Chapter 68

  Arc 6 - Ch 1: Wrath of Kaine

  Date: Friday, June 10, 2011.

  Locatiouy, Brooklyn, New York

  The building stood unremarkable among its neighbiving no outward indication of the boratory hidden below. Jessica blinked against the m sun as she stepped out onto the sidewalk. Her chestnut hair fell in soft waves reag her shoulders. Though she took in their surroundings, her thoughts were turned inward, pting their newfound freedom. Beside her, Kaine radiated coiled tension, his hardened features rough and scarred. Where Jessica exuded a quiet fiden their release, Kaine's skepticism simmered beh a guarded exterior.

  As they walked, Jessica asked, " you believe we're finally free?" her voice ge ear.

  Kaine's only response was a nonittal grunt, his gravelly tone clipped. His pierg eyes swept the busy streets for any sign of danger. Jessioticed the barest hint of easing in his taut muscles as if the ordinary sights and sounds of the city were slowly peing his distrust.

  Turning to him with uainty, she pressed on. "What should we do?"

  Kaine's bitterness shed out, his rese at his situation spilling over. "I don't know, Jessica. What do you think we should do?" His mog towisted cruelly as he added, "Maybe you should go meet up with Mary Jane. Have a real girl's day a your nails done."

  The barbed words struck painfully, dismissing aling Jessica's struggle. Anger and hurt fshed across her face at the flippant remark. "Really, Kaine?" she shot back, uncealed frustration challenging his narrow view.

  Kaine rounded on her, his frayed temper erupting. "Why don't you just leave me alone!" he she venom in his words meant to push her away. "Go to school or something."

  Jessica reeled from the verbal blow. Dealing with Kaine was draining, his lingering bitterness a stant remihat they were both damaged, struggling to move forward. But their struggles were so profoundly different that they could not find on ground.

  Kaine's skin estry of scars and his body wracked with a pain that never fully faded. The disfort fueled his simmering iy and anger. In trast, Jessica's perfect appearance hid her extraordinary inner jourhough she inhabited the form of a beautiful young woman, her miaihe memories of a life once lived as a boy. The dissoween mind and body gave the sensation of being a stranger living inside her skin. Both were misfits, tending with transformations that set them apart. Though Kaine's scars marked his exterior, Jessica's ran deeper.

  And as she turned away, the gulf between them felt wider than ever.

  Kaine's callous words echoed in her mind.

  Go to school or something.

  Despite their harsh delivery, they tained a kernel of truth. She couldn't return to her old life at Midtown High, as if nothing had ged. But college was different. It represented a fresh start, a ste to rei herself, free from the shadows of her past.

  Jessica took a deep breath and turned back towards Kaine. "I think I will."

  As Jessica walked alone, she felt lighter, filled with a new sense of hope and purpose. The prospect of college offered a world of knowledge and experieo shape the… woman she would bee. Her future was hers to define, one decision at a time.

  Kaiood motionless as Jessica's figure faded into the distance, a storm of emotiing inside him. Anger boiled within, uing, clouding his every thought. He watched Jessica glide effortlessly into their new reality, adapting fwlessly, while his existence remaiortured. To Kaine, she embodied a perfe he could tain, unblemished and unmarked by the scars and deformities that branded him a freakish outcast. His biting words, urgio go to school, reflected his preoccupations more than any real for her path. His mind ed, ed by figures like Tyson aer Parker. They were painful symbols of everything he could never be, all he had lost, and what he secretly yearned for despite himself.

  "Maybe I'll go to school too," Kaitered. The words tasted bitter on his tongue.

  He found his feet carrying him toward Midtown High. The school signified far more than just s and hallways; it represented a life forever beyond his reach, a normalcy he could never have. His steps were driven not by a desire to blend in or seek out remnants of Peter's life, but by a masochistieed to front his otherness.

  As Kaine approached Midtown High, the familiar setting did little to calm the storm within. Instead, each step nearer seemed to stoke the fires of his anger, blurrier's past and his present in a haze of fury.

  The sight of the parking lered a flood of unwanted memories, each a sharp stab to his already frayed nerves. It was on this very asphalt that Fsh smmed him to the ground on the first day of senior year in front of a crowd of his cssmates. It was an act of humiliation seared into Kaine's mind. That day had marked a turning point, not for the degrading i itself, but for the false salvation that followed. Tyson's intervention had seemed an act of kihat went against the merciless social order of high school. But Kaine wasn't naive like Peter. He kyson's heroics were fueled more by a thirst for popurity and making a se on his first day than any genuine for Peter. The memory stung; a bitter reminder of the lonelihat had always g his... at Peter's life.

  When Fsh urned his aggression toeter, in the hallway, Tyson did not intervene, his earlier bravado was o be found. Yet Peter had not needed saving. His rength was enough to fend off any attack. Tyson only helped smooth things with the principal, but he hadn’t embellished the story, which might have kept Peter out of trouble.

  They were no lohe vulnerable boys that had been easy targets for bullies. Anyone who challenged Kaine now would regret it. Yet this strength felt hollow because he was alone.

  As Kaine neared Midtown High's entrahe gymnasium caught his eye. The gym stood promily, attached to the main building. A faint smile crept onto his face as he recalled ing out on top during basketball with Fsh in gym css. For once, he had turhe tables on his tormentor. He’d eveed Tyson at basketball that day. However, the smile quickly faded, repced by a familiar scowl as another memory surfaced. This one involved Tyson and their beautiful student-teacher, Ms. Rushman. From the outset, Ms. Rushman had shown clear favoritism toward Tyson. A fact that didn't sit well with Kaine.

  His thoughts darkened as memories of them resurfaced. He recalled the day in gym css when Tyson had turned his charm and fideoward Felicia Hardy. Tyson's demonstration of physical prowess garhe attention and admiration of their cssmates, while als a date with Felicia.

  Recalling the se irritated Kaine, his hands balling into fists at his sides. It wasn't merely that Tyson was showing off, though the grandstanding had irked him. No, what truly g Kaine was the stark trast Tyson's as highlighted between them. Kaine possessed powers simir to Peter Parker's, including strength and agility far beyond normal human limits. Peter could have easily outperformed Tyson at any physical challenge, like climbing the rope. Yet he had always restrained himself, holding back to avoid revealing his abilities and maintaining his secret identity.

  While Kaine hid in the shadows, Tyson basked in the spotlight, driven more by a thirst for popurity than any genuine dispy of skill. His recklessness and hunger for attentiohings Kaine could never recile with. Kaine's path had been marked with stant struggle, the opposite of Tyson's bravado. His hands curled into tight fists, the memory stoking a simmering anger.

  Kaine paused at the froranidtown High, his resolve faltering as he aowledged the stark truth. Though a e of Peter Parker, their appearances were distinctly different. And the divergence went beyond physical traits. Peter carried an everyman charm, his features blending boyish innoce with quiet strength. His manner veyed an awkward grad resiliehat made him instantly retable. He was the quintessential boy door whose humble presence hid his extraordinary abilities. In trast, Kaine's sharper, med features bore only a passing resembo Peter's. Faint scars added to his edgy appearance, distinguishing him from Peter's friendly demeanor.

  Trying to pose as Peter was futile, Kaine couldn't blend ied for stealth instead. Sg the exterior of the building allowed him to avoid attention.

  Kaine asded the brickwork, crawling up the sce wing, peering into each through the windows. His gaze fell upon a se that ignited his simmering anger into an inferno. Through the window of the chemistry b, he spied Tyson and Gwen Stacy, heads bent together, talking while immersed in a project.

  He watched through the window as Gwen and Tyson tiheir versation, oblivious to his preseside. He straio hear their muted voices, catg ss of words here and there.

  "...schorship...Oxford..." said Gwen.

  Tyson's brow furrowed momentarily. "In Engnd?" he asked.

  Gwen ughed lightly. "Well, it's not Oxford, ecticut."

  Tyson chuckled along with her. "In that case, you'll e back drinking tea and talking all posh and proper!" He affected an exaggerated British at o few words, elig anh from Gwen.

  "I enjoy tea just fine already, thanks," Gwen quipped back.

  Tyson's expression grew more serious. "Have you told Peter yet?"

  Gwen bit her lip. "No, not yet. I don't know how t it up."

  Tyson nodded sympathetically. "You should tell him soon. I meaells you all his secrets, right?" To illustrate his point, Tyson pantomimed shooting a web out of his wrist.

  Gwen gave his arm a light, pyful smack. "Shh, stop that!" she scolded, but she was only amused. "I know, but what if I get this schorship? What would that mean for... well, for everything here?"

  Tyson shrugged. "You'll have to tell Peter eventually. We all know you're too smart not to get whatever you apply for."

  Gwen looked thoughtful, chewing her lip again. "It's just... I don't want him to feel like I'm abandoning him. And it's not like I've decided yet, it's just an option."

  "I'm sure Peter will uand," Tyson replied gently. "He knows how driven you are, how talehis is an amazing opportunity."

  "I hope you're right. I just... I need a little more time to think it all through."

  Tyson nodded. "Of course. But you should tell him sooner rather than ter." He gnced up at the clock. "We better get back to work."

  Gwen sighed, flippiextbook back open. "You're right. Let's get focused."

  The two turheir attention back to their projed their heads bent together agaihe pages. Kaine observed them for a moment longer, watg Tyson's arm brush against Gwen's as he pointed something out iext. The casual intimacy of the gesture made Kaine's jaw ch.

  His mind rebelled at Gwen leaving, and going to college out of the try. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. He knew how much Peter cared fwen; how much he cared fwen. Kaine khis news would cut him deeply. And Tysooo. The fact that Gwen had fided in Tyson instead of Peter stirred rese within Kaine. What right did Tyson have to know about Gwen's private ambitions before Peter did? Kaine's hands curled into fists at his sides. As far as he was ed, Tyson had no pce meddling ier and Gwen's retionship.

  Kaine's grip on the crete ledge tightened, crumbling it beh his fiips. Watg Gwen ugh with Tyson through the window ignited a fierce possessiveness within him. It wasn't just Tyson encroag on something Kai beloo Peter and himself. It was a stark reminder of Kaine's isotion; suents of warmth were lost to him.

  In that instant, Kaine uood with cutting crity that some desires remained out of reach, taunting him with false promises. That pain was a bitter pill to swallow.

  Kaine's gaze on the pair was intense, a storm brewing in his eyes. He remembered his time with Gwen from when he eter. The feel of her in his arms, her lips' sweetness, and each was a sharp stab to his cold reality. Seeing Gwen oblivious to his existend instead spending time with charming, ambitious Tyson ignited fierce possessiveness. Kaine knew she harbored feelings for him. The thought of Tyson usurping something so precious that Kaine had dared hope was his, was unbearable.

  Yet the harsh truth remained. Kaine was not the man Gwen had known. His fad his scars ensured she wouldn't reize him.

  But an idea flickered in Kaine's mind.

  Gwen would nnize him, but she knew Spider-Man.

  He could bee the hero, stepping into the role Peter carved out.

  Masquerading as Spider-Man to recim Gwen hadn't occurred to Kaine when he'd been in captivity. But as he retreated from the window, the idea grew. It could rekindle his e with Gwen.

  It was a ce to be seen, and not for his scars.

  — Rogue Rept —

  Tyson guhe engine of his motorcycle, weaving through the gested streets with reckless abandon. The midday traffic was a snarled mess of honking horns and screeg brakes, but with a cloak of illusion cealing him, he was unbound by the rules of the road. His power made him an invisible rider slipping silently through the deadlock. When the chokehold of cars grew too dense, he hopped the curb, tires skimming the sidewalk as oblivious pedestrians tinued on their path. The journey from Midtown High to Doas frustrating for most, but not Tyson.

  Thirty-five mier, he strode into his vish suite at the Four Seasons, but an ued sight gave him pause as he ehe opulent living room.

  There, lounging on his sofa as if she owhe pce, was Natasha Romanoff, the Bck Widow. Her usual bck jumpsuit was repced by an oversized fluffy robe that engulfed her. Red curls cascaded freely over her shoulders, giving a rare glimpse of the woman behind the spy facade.

  "What are you watg?" Tyson asked cautiously, trying to mask his surprise.

  "Naruto," Natasha replied nontly her pierg green eyes never leaving the s where an animated ninja battle raged.

  He scrutihe television just to be sure this wasn't some trick. But there was no mistaking the bck hair, bck robes with red clouds, and Sharingan of Itachi Uchiha.

  He turned back to Natasha, eyes narrowing in suspi. "Are you fug with me right now?"

  Natasha's serious expression finally cracked as she broke into genuine ughter, the sound warm and urained. As her ughter faded, Natasha's eyes glinted with mischief. "Did you know Fury set up alerts to notify me anytime you got caught speeding or running lights?" she began, a hint of amusement lingering in her voice.

  Tyson's eyes widened slightly. Of course, Fury would have trag measures ier assigning Natasha as his handler.

  "Well, he never disabled that feature after promoting you," Natasha tinued, "It retty obvious where you were headed with all the viotions you racked up on the way over here." Tyso a flush creep up his neck as Natasha described his reckless ride through the city. "For a minute, I thought it was an emergency," she added, "But nope. Just y to avoid traffic. Your awareness of eleic surveilneeds improvement. You trol the huma, but should be wary of rec devices, cameras, and such." Her tone yful yet chiding, and Tyson found himself grinning sheepishly.

  Tyson nodded, silently g Natasha's point. They met because he had robbed the Federal Reserve Bank, and SHIELD had used footage of him to piece together his identity. He'd gotten away with the heist only to be discovered ter because he'd been caught on camera.

  While he hadn't gotten away , he was satisfied with the result. Having the infamous Bck Widow as an ally but also as his live-in girlfriend ersonal triumph. Natasha Romanoff had bee a trusted partner in his pns for the future and daily life.

  Though the events of the previous week were grueling, the memory of being viciously stabbed in the eye and having half his body ied bore a silver lining. That harrowing ordeal had resulted in Tyson g Loki's ented Uru dagger. Before st week, he'd experienced retive peace over the st few months, in so far as he hadn't faced any life-threatening challenges. When he had first arrived in this world, Tyson's life had been marked by stant turmoil and a relentless string of threats.

  Mago, Stryker, and Azazel, all had gotten the best of him early on.

  But now things were different.

  The gold from the Federal Reserve heist had long since been undered and ied, the bulk of it fuhrough Felicia Hardy's art trade business at House of M or stovestments. Additional pns were already in motion to acquire Trask Industries, a critical step in seg his long-term future. After enters with Thor, Iron Man, and the Hulk, Tyson found his life shifting treater stability and trol. By subtly maniputing figures like Wilson Fisk, Curt ors, and Ivan Vanko, he now held sway over these votile pyers, keeping their as tightly bound within limits he deemed acceptable.

  Overall, Tyson found himself in a position of strength and influence. With powerful allies and signifit threats under his trol, the path ahead seemed full of promise.

  And having Natasha living with him had proven far more enjoyable than he could have anticipated. Her vibrant presence filled his suite; her quick wit, striking intellect, and fierce spirit never failed to invigorate him.

  Shaking off the st remnants of introspe, Tyson asked, "I had to rush home so we wouldn't be te. You didn’t fet, did you?"

  "Of course not, I just wao mess with you," Natasha replied, her voice tinged with warmth and affe that spoke to the depth of their bond.

  She stood, causing her bathrobe to fall from her shoulders, revealing the bck lingerie she wore underh as it pooled on the floor.

  Delicate ce traced intricate patterns across her skin, the dark fabric a stark trast against her pale plexion. The garment hugged her curves. It exuded fidend allure without trying too hard, much like Natasha. Tyson's gaze traveled slowly, appreciating every detail, drinking in every tour.

  "You look...breathtaking," he murmured, crossing the room to meet her. His hands found her waist, pulling her close. Natasha gazed up at him through dark shes.

  "I hoped you'd approve," she purred.

  "I thought for a sed you'd already be dressed uhat robe," he ented.

  Natasha fshed a knowing smile, the slightest hint of pyfulness ione. "I could've been, but this is better, isn't it?" she responded rhetorically.

  She draped her arms zily around his neck. Tyson leaned in, his lips h above her ear. "Are you sure you aren't still just a SHIELD ageo stay close to me?" he whispered.

  Natasha tilted her head up, her breath hot against his cheek. "Even if I was, would you push me away?" she challenged.

  Tyson needed no words to answer. With ag slowness, he brought his mouth to hers. Natasha's body melted into his, perfectly molded against his muscur frame.

  This was no illusion.

  With the meeting of their lips came a now familiar sensation, a siphoning of Natasha's esseo Tyson's being. This transferal of life force had bee onpce siheir first kiss. For Tyson, it was a glimpse into Natasha's soul, affirming her openness, and allowing him access to her thoughts and memories. For Natasha, it was a sacrifice willingly given, a dispy of trust where she made herself vulnerable to him by allowing him access to her innermost self, ensuring his trust in her. She actively engaged in these intimate exges despite the risks of Tyson's life-draining touch because she uood the importance of him unfiltered affe. Her deliberate approach was tangible proof of her care for him and reinforced their bond through mueeded physical tact.

  Their lips parted all too quickly. Tyson carefully restraihe kiss before his power could bring Natasha harm. Still, they lingered in an embraeither eager to back away.

  In fully accepting one another, fws and all, Tyson and Natasha's retionship was rooted in profound trust. Tyson had weled every facet of Natasha's plex past and present self. And she, in turn, had embraced the intricacies of his abilities, even the i dahey posed.

  This time when they kissed, Tyson glimpsed an unspoken trouble weighing on her mind.

  He khe matter would o be addressed. But he reized this was not the time. He knew she would open up when she was ready and not a moment before.

  Setting aside his s, he focused instead on enjoying their pyful moment.

  Tyson used his illusion power to create a mirror image of himself behind Natasha. The illusion's arms encircled her waist. Natasha arched her spine, rising onto her toes. Her movements pressed her ass against the illusory Tyson, separated only by the thin fabric of her underwear.

  Natasha rolled her hips in a slow, deliberate tease. Her voice was honey as she warned, "Careful now. Promises made should be promises kept."

  The calcuted provocation in her eyes and the fidence of her motions spoke volumes.

  With a thought, Tyson banished his doppelganger. It dissolved like mist, leaving Natasha's curves pressed agaiy air.

  "You started this when you stripped."

  Natasha turned, sauntering away. "And here I thought you'd appreciate the view."

  Amusement washed over Tyson. And he did appreciate the view; watg transfixed as she slipped into the bedroom, moving to get dressed.

  — Rogue Rept —

  One advantage of living in a five-star hotel was the access to high-end transportation. While Tyson almost always opted for a motorcycle to get around the city, limos always idled near his residence. And on the rare occasion when one wasn't immediately avaible, the hotel's attentive cierge swiftly arranged for one.

  Tyson and Natasha exited the Four Seasons and slid into the backseat of a limousiheir destination was Una Pizza Napoletana in the Lower East Side, renowned for its authentieapolitahe cierge had not reserved a table but instead phoned in a pickup order.

  In a twist, Tyson and Natasha pyed an unusual role that evening.

  Pizza delivery people.

  The limo approached its destination, the iic 200 Park Avenue, a currently under-renovation skyscraper that domihe Manhattan skylihey were here for ahat had drawn New York's elite and most iial figures.

  Tyson adjusted the fox half-mask that obscured the upper half of his face. Beside him, Natasha Romanoff had donned one of her photostatic veils before leaving the apartment, disguising her features uhose of a beautiful, but non-descript brue woman.

  Their arrival would be far from subtle. I months, Mirage's exploits had bee fixtures on the front pages of every major loeer. The beautiful agent's prese the Green Goblin's arrest and the Harlem rampage had fueled endless media specution about the true nature of their partnership.

  SHIELD had stepped in, ensuring no clear photos of Natasha made it onto the i or into articles. The tabloid headlihat had portrayed them as star-crossed lovers was swiftly killed before printing. While the article's existence had amused Tyson, it had only exasperated Natasha. But sino pictures of her had been made public, using a photostatic veil to shift her appeara each public appearance, made Mirage seem more like a pyboy, and Natasha less like his stant date or handler.

  The limo drew closer to their destination; aravagant fundraiser at the under-renovatio Life building. Together, they stepped out of the limo and into the vish lobby, the clicks of photographers' cameras heralding their arrival.

  As they eyson hoisted the stack of pizza boxes. The bination of Mirage's heroic persona and the muask of delivering pizzas captivated the onlookers, blending the extraordinary with the ordinary in a way that humahe hero. As Tyson and Natasha made their way through the parted crowd, they were keenly aware of the eyes trag their every move, the hushed whispers swirling around them, and the camera fshes. Yet they moved with a calm, unhurried pace.

  Natasha managed a polite smile for the cameras, but ohey pushed past the gre of the fshbulbs, her smile faded into a scowl. "I'm never going to be able to go out in public with you without a photostatic veil again," she muttered, her pint both sincere and tinged with wry humor.

  Tyson suggested cheekily, "What's wrong with photostatic veils? Or...you could just stay with me. Be my trusty sidekick." he joked.

  Natasha's eyes narrowed. "They itch... and don't even think about going there." Her voice held an undercurrent of threat ed in humor.

  Tyson backpedaled with a nervous chuckle. "Kidding, kidding."

  As they tinued into the lobby, Natasha muttered "Yoing to pay for that oonight."

  Tyson carefully set the stack of boxes on ay table. Then the moment everyone had been anticipating finally arrived as the guest of honor emerged from the sea of mingling attendees. His entrance was timed for maximum impact, befitting his reputation for fir and showmanship.

  "David Biony Stark called out, his voice tinged with amusement and challenge. "I hope those pizzas are the real deal."

  Tyson turo face the speaker. He volleyed back smoothly. "I know it's not the same as flying to Naples on a private jet or in a supersonic suit, but it'll have to do."

  Extending a hand iing, Tyson firmly shook with Tony Stark; genius, billionaire, phinthropist, and the man within the high-tech armor of Iron Man. With a slight gesture towards Natasha, Tyson made introdus. "You already know my date for the evening. Ms. Rushman."

  Tony noticed the woman was not Natasha. But he knew she y, and assumed she wore a disguise he couldn't decipher.

  "Ms. Rushman, it's… sort of good to see you again." Ever the provocateur, Tony couldn't resist stirring the pot. "So, are you two a couple now? Because I'm pretty sure I set this up at my birthday party."

  "You did. We knew each other before, but your party helped me score a date. So thanks for that, and the invite. You always throw a good party." he said, ing an arm around Natasha's waist.

  Tony looked pleased that his as had brought Mirage and Natasha together that night. Pepper Potts, however, gently interjected, "We're the ones who should be thanking you. I 't expin how much trouble you saved us by c the house in your illusion."

  "Let's not worry about business right now, there will be time for that ter," Tony said. Grabbing a slice of pizza, he seamlessly blended into the crowd.

  After Tony's arrival, the initial formalities gave way to a more casual mingling. The presence of the heroes sparked excitement among the guests, many eager for a ce to exge words or share a moment with these rger-than-life figures. As the afternoressed, the event wound down, and Tony and Pepper extended an invitation to tihe festivities upstairs at their private bar. Chairs and sofas formed versatiohroughout the room, while subtle artwork adorhe walls, adding character without overwhelming the senses. Overall it wasn't dissimir to the VIP lou House of M.

  The group settled in with drinks and the versation drifted toward Tony's test ambitious endeavors.

  "I read this whole pce cost over two billion to purchase, yet you're pnning to dismantle half of it," Tyson said, "Why not just set up shop somewhere cheaper?"

  Tony's face lit up, eager to expin his vision. "It's all to house an Arc reactor. This will be a proof of cept before expanding it city-wide."

  "This building sits right above Graral Station," Tony tinued, hands gesturing animatedly. "If the prototype works, I'll scale up the Arc reactor to power all of Manhattan's transit system; subways, trains, stations for electric busses, the whole shebang."

  Tyso out an impressed whistle. "That's an ambitious goal. But isn't all this costing you a fortune in the meantime?"

  "The press and goodwill will make up for it," Tony said with a wave. "O's running, I sell the excess energy to the city at a dist. The energy will be far er than what they've got too. Indian Point is on its st legs, it's only a matter of time before the city needs another power source."

  He sipped his drink before adding, "Oscorp has a simir bioelectric projederway, but this will blow them out of the water." fidence radiated from Tony's voice.

  "I wanted you to know," Tyson began, "with the fortune I've amassed from House of M, I pn to expand into teology. I'm iiations to acquire Trask Industries."

  Pepper's eyes fshed with curiosity. "Trask?" she asked in a tone inviting eboration.

  In respoony activated a holographic dispy with a sweep of his hand. Files, data projes, and statisti Trask Industries floated through the air.

  "Trask was successful in the '70s but has floundered siony summarized skeptically as he sifted through the holograms. "No major projects for decades. Why them?" He asked, seeking the strategic rationale behind acquiring a pany that seemed a faded shadow of its flory. "Just because they're underfunded and an easy buyout?"

  Sensing the versation had reached an important point, Tyson made a decision.

  He reached for his mask.

  Natasha reached pg a hand on his arm, briefly halting him. "Are you sure about this?"

  "I am," he stated.

  Natasha removed her hand, satisfied he knew what he was doing. And Tyson removed his mask, revealing his true face to Tony and Pepper.

  "Tyson Smith, soon to be Midtown High graduate, part-time eainer, and superhero," he introduced.

  Pepper's eyes widened in surprise as the truth dawned on her. "You are just a kid," she murmured, her voice hushed with the weight of her realization. Tyson's massive frame and imposing physique had clouded her perception, but now, seeing him unmasked, his youth was undeniable. Though he stood at an imposi, his features still held a trace of the softness of adolesce. Pepper took in the sight of his face without the anonymity of his mask.

  Tyson aowledged the truth behind her words. "I know I said so at the hearing, but with how big I am, it's easy tet I'm still in high school," he admitted with an easy chuckle. Turning to Tony he asked, "What do you know about mutants?"

  Tony's eyes sparked with i as he leaned back, the stist in him revving for an ih discussion. "Mutants, huh? Their DNA tains a geic variation dubbed the X-Ge mas in tless permutations, each bestowiraordinary abilities. Wild stuff." He gestured expansively, "These powers run the gamut from shooting sers from your eyes to pooping ice cream. They tend to emerge during periods of inteional turmoil like puberty, but ma from birth in some." Tony's tone grew thoughtful, a hint of gravity emerging. "But from a research perspective, mutants represent boundless potential. Just imagihe applications. Medical miracles, energy solutions, you . The key lies in deg how that X-Gene works, and more critically, how we harhat knowledge."

  eg the dots, Tony tinued, "You mentioned being a mutant at the Senate hearing. The illusions, the mismatched eyes. It adds up."

  Tyson leaned forward as he prepared to share. "Let me give you the abridged version of my story," he began, his voice low and solemn. "As far as the public is ed, my mutant ability is illusions. In truth, my power is far deeper." He paused as if gathering the words to expin his extraordinary gift. "When I toueone, skin to skin, I gain a copy of them. It's like I absorb a replica of their essence which gets imprinted onto me. Their skills and knowledge, memories, and even their powers. I get it all." His gaze flickered to his hands, flexing his fingers. "But it es with a cost. My touch drains lifeforce. Prolonged tact could kill. For a normal person, five seds is all it takes to put them into a a. If I kill someoh my touch, the imprint bees perma." His tone was grave, carrying the weight of this dangerous facet of his power.

  "My ability to create illusions came from a mutant whose group took me hostage. I didn't mean to kill him, but he was weak and died before I had a ce to release him."

  Tony watched Tyson ily as he spoke, focused on each revetion. When Tysoended his hand, allowiallic cws to slide from his fiips, Tony's eyes widened in surprise.

  "Talons," Tyson noted. "These plus superhuman strength, speed, reflexes, enhanced healing, and senses came from a mutant named Sabertooth. He came after me but got more than he bargained for. All my bones are coated with adamantium." His jaw tighte the memory.

  Tony whistled. "Now that is an expensive upgrade," he remarked.

  Tyson's expression darkened. "It was an involuntary gift, courtesy of William Stryker and the on X program."

  Pepper gasped, "You're so young, but you've been through so much."

  "That depends on your perspective. I gain memories from those who I've absorbed. As far as I remember, I've already lived several lifetimes." Tyson tinued. "As you said, there are applications for studying mutants' powers. Well, there's a mutant out there who built a mae. It harnesses his power to activate the tent X-gene. In short, it turns humans into mutants."

  Tyson's hands curled into fists. "The problem is, using the mae would kill him. So he's huntio use instead. With oouch, I gain his power and bee his disposable battery."

  Tony's brow furrowed as he processed this revetion. "So Trask has some tech that could fix this guy's mae, get him off your back?" he specuted.

  Tyson shook his head. "No. The mutant after me is a terrorist who trols magism. And he wears a helmet that blocks telepathy. My illusions are useless against him." Tyson's expression was grim. "He's my perfect ter."

  Toyson's gaze. "Theter figure out a pn."

  Tyson tinued expining the situation. "That's partly why I'm ied in Trask Industries. In the 1970s, they pioneered droeology desigo hunt aralize mutants. The drones were crafted entirely from noallipos."

  This crucial detail represented a tactical advantage against Tyson's foe, who could manipute metal effortlessly. Tony nodded, impressed. As an engineer himself, he saw potential in repurposing obsolete teology. "With some upgrades, those old drones could be pretty effective. Not a bad pn."

  Tyson's tone grew more ominous as he revealed the sed, far more arming aspect of Trask's anti-mutant efforts. "They developed teology to detain mutants. Colrs that disable their abilities. It's the kind of thing that could lead to prison camps straight out of World War II."

  Tony's expression darkened as the gravity of Tyson's words sank in, painting a stark picture of the catastrophic misuse such teology could enable if it fell into the wrong hands.

  "I aim to keep that tech tained, restricted only to those who truly to defend against or detain dangerous mutants," Tyson tinued. "Mutants occupy a precarious p society. As powerful as we be, there are so few of us, it makes us vulnerable. And the mutants that make the news are the strong ones, most mutants aren't hy. I'm strong, but at baseline, I was less dangerous than ah a gun. But Mutants are the 'other,' the minority disliked and feared by the majority." Tyson's jaw set with vi. "Someone will iably develop simir teology down the line. Current projes estimate it will be decades before mutant numbers rise enough for us to be a signifit pertage of the popution. If ush off the dystopian future long enough, we might grow to have great enough o defend ourselves, or earn enough favor with the general popuce to have our own civil rights movement."

  "That's why I'm ag now to pull the plug on Trask. I'm in a position where I do what no other mutant ; stop them before they get out of hand." Tyson's gaze swept the room, lingering on the floor-to-ceiling windows and modern decor. Despite the casual atmosphere, his tone was serious as he raised a perti question. "How secure is this pce?"

  Tony quipped back without missing a beat, "Didn't know you'd worry about that with the triple imposter here." His ent was an amusing nod to Natasha and her espionage and infiltration skills. She responded with an eye roll, unfazed by Tony's remark. Seeking to assuage any s, Tony called out, "Jarvis?"

  At his prompt, the familiar voice of his AI emerged from the phone's speaker. "The room is secure, sir," Jarvis firmed.

  Tony gave Tyson a nod of assurahat their privacy was guaranteed.

  With a subtle gesture over his shoulder, Tyson jured up an illusion.

  Iron Man appeared o Tyson in his iic red and gold suit. The iic helmet opeo reveal Tony's face within, a perfect replica down to his trademark goatee.

  The illusory Tony spoke, "You've seen my illusion before, but this only scratches the surfay power. It's not just visual."

  Iron Man snapped his armored fingers. At the gesture, the opening chords of "Iron Man" by Bck Sabbath rang out, filling the room. He sauntered over to the bar. As he walked, he shed the Iron Man armor piece by piece. When he reached the bar and began p wio gsses, the metal suit had shed to reveal an impeccably tailored three-piece suit. With the finesse of a seasoned host, he approached Tony and Pepper, extending a gss of wio each with a flourish before dissipating into thin air.

  "Go ahead." Tyson enced.

  Tony and Pepper exged a gnce before tentatively taking a sip. Tyson expined, "Smells and tastes aren't that difficult for me to recreate either."

  Pepper's eyes widened, clearly impressed by the authenticity of the illusion. "This is quite ving," she remarked, swishing the illusory wine in her gss.

  "Exactly," Tyson affirmed, folding his arms across his chest. "I override every sense."

  Tysoated as he prepared to disclose a difficult truth.

  "I'm just going to e out with it," he began, "I tricked everyo the Stark Expo. Ivan Vanko is alive."

  Tony and Pepper exged gnces, but remained silent, allowing Tyson to expin himself.

  "Vanko's aoward you was fueled by his vi that your father was responsible for his own father's downfall and impriso. In his eyes, you were carrying on your father's legacy." Tyson said gently. "What Vanko needed wasn't death, but help. Therapy and guidao move past his rage. He was misguided, yes, but also undoubtedly a genius."

  "As far as I know, he's the only other person on this p who successfully miniaturized arc reactor teology. His mind is brilliant, even if his motivatiowisted."

  Tony wouldn't argue that. Vanko had proven himself extraordinarily gifted during their brief enters.

  "So, I've been providing him that help," Tyson revealed. As he spoke, the interior of Stark Tower melted away, repced by a cozy cottage. Vanko sat at a worktable, focused ily on some delicate meical work.

  "I've been giving him therapy, helping him work through his anger and grief," Tyson expined, his voice softening with empathy. "And guiding him to use his gifts positively, instead of for revenge."

  Ivan Vanko left the worktable to sit beside a bed, where an older, bedridden man y. This man bore a striking resembo Ivan, with simir features, unmistakably his father.

  The elder Vanko, frail yet lucid, addressed his son with a voice tinged with regret, "Ivan. Don't hold hate in your heart." His words were a plea, an aowledgment of the heavy burden his as had pced on Ivan's shoulders. "I made my mistakes, trying to sell the secrets of the Arc reactor. I betrayed my friends."

  The older man's voice grew weaker, yet imbued with somber crity, "Don't think poorly of me.” Anton Vanko's voice softened as he sought to impart a final piece of wisdom to his son. "Do not bme the Starks for this foolish old man's mistakes," he urged, "Let go of the vea that ed me."

  "I'm proud of you for your aplishments and f to represent our family," Anton tinued, "But don't waste your life and potential on false revenge," he advised, uanding the futility of such pursuits. "Build something great, help the world."

  As Anton's sel cluded, Ivan, visibly moved by his father's words, fought back tears.

  Tarded the fading illusion with a skeptical gaze, his arms crossed firmly over his chest. After a moment, he quipped dryly, "Illusion therapy, huh? I'll admit, that's a new one. hought I'd see a therapy sessiohe therapist could jure up dead dads from thin air." He shifted in his seat, gears visibly turning in his mind as he sidered the implications. "You know, I've had my share of... let's call them 'paternal issues'," Tony tinued, his toively light even as his words aowledged the plex retionship with his te father. "And I've seey of unventional solutions. But this?" He gestured at the space where the illusion had been. "This is something else entirely."

  Tony's pierg eyes flicked back to Tyson, a glimmer of respect mingling with characteristic irreverence. "Gonna hand it to you. Using your powers to give someone a ce to rewrite their worst day, or at least chat with it? That's pretty out there. But hey, if it works, it works. Just... try not to start a supervilin supproup fging out childhood trauma, alright?" Despite the flippa, his tone veyed that he reized the potential value of Tyson's unorthodox approach.

  Natasha's lilting ughter filled the room. Tyson rubbed his neck sheepishly, a hint of pink tinging his cheeks.

  Pepper picked up on the undercurrents of the versatioly probing, she asked, "Vanko's not the only one, is he?"

  Tysoated, shifting his weight. "ly," he admitted after a pause.

  "At this rate, House of M is turning into a supervilin rehabilitatioer," Natasha joked, though her ent highlighted the morally ambiguous nature of Tyson's interventions.

  Tyson sighed heavily. "It's not that bad," he protested weakly, though his tone was unving.

  Tony tapped his fingers rhythmically on the low table before them, his razor-sharp mind analyzing the possibilities and implications of Tyson's destierventions.

  After a pensive moment, he broke the heavy silence. "So I appreciate your hoy, but I knew you saved Vanko," he admitted.

  Tyson's eyes widened in surprise, disbelief c his words. "You did?"

  Tony nodded curtly, his gaze steady and knowing. "When we first met, after your little demonstration at the Senate hearing, I realized I couldn't ter your powers directly. So I took a small precaution with the suits. Jarvis monitors everything in my viity, just in case."

  The billionaire's vigince was uandable, even expected, and Tyson bore ment over the covert surveilnce. Giveure of his abilities, such caution was only prudent. And he kony Stark was incredible at identifying weaknesses and fixing them.

  "'t fault a man for c his bases," Tyson said lightheartedly with an amicable shrug.

  Natasha let out a silvery ugh, her green eyes glinting with mischief. "Mirage, so easily thwarted by his greatest nemesis... cameras!" She grinned, uo resist teasing.

  Tony quirked an eyebrow at Natasha, his expression wry. "I thought it was some covert SHIELD op, not celebrity rehab with Dr. Drew," he quipped.

  Tony nodded in thoughtful agreement. "Alright, I'll admit this pn has merit," he said, "I reize a good idea when it's staring me in the face, even if it's not how I would have approached things."

  He csped Tyson firmly on the shoulder, meeting his mismatched eyes with an ear look. "sider me onboard." Tony's voice took on a more solemn tone as he tinued. "I know what it's like to be handed a sed ce, to try and make up for past mistakes. If I help give that opportunity to others..."

  He trailed off, looking thoughtful before turning to his holographiterface. His fingers danced across the dispy, inputting ands with practiced ease. "I'll forward some o Felicia on potential upgrades for Vanko to implement into Trask's drones. He might be able to ie some of my designs, a you better prepared to handle any... is."

  He looked back at Tyson, his expression s. "And if you've got unstable employees, it's probably best if I help you with your security. I'll send over an AI to ie into your building. It's not Jarvis, but I've got a few others. I think one in particur will fit you perfectly."

  "I appreciate that, Tony. Truly." Tysohe billionaire's gaze, siy etched on his chiseled features. "It means a lot that you're willing to help like this. I know you're taking a leap of faith."

  Tony dismissed this with a wave of his hand. "Yeah, well, I've taken bigger leaps on less. If you help people, I'll give it a shot."

  — Rogue Rept —

  Gwen Stacy sat at her desk, focused ily on calculus equations. Pale blue walls and floral bedding, photos of loved ones, stacks of textbooks, and motivational quotes surrounded her. The pages of her notebook were filled with numbers and formus.

  A sudden rap at the window pane made her pulse qui. She whirled around to see a familiar figure perched on the fire escape, backlit by the setting sun. Though his red and blue e looked slightly worn, the distinctive mask and web pattern were unmistakable.

  Gwen rushed to slide the window open. "Well, hey there, Spider-Guy. What's with the get-up? I thought we weren't meeting until ter," she said, her voice bubbly and pyful. Her eyes glinted with mischief as she gave him a knowing look.

  "What if my dad found Spider-Man sneaking into his daughter's bedroom?" Gwen teased, leaning on the window frame. She took in the defined muscles of his suit, admiring his athletic physique.

  Spider-Man tensed, caught off guard by her casual tone. "Is he still hunting me?" he asked sharply.

  Gwen's ughter rang out, assuming his was merely joking about her father's efforts against Spider-Man. "Don't worry, I won't let him arrest you," she promised affeately.

  The moment was shattered with the ring of the doorbell.

  Gwen's rea was immediate, her eyes widening in arm. She whispered in a lent voice. "My dad's home. He 't see you like this. Hide, ge your e, do something. I 't open the door with Spider-Man standing in my room." She spoke rapidly, knowing the dire sequences if her father discovered them. "Whoever's at the door, if I don't ahen my dad will e cheg."

  Spider-Man gave a quick thumbs up in silent aowledgment of her words. An agile leap across the room, had him nding soundlessly behind Gwen's bed. Croug low, he cealed himself, hidden from view by the bed frame.

  Gwen crossed the room and gnced back at Spider-Man's hidden form before she stepped into the empty hallway. With her father nowhere in sight tension ebbed from her body with each step. As she he front door, her father's muffled voice reached her ears. His usual warmth was spicuously absent, repced with a formal, restraione. He reserved that voily for work, and people he didn't like, particurly her boyfriend, Peter Parker.

  As Gwen came into full view of the living room, what she saw rooted her ihere, framed in the open doorway, stood Peter Parker. Gwen's mind reeled, uo prehend the impossibility of it all. Peter was here, exging stilted pleasantries with her father.

  But if Peter was here, who was the stranger in her room wearing Spider-Man's unmistakable e?

  Her sense of unease grew as the gravity of the situation washed over her. Whoever now hid in her room behind that familiar mask was pletely unknown to her.

  An imposter.

  Peter spoke to her father stilted, but politely. However, they noticed the abrupt shift in Gwen's demeanor as she entered. Her body tensed, as she came to a sudden halt. The fusion and unease pying across her features set both men on edge.

  Captain Stacy's instincts kicked in immediately. Both protective father and vigint police captain, he edged closer to Gwen. "What's wrong, sweetie?" he asked gently.

  Before either could glean an answer, an ued figure emerged from the hallway. Gwen turned slowly. Her pulse raced as she faced the figure looming behind her.

  There stood Spider-Man.

  The sight jarred Peter Parker standing mere feet away. Surprise and defensiveness crept into his voice. "Who are you?" Peter demanded, his eyes locked on the brazen impersonator.

  Uhe ed figure exuded fidence. He mimicked Spider-Man's trademark swagger, and decred, "You know who I am." A stunned silence desded, all eyes fixed on the unwele intruder.

  "I'm your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man!" he procimed, into the tense quiet with a hint of theatricality added to his voice.

  Gwen's unease morphed into dread. The iie was familiar yet jarringly ingruous ing from this stranger.

  Captain Stacy's voice edged with paternal protectiveness. "How did you get in here? Get away from my daughter!"

  The ed figure was uerred. He pced a hand firmly on Gwen's shoulder, his grip dispying his possessiveness. "I don't think so," he decred.

  Peter tensed, muscles coiling in anticipation. The stakes were deeply personal, but Gwen's safety aramount. As Captain Stacy dashed to front the imposter, the situation careened rapidly. ed by fury, the imposter reacted with shog force. He shoved Gwen aside, indifferent to her well-being, his sole focus meeting the captain's advance.

  Diving tweer ed her in his arms as he sought to shield her from harm. Their momentum carried them crashing through a gss coffee table. Jagged shards exploded outward, casg across the floor. Peter absorbed the brunt of the impact, his body a barricade proteg Gwen from a majority of the sharp shrapnel.

  The imposter Spider-Man's attention was momentarily diverted back twen by the harm he had caused. Captain Stacy seized this window of opportunity, he reached up to the top of a nearby a et, retrieving a cealed firearm. He'd prepared tingencies for precisely this type of situation. With practiced motions, he loaded the gun and aimed at the intruder, his sole foeutralizing the immediate threat to his daughter's safety.

  Gunsh out, deafening in the fined space.

  The Spider-Man, however, dispyed uny agility. He evaded the barrage of bullets, weaving and dodging with his heightened reflexes. The room transformed into a battlefield where Spider-Man flowed around the projectiles, his movements uable and hyper-reactive. Though disciplined and accurate, each of Captain Stacy's shots missed by mere inches as Spider-Man tio elude his rounds; ricocheting off walls and furniture in a whirlwind of acrobatics.

  Amidst the wreckage of the coffee table, Gwen clutched Peter's sleeve, pain and panic swirling in her eyes. "Help him," she pleaded, her voice strained with urgency. But Peter was more worried fwen, so he began to assess her injuries. Her grip tightened, desperation bleeding into her words. "Peter, please."

  The gravity of her request was evident. Peter's attention so the frontation. Captain Stacy's gun clicked as the chamber emptied. The imposter closed the distance. His leg shed out in a powerful kick that hammered into the captain's chest.

  The impact was devastating. Captain Stacy was sent flying backward, crashing into a a et, redug it to ruins in an explosion of shattering gss and splintering wood. His body y unmoving amidst the debris. Spider-Man lingered, surveying the destru with satisfa.

  The imposter's moment of grim triumph tly shattered, much like the et itself, when a sudden force struck him with staggering iy. Propelled by righteous anger, Peter delivered a powerful punch that sent Spider-Man hurtling out of the living room and into the hallway.

  As Peter dashed after the imposter who had brought such chaos into their lives, Gwen was ed with deep for her father. She began a slow, painstaking journey across the living room floor littered with shards of gss from the shattered coffee table and a et. The sharp edges dug mercilessly into her hands, arms, and legs as she crawled, heedless of the danger. Her singur focus was reag her father. Gwen persisted doggedly through the hazardous terrain, shards slig her palms, her eyes fixed on the crumpled form of her beloved father.

  Finally reag her father's side, she was fronted with the dire gravity of his dition. The man who had always been her pilr of strength and her protector now y injured and vulnerable before her. As the harsh reality sank in, tears welled in Gwen's eyes. Never before had she seen her father so helpless, sile.

  Her protector now needed proteg.

  Gwen cradled her father's broken body, her anguished sobs eg through the wreckage. Captain Stacy fought through excruciating pain to offer his daughter gentle reassurance. With great effort, he raised his trembling hand to her lips, a wordless plea for her to calm.

  "It's going to be okay," he rasped, his voice barely a whisper. Though weakened by his injuries, his words carried the firm vi of a father f his child, even in his darkest hour.

  "You're strong, Gwen. And smart," Captain Stacy said, each phrase punctuated by ragged breaths. A violent cough interrupted, speg his lips with blood. Uerred, he tinued, "Smarter than me. Make sure you go to school, a a good job. Take care of yourself."

  Gwen listened ily, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her father's steadfast resolve, despite his dition, inspired a sense of duty within her. "I will," she pledged, her voice barely a whisper against the swell of grief.

  The captain's eyes seemed to drift. He uttered a weighty request.

  "Promise me."

  Gwen leaned in close, her response immediate and unwavering. "I promise," she swore.

  "Promise me you'll get far away, somewhere safe. Away from Spider-Man."

  It was her father's desperate, dying wish; to see his only child safe from the dahat had iheir lives. His words struck her like a blow. To distance herself from Peter. But gazing down at her father's ear face, she khere was only one possible reply.

  "I promise," Gwen vowed solemnly.

  The silehat desded upon the room was deafening, broken only by the muffled sounds of the ongoing battle raging deeper in the apartment. Captain Stacy mustered the st remnants of his fading strength, his eyes brimming with paternal love as they found his daughter's tear-streaked face.

  "I'm so proud of you, Gwen," he whispered strained yet affeate. Though muted, his words resonated sincerely, veying a father's pride and admiration for the remarkable young woman he raised. He managed a tender smile.

  "I love you," he breathed.

  The simple phrase encapsuted a lifetime of cherished memories. Gwen's tears flowed freely down her cheeks, overe by anguish and disbelief. She clutched her father's hand, willing him to keep speaking, to offer any small measure of fort to ease her sorrow. Each fleeting sed felt like ay as she silently begged him to stay, praying he could withstand the pain and push back against the creeping darkrying to steal him away.

  But only silenswered her pleas, punctuated by her muffled sobs and the sounds of fighting. Captain Stacy's eyes had grown vat, enveloping Gwen in the deafening quiet of his absence. An ag chasm opened withihe profound and sudden loss leaving her bereft. She bowed her head, overe with grief.

  The image of her father's tender smile etched into her mind even as the light faded from his eyes.

  Behind the Ses

  - Throughout the MCU we see Tony Stark adapt to the threats he faces. This is evident early in the films. During Iron Man, he fixes the ig problem. In Iron Man 2, he gets zapped by Vanko's whips, and then in Avehor hits him with lightning, it supercharges his suit. Here we see Tyson demonstrate his illusions for Tony in Chapter 48, and by Chapter 56 (five days ter) he has already begun putting termeasures in pce.

  - Toions Indian Point is on its st legs. Indian Point was a nuclear reactor north of New York City that supplied 20-25% of the city's energy. The reactor was taken offline a few years ago IRL. Something else Toioned in the following paragraph was aer Egg.

  - Toions mutant powers range from 'pooping ice cream'. This is a refereo the ic character Soft Serve who has that power.

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