the mentioned subject earlier. “What anomaly?” Concern graced her symmetrical face and her eyes cast aside towards Gwen with a heavy air hanging around them.
It took them quite a while until Gwen sighed heavily with uncertainty tainting her freckled face, her brows furrowed as her lips pressed into an inverse curl. “There’s this…thing a doctor found when we were at a hospital earlier.” Said Gwen with a waver in her voice, eyes squinted almost shut, looking shyly and nervous in his direction. “I guess it has something to do with the alteration done to my body.”
“What is it?” inquired Peter in an absolute state of confusion and dread.
“It looked like I had a developed embryo inside my womb,” Clarified the sunflower blonde with her eyes sending a confused and nervous glance in her boyfriend’s direction, her hand clutched Susan’s tightly, seeking anchor and comfort she felt against the unknown brought to light.
Peter was left stunned in his seat, eyes widened with mouth agape, shivers running down his spine and almost falling off the edge of the platform they were sitting upon. His brain short-circuits itself for a moment but simultaneously runs millions of thoughts through its fleshy structure to cope with the information, making scenarios about how he should react and planning the future regarding the new addition to their lives; should he completely abandon the mask and the costume altogether and fully focusing on taking care of Gwen and their children? The city needs a protector but he’s hardly the only one who is up to the task; Daredevil and the Defenders can keep things under control. There are the CRUD agents from Oscorp who work well with the police despite his distrust toward Norman Osborn. There are also the Avengers if things get out of hand. Maybe when the time comes, Spider-Man might have to quit being a vigilante for good, right? He won’t let his children experience the same pain and misery he had, not if he can help it; hopefully the offer from Tony’s will is still good…
Until a semblance of logical thinking catches the implication of her words. “Looked like?” asked Peter in quite a nervous wreck that he found himself in, but still keeping his calm and posture as best he could. “What’d you mean by that?” Emotionally charged, his question came a bit demanding and harsher than intended.
Sighing heavily, again, Gwen displayed a mix of uncertainty and a hint of relief on her face as she turned her head towards him before she decided to speak, “It’s just the Pseudocyesis, you know? False pregnancy caused by mental stress or hormonal irregularities?” She gave him as much as she could without dwelling on another ridiculously devastating possibility she came up with not so long ago, one that quenched her heart and made her want to vomit. “Sue ran a test, well, tests in fact, and we concluded that the symptoms came from those factors we discussed earlier; the mutagenic agent must have left an alteration trace in my reproductive organ, made it look like I was pregnant.” Gwen tried to be sure about her explanation, luckily out of the two she was always the one who was better at lying, in part because she also wanted this explanation to be true.
A thoughtful expression adorned the vigilante’s face, his eyes cast aside as his brain worked overtime making the connections that Susan and Gwen provided comprehensible, then making peace with the fact that despite his vast fields of knowledge, the deeper understandings of genetic engineering were not his strongest forte as much as physics and technical mechanics. “Yeah…that…make sense?” Peter trailed off with an unsure look on his face, still trying to solve this puzzle even though Gwen might be more capable than he is regarding the topic; he’s a very curious Spider, what of it? “Anyways, how are you feeling? I remember it was quite…intense when I got mutated by the spider bite.”
“Um…like…the sounds and lights are somehow irritating, you know?”
“Oh, yeah! Definitely! Our sensory organs were enhanced and more susceptible to stimuli; that’s one of the reasons I had to partially impair my sights with the lenses as Spider-Man.” Replied Peter with a smile on his face, “Funny, it was like my body wanted to compensate for the lack of eyes by making the retinas more sensitive rather than sprouting more six of them on my face.”
“That was a horrifying image, dude! Don’t say that!” Gwen threw a pen at him, but Peter effortlessly caught it in his hand via the Spider-Sense. “Wait, does that mean I will be able to smell more, too?” the sunflower blonde broached the question and immediately scrunched her nose and inhaled the air around herself, determined to find out.
“I’m not so sure about that. The conditions were very different between us; I got bit and turned, which made me the progenitor of the mutated genes that changed you. If anything, I’d say your changes might be milder and less drastic than mine, aside from the adhesion property, I mean.” Peter approached the petite woman and draped his arm around the curve of her waist before taking both of them up to the ceiling with an effortless jump, twisting midair to have their feet landed on the surface. “I didn’t ask before, but how did it feel sticking upside-down like this? Any strains or difficulty?” he searched her eyes and face, determined to detect anything peculiar on the lovely face of the woman.
“I think I can stick with my feet and hands just fine,” Confirmed Gwen with a reassuring smile and gestured for Peter to let go of her, making a show of standing sturdily on her feet. “I still can’t explain why we can do this; it doesn’t seem scientifically possible!” exclaimed the blonde with excitement and glee, looking at her palms and the connection between her feet and the ceiling. She starts walking around with careful steps and some disorientation, watched carefully by the more experienced Spider at her side.
“I have some theories, but you can disregard the dry adhesion effect; I checked, and there are no microscopic hairs like spiders have. That way it wouldn’t be possible for me or you to stick to a surface with any type of clothing on, let alone shoes.” Clarified Peter with a passive expression as he flipped to do a reverse handstand and maneuvered himself around Gwen with little to no strain on his muscles from the freakish gymnastics. “Superpowers are weird, like, how can you explain Thor’s relation with high-voltage electrical discharge that he can ‘summon’ from the sky or even that hammer of his? Or the additional biomass Doctor Banner gains whenever he turns into the Hulk? It just works sometimes; like a Chinese-Japanese hybrid dish, or whatever inventions I found in Mister Richards’s archive.” Peter shrugged his shoulders playfully, and weirdly due to the perspective of his upside-down-up body in her eyes. A giggle sounded from below as Susan was amused by the comment regarding the intelligence of their employer.
“True, that.” Gwen nodded along with his reasonings and started to feel sore in her calves after another roundabout of walking on the ceiling. “How did you do it all the time? I almost got a clamp from just walking.” Inquired Gwen as she crouched to flatten her hands in an attempt to lessen the strain on her legs, she felt a bit better after that.
“Lots of yoga, stretches, calisthenic exercises, and ballet.” Clarified Peter with a grin as he effortlessly shifted between his hands and feet demonstrating his superior flexibility and endurance. “You’ve gotta do a lot of practice if you wanna be as cool as me, baby.” Peter ended his boasting with the imitation of Ash Williams and by hanging himself using the fingertips of his right hand, completely weighing his entire body on them which flexed his biceps and forearm beautifully.
Susan watches with an arched eyebrow as the Spiders draw closer to one another in their peculiar positions; Peter holding himself up by one arm and Gwen tentatively crawling closer to him. Their faces stopped just inches from each other’s as the world seemed to cease existing in their minds, then Gwen drew closer still to Peter’s eager lips and finally the sunflower blonde took what was hers in an upside-down fashion rarely possible if not for this surprising discovery.
The kiss was nothing surprising between them, it was merely adding to the collection of hundreds they’d shared, yet it somehow felt so different than those that transpired in the past and very distinct in that manner only she’d ever encountered with him; eager with a tinge of restriction, like a sailor that tied himself to a mast of the ship against the alluring call of the sirens in mythos and tomes, fearing the consequences of indulging. Having experienced just a portion of what he can do by herself, Gwen now understands the many remarks her beloved Spider-Man made when talking about the struggle to blend with the fragility of normal humans around him and the effort he had to put in while stopping the criminals through the years without seriously injured them like a toddler breaking a twig without care.
“Don’t hold back…” Whispered hotly into their shared breaths, Gwen curled her lips a little as she heard a faint grunt of acknowledgment coming out of his throat and his hand came up behind her head, gathering a fistful of her golden mane, and applying the pressure that would hurt ordinary human into their intimacy. Gwen was uncertain of the Change she’d found out earlier, but now some carnal part of her monkey brain elated at the possibilities with the kind of strength and durability she harbored akin to Peter’s. Gwen moaned with excitement into his throat when she felt the tightness of his fist and the way he pulled her hair with just enough strength.
“You know Nathaniel records everything inside the lab, right?” Teased Susan from below with an amusing smirk on her pink-glossed lips, arms crossed over her modest busts and her hip cocked to one side, looking at the exchange of passion between the two. Her remark seemed to stir Peter awake from his clouded trance with a nervous chuckle, he then took Gwen in his arm again and detached himself from the ceiling before landing on the lab’s floor with dexterous balance. Gwen blushes red and refuses to look at the older blonde while Peter’s hand never leaves the small of her back, and she enjoys the warm touch, nonetheless.
“Sorry, I totally forgot about that!” Offered Peter with nervous chuckles, scratching the back of his head with a blush.
[Manhattan, New York. Mid 2028]
“Logan?” The familiarity in the calling stopped the burly mutant in his track, turning back towards the caller with pinpoint accuracy due to his heightened senses. He met with the unfamiliar face of a tall man dressed in a form-fitting polo and a pair of slacks that accentuated his physique. “Don’t remember me? I’m Ben! Ben Grimm!” the man introduced himself and left Logan in quite a whiplash; to say that he looked different would be an understatement as the last time they saw each other Ben Grimm was notoriously known as The Stone Giant or the Thing to the public and looked the part as well. Now he looked like the photo of his time as the NASA pilot back in the day as shown by news outlets and online threads after the discovery of the Four following the end of Manhattan’s Siege; slicked-back dark hair, tan skin, appropriate muscles just to told you about his history in the military and his outgoing lifestyle, and the smile that was not clouded by self-loathes.
The happy man approached him, and Logan was a bit reprehensive about it, partly because it could be one of Mystique’s tricks to assume the appearance of the man himself until he was close enough. The mutant’s sensitive nose caught a whiff of Ben Grimm’s distinctive scent, which he remembered from the drinks they shared. “How in the fuck?” Logan chuckled under his gravel voice as he accepted the offered hand to shake.
“It’s not easy, I’ll tell you that much!” Ben Grimm replied with a joyous laugh, gesturing for the burly and shorter man to continue down the road with him in toll. The bustling air of NYC’s evening air swirls around them and all the pedestrians as the Sun itself nearly disappears behind a tall obscuration of the OSCORP building at the horizon. “I found…someone who was willing to help me!” The former pilot offered with a sincerely grateful smile directed at whomever he was referring to and kept walking alongside Logan.
“Hmm.” Logan acknowledged simply, nursing the unlit cigar between his lips and teeth just to savor the bitterness of the fermented tobacco inside, somehow didn’t feel like smoking as the melting body of a little girl still clinging to the back of his mind despite the days and nights that transpired. It’s strange in the fact that the death in itself has such a hold on him, of all his centuries of living he’d ever mourned and remembered few people, all of them were close friends and loved ones, but never a stranger like this; it’s as if there’s a connection, he doesn’t know about between himself and the juvenile mutant-clone. He planned to get into the deeper layer of the city but postponed it for a little while Ben Grimm is with him; the man is just a regular human now and can’t be exposed to the deadly underworld he frequents. “Good for you, Ben. I’m glad.” Logan sincerely offered with a bit of his reluctant smirk.
“You in a hurry or something? I’m going for a drink with my old buddies.”
Someone who can reverse the mutation effects sounded shady as hell, and Logan has a notion that this might be what he needs in his hunt for Raven, even if it means exploiting Ben Grimm’s naively offered friendship. So, he nodded in affirmation then tucked his cigar back into his leather jacket’s breast pocket and followed the taller man to his destination. The trail led them to a portside dive near the coastline of the west side of the island, presumably one of the Kingpin’s places alongside other dozens throughout the city after the fall of the Maggia. The friends in question are ex-Air Force militaries and NASA employees that Ben Grimm might have gathered from his time in both organizations, generic as they go for a group of vets and physicists.
The meeting went by pretty tamed, just strong drinks here and there with occasional games and reminiscences of deployment stories and exploits, with Logan sharing some of his obscured war tales from the American Civil War towards the Cold War, with masked stories and various of fake names, of course; especially of those in Team-X alongside him as some of them are still alive, namely Victor Creed.
And no one needs to make an acquaintance with that son of a bitch if he can help it.
So, he goes on and on about the stories until most of the buddies check out, and he is left with Ben Grimm, listening to the slightly slurred singing from the redheaded darling on the stage, Logan can finally do some research on his own.
“Hey, Ben?”
“Huh? Wha…. what is it?”
“I’m kinda curious about this savior of yours. Kinda wanna know if I can meet him too?”
“Why? You got a…problems about yourself or something?” the former pilot whispered with a slur, leaning closer as if trying to keep a secret.
Logan adopted a more solemn and frustrated look on his ruggedly handsome gruff face, chewing tentatively at the butt of a new cigar as he didn’t feel like springing one of his talons to do the job -enjoying the savory and stiff taste he favors; thanks to Charles’s considerate gift of a whole boxset of the Columbians, that is. That man can read minds so well- and turned the saddened eyes at the former stone giant. “I’m working at a private school. History and PE,” Logan started with a hint of a smile, recalling the chaotic daily routine of Xavier’s school with all the hormonal teenagers and dramatic children, as well as the collection of groan-worthy adults conglomerated under the same roof. It truly is a recipe for disastrous headaches, yet somehow, they are what he would call friends. “There’s this girl, Anne, she’s a delight to all around her; funny, hotheaded, outgoing, a bit of a party monster. But she has a problem that affects her heavily, I wanna help her.” His mind rushed to the very distinct shade of hair, the curly auburn locks streaked with white, and the masked bravado face of Anna-Marie with her smartass one-liners delivered in the thickest southern accent he’d ever heard uttered from anyone, and the occasions that he’d see her puffy eyes during classes or the quiet conversations she’d held with Kitty Pryde. “Seeing how you are right now, I wanna ask the person who saved you if they can do something to help that girl out. She deserves a normal life.”
The silence stretched around them despite the bustling bar and people around them, Ben Grimm contemplates deeply the request that borderlines a plea coming from the burly man in front of him. Another pair of beers went by before Ben concluded and then produced a black card from his pocket to Logan with reluctance. “Call the number. They’ll set up a meeting.” Ben handed the card to the burly man or a caring teacher by the regaling he’d just heard, “I hope it helps, Logan.” The sincerity in the man’s voice stings a little at his old heart, a sense of disgust swelled within his body at the reality that he’d just exploited good faith; something he doesn’t get as easily as he got with Ben Grimm.
[Westview, New Jersey. Late 2023]
[One year before the Liberty Isle Incident]
With the stop of her car, Wanda felt like the secluded bubble of comfort inside the cushioned interior and the A/C has also come to an end, and the grayish reality outside the metallic cargo beckons her with poisonous whispers. The envelope sitting on the passenger seat glared at her like a scolding parent with a piece of their mind waiting to be heard whether she liked it or not.
“What did you want to show me here, Viz?” The auburn-haired woman mumbled to herself as she gazed at the vacant plot of land that Vision’s letter led her to. Shutting the engine of her car, the one she borrowed from Clint, Wanda then stepped out of the confined seclusion her car provided into the world again like a newborn babe; afraid, and alone without the Synthezoid beside her. Clutching the envelope in her hand, Wanda trekked through the short distance from the curb and into the plot that Vision bought prior to the invasion of Thanos’s army back in 2018 and stopped herself at the relative center of the plot, slowly opening the envelope and rifling through the contents. There’s a brochure of the plot, a deed to the land and the supposed house awaited to be built, and a sum of monetary compensation directly from STARK Industries’ treasury as a ‘thank you’ gift for saving the World and by proxy the Universe from Virginia Potts-Stark after the funeral of Tony Stark.
Speaking of, attending Stark’s funeral was still a surreal experience for her, the man she hated for all of her childhood and a good chunk of her teenage years, made the ultimate sacrifice at the end to ensure the victory they all sought. The ghost of the bomb will always still be with her, probably forever, but the face of the monster changed into a face of something resembling a man; a man with intentions to atone, a man who also has a heart and ironically one of the people who taught her to be more than what she was.
If a man like Tony Stark can change for the better, what’s stopping you?
The brochure unfolded into a decent advertisement paper, depicting the layout of the plot and the scribble that brought tears to her eyes, the handwriting that formed a lump in her throat, weakened her knees dragging her down to the coarse dirt under her feet.
‘To grow old in -V.’
A gust of wind caressed her back, a cold one unlike the atmosphere around her, and it roused her up from the grief that was starting to set in. Turning her head in that direction she was greeted by the face of a man she saw once on the battlefield not so long ago, that irritating goatee should be a crime in itself if not for the man who wears it. His deep navy robe wrapped his tall frame in a cultist or monkish fashion, a flowing scarlet cloak draped atop his shoulders, and a sad smile plastered on his face giving off a sense of understanding; not empathy or companionship but understanding of grief and loss.
“Miss Maximoff,” the deep tone of the former neurosurgeon leaped between the space between them to her ears, standing in his place at the threshold of a portal leading to the snowy mountainous scenery. “We’ve not been properly introduced before; my name is Stephen Strange.”
“I remember you from Stark’s funeral,” Wanda replied with a dry throat, reigning in the sobs threatening to escape. “That Parker kid called you Criss Angel or something of the sort?” recalling the small exchange between the sorcerer and the Spider-Man brings a hint of amusement to her.
“Very irritatingly, so, if I might add,” Strange let out a chuckle of his own and slowly closed the distance until he stood about a couple of feet at her side, looking over at the suburb of Westview. “Lovely neighborhood, very serene and quiet. Perfect for a home.”
“What are you doing here? Is this something related to the Avengers?” Wanda asked, direct and to the point. Strange gave a hum of appreciation at that.
“I adore directness, thank you,” The sorcerer affirmed, turning his goatee face towards her with apprehensive eyes, and the portal still opened despite the distance, pragmatically an assurance of escape. “You possess great power, Miss Maximoff, and as a master of mystic arts as well as the protector of reality, I must implore you to come with me to Kamar-Taj to study and be more attuned with your nature.” His posture stilled and exuded confidence, yet no hostility or malice she could feel.
“You are afraid.” It’s not a question, merely stating the fact that she gathered from this short interaction so far.
“Yes.” Strange confirmed sincerely, “I shall explain everything, but you must willingly accept my help.” The former neurosurgeon offered a hand for her to take. “Believe me on this, Miss Maximoff; I hold no ill intents nor malicious schemes against you.” The former neurosurgeon peeped a little at the brochure in her hands and used all existing information to form a conclusion. “Grief and suffering are our best friends, Miss Maximoff,”
“…how so?” Her voice came out so weakened and pathetic she couldn’t even stand it, locking her eyes on the row of pine trees right along the road, connecting the secluded section of her supposed home to the rest of the town. Waiting patiently with bated breath for the sorcerer to elaborate his notion.
“It made us know we are still humans. Pain reminds us of the fragility of life so that we might cherish every moment of it; good and bad regardless.” Then, after a short pause, he chuckled darkly to himself with a little shake of his head. “There’s this poem from Kahlil Gibran, it goes like…
Pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.
Even as the stone of the fruit must break, its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.
And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy.
And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.
And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.
Much of your pain is self-chosen.
It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.
Therefore, trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquility:
For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen,
And the cup he brings, though it burns your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has moistened with His sacred tears.” Strange finished and the air stilled between them for a time, until Wanda let out a stilted giggle at the recital he just did.
“Excuse me, Mister Strange. It was impressive the way you remember things, but I might want to stick with the summary of yours.” Despite the sadness clouding her mind, she finds some amusement in the exchange. “English is not my mother tongue, so, by default, poetry and poems tend to lose their meanings on me. I hope you are not offended.”
“Not at all, Miss Maximoff,” Strange shot her a reassuring smirk and he turned his eyes once again towards the setting Sun at the horizon. “So, about the offer? We have Wi-Fi,” The former neurosurgeon offered playfully.
Wanda let out a snort at the tease but held a hint of a smirk on her lips, looking over the horizon alongside him and alternating her eyes down to the brochure in her hand as well. Minutes flew by and nothing else was said between them until Wanda decided to break the suffocating peace around herself “I can’t.” she let out a heavy sigh, “This house is to be the reminder of Viz, proof that he was real.” Wanda turned her face toward the sorcerer with a sense of sadness, “Without it, my…life would have no meaning.”
Stephen couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle at the statement, which roused Wanda to glare at him with dissatisfaction and a huff of frustration. “My apologies, Miss Maximoff, you just reminded me of someone I knew.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. He’s quite full of himself, focused everything into a singularity of importance, based the meaning of everything on it; even his life.” Stephen looked at the final grace of the Sun slowly bidding them farewell. “One day, the singularity collapsed, and all the demons played havoc on him, dragging him down a dark path; one that not many would venture to offer salvation.” Wanda listens carefully, analyzing his words and the signs he involuntarily showed through the posture of his stance, or the slump of his shoulders. “One person was brave enough…yet he did not take it, contend to wallow in the misery of hubris, thinking his life was meaningless, mourning the things that he lost.” Then, the sorcerer tentatively unclasped the watch on his left wrist, flipping it over to look at whatever was on the underside with a nostalgic smile plastered on his lips. “Ultimately, what they said was true, and he found himself the strength to climb, climbing earnestly to escape the abyss he dug for himself, yet he couldn’t do it alone. There are helps that he thought he did not need, but their persistence and patience were the lifelines he held on to, letting them drag him off the final dreg into the new life that awaited him at the other end if he only dared to look past the walls of sorrow that he’d erected.” The sorcerer turned towards her with the softest eyes she’d ever seen on his face since the conversation started, it gave his visage a sense of sadness and regret but filled with hope and optimism at the same time. “There are other things that can give your life meaning, you just have to keep moving forward and don’t ever stop seeking it.”
Wanda kept silent, looking intensely into the brochure while letting Strange study her without a care, only mulling over the significance of her decision to come as the steady hum of whirling energy of the portal lulled both of them in the serene quietness of the countryside as if shrouding them from the world.
[Kamar-Taj, Nepal. Mid 2028]
Stephen Strange was dressed in his formal sorcerer attire with his ever-faithful Cloak draping softly atop his shoulders, his hands behind the small of his back as he inspected the acolytes in the yard practicing basic incantations, one of them stood out purely because the color of her hair and the distinct shade of energy she can conjured. Wong met his gaze and approached him.
“What are you still doing here? The event starts in fifteen.” The current Sorcerer Supreme inquired with squinted eyes.
“The eagerness you show to chase me away was hurtful, Wong.” Strange teased with a light chuckle, “Don’t worry, I’ll be out of your hair shortly, for today, of course.” Then both of them purchased a spot under the shade of a plum tree, using their magic lazily to pluck the fruits into their hands. “How’s the training?”
“Of anyone in particular?”
Strange kept his silence but sent a glare at his friend/confidant instead. Wong chuckled teasingly at the gesture.
“Overall are still on schedule, there are some; namely Kharis, Frank, Preecha, and Monika that are still behind. Easy fix, those.”
“Hmm.”
“You know that we can cut this due process if you just take the title back, right?” Wong whined and rolled his eyes at Strange’s snicker.
“I’m confident in your wisdom, my friend,”
“You are too lazy to take the responsibility again, more like,” Wong jabbed with a cackle, his eyes fell upon Wanda Maximoff with a hint of concern. “Years went by, but I still think your decision was wrong.”
“Regarding her?” Savoring the plum in his mouth, Strange nodded towards the general direction of Wanda who still maintained a barrier made of reddish lights in contrast to the amber glow of others, barely distinguishable in the Sunlight.
“You know what the tome says…”
“Destiny is in our hands, we proved that time and again, didn’t we?” Strange countered with a quirked eyebrow.
“I still implore you to take caution, Strange. The prophecy isn’t something to be taken lightly.” Wong affirmed seriously; a trace of worry marred his face. Stephen sighed deeply and firmly put a hand on the Sorcerer Supreme’s shoulder.
“I’m grateful that you are still vigilant about her, my friend.”
“It’s my job to be, seeing that you took the role of an enabler already.” The sass never left, and Strange adored the man for it. “It’s not my place to say this, Stephen, but are you certain about this? I knew how close you and Palmer were, seeing her at a wedding will be—”
“Christine is still one of my closest friends, it would be questionable for me not to show up and congratulate her. It will be fine, Wong. I’m fine.” Stephen reassured his friend and soon the masters rang a bell signifying the end of the 1st training session.
“I wonder why,” The Chinese sorcerer teased knowingly with a smirk and excused himself after noticing Wanda approaching them.
“I guess he’s still awkward around me, huh?” Wanda pouted playfully at Stephen as she casually wiped beads of sweat off her forehead, looking at the retreating being of the Sorcerer Supreme following the other students into the inner sanctum. Her eyes returned to Strange and met his smirk with her own, enjoying their inner joke.
“Something of the sort,” Strange replied and gestured for the acolyte to lead a path toward the entrance of the temple as discussed earlier. “How was it?”
“Not as draining as you made it out to be, the difficulty was in maintaining it with focus.”
“Hmm. You appear to be quite a quick learner, Miss Maximoff.” A sincere praise laced within his remark, “Still, I’ve noticed that the energy you’d put into the conjuring was still far too much for such a simple spell; magic is all about resource management. We draw energies from the Universe, true, but we must distribute them efficiently and precisely,”
“Otherwise, we risk tiring ourselves in fights.” Wanda recited his words from their early lesson. “I remember, Strange, but you’ve got to admit that I didn’t just swirl my hands around aimlessly anymore, right?” Wanda mocked his and Wong’s reprimand the first time she decided to be under their tutelage.
“Now you made weird signs with them, albeit more efficient than arms swirling as before.” The former neurosurgeon-turned-sorcerer retorted lightheartedly and casually casting an illusion spell over their attires as soon as they left the temple’s vicinity. His turned into a tailored Armani he used to own before the accident as well as compressing the Cloak into his pocket kerchief and Wanda’s into a dress of her choosing; a scarlet swing dress with black floral details, accentuating her auburn hair and ivory skin. “Shall we?”
“I can’t wait to get back to civilization, even just for a day,” Wanda replied with a chuckle looking at the sorcerer with expectancy.
“Well?” Strange quirked his brows at her, mirroring her expression.
“What?”
“Can you open a portal?”
“I thought it was your job?” Wanda smirked and quickly put on a sling ring.
“Consider it an exam, Miss Maximoff.” Strange took a step back and put his hands inside his trousers’ pockets. “Anytime, now.”
“Wong was right; you are a cheapskate,” Wanda scrunched her nose playfully at the man behind her and concentrated.
“I prefer the word resourceful.” Strange let out a smug and studied the energy flow around her; there were the familiar signatures of the same one that all the sorcerers utilize, but there were also foreign traces mixed within, something darker and more ancient. Not a moment longer, Wanda Maximoff successfully opened a portal linked to the only place in New York that she’s familiar with; the Avengers Compound. “Excellent, now let me…” Strange put on his ring and influenced the portal with his energy, altering its destination to the front of a building mentioned in the invitation. “There. Come on now, we are already borderline on the fashionably late territory.” He offered her the loop of his arm as the formality required, and Wanda gladly hooked her arm in it as the two of them stepped through the whirling ring of light.