Chapter 70

  Arc 6 - Ch 3: Goodbye Spider

  Date: Friday, June 10, 2011.

  Location: Four Seasons Downtown, Manhattan, New York

  As the elevator asded to the top floor, the illusion of Tyson was entwined with Natasha. The illusion allowed him to experienents of closeness and e, albeit vicariously, through the sensory feedback. To them both it felt real, but Tyson couldn't kiss Natasha like that, it'd kill her. Over the months he'd been iy, his illusion power had beore profit, stronger, and precise. Maybe it was because Jason Stryker had never worked to improve his power, but Tyson was better with it than Jason ever was. Rogue's power, Tyson's base power, was a different story.

  He hadn't improved his trol of the life-draining tou the slightest.

  It was immensely frustrating.

  Tysohe way to his suite. By now he t at dividing his attentioween his tangible self and his illusory duplicates. Over time, Tyson had honed his abilities to su extent that managing dual presences had bee almost sed nature. It wasn't like being ambidextrous at this point, it was as effortless as g. During the Stark Expo, he'd pushed himself to his limits. He learhat a dozen people was the upper limit of what he could deeply influence; meaning sensing through their se a given time.

  The illusion, while providing a temporary escape from the straints of his actual power, also served as a reminder of the barriers his ability erected between him and a normal life.

  Or, perhaps, it was better to say, that his ability required that he erect barriers around himself to experience a normal life.

  As they he entrao his suite, Tyson resolved not to let his musings about his power dampen the evening ahead. This would be his st night with Natasha, and the woman was being an expert at ensuring they ehemselves without making skin tact. Plenty of tex, but no skin.

  Tyson opehe door and froze. His broad shoulders blocked Natasha's view of the se of devastation within his suite. His projected self, the illusion he maed, entangled with Natasha, mirrored his shock.

  "What the fuck," they said in a rare breach of Tyson's normally asynous illusion.

  The suite looked like a tornado had hit it, but the damage held an unnatural deliberateness. Every piece of furniture, and every belonging, seemed to have been singled out and attacked with focused destru, leaving only wreckage behind. Eve sink y ingruously in the hallway, undersg the bizarre destru.

  Natasha, uo see past Tyson's broad back filling the doorway, heard his shocked outburst but not the cause. "What's wrong?" she asked, fusion and evident.

  Tyson did not immediately reply. Cold fury rose within him, fury at this personal viotion. His eyes narrowed, as did his pupils, f into slits.

  Tyson muttered, "Intruders," in a low growl, alerting Natasha to the situation before allowing his primal instincts to take over and propel him into a. He dismissed his illusion. His cws extended with a sharp snikt as he unched into the suite with a powerful, feline leap.

  The torrent of adrenaliened his senses, granting him a moment of crity as he soared into the apartment. His keen senses picked up on the presence of a figure crumpled he entrance, and a familiar st in the air.

  Gwen.

  Her st; green apple, citrus, and mint, was tainted by the coppery tang of blood aer's mase musk, yet something was slightly off. Reition tempered the aggressive impulse still pounding through him. The brief flicker of fusion was enough to rein in his feral fury. With an effort of will, Tysoracted his adamantium cws.

  Searg the suite, Tyson's honed instincts assured him no other threats remaihere was an absence of unfamiliar sts, guaranteeing they were alone. His attention so the entryway where Gwen's prone form y in his living room.

  Natasha had crossed the threshold into the suite but, struggled to prehend the extent of the devastation id out before her. Her eyes swept across the chaotic wreckage, taking in the overturned furniture, shattered gss, aroyed decorations. She moved closer and reition dawned along with uanding. The prone body was a girl Natasha reized in passing from her time at Midtown atenda Tyson's Thanksgiving. Blood matted the girl's blonde hair, her limbs sprawled at awkward angles across the carpet. Natasha's chest tightened, but she forced her voiain steady.

  "Is that..." she began.

  "Gwen Stacy," Tyson cut her off with a growl, his rumbling voice clipped and urgent. "Peter's st is present."

  Natasha absorbed this information with a slow nod. Tyson's senses were far beyond human, if he sted Peter, then the boy had been here, tangled up in whatever had happened. But he was gone now, and only the aftermath remaihe immediate threat had passed, but Gwen needed help. Natasha's gaze hardened with resolve.

  "Call 911," she instructed Tyson briskly. "I'll do what I for her."

  At her dire, Tyson pletely reigned in his instincts arieved his phone. Natasha turned her attention to Gwen, cheg her vitals and assessing her injuries with a practiced eye. The girl was unscious but alive. Natasha heard Tyson leave the room, speaking rapidly to emergency services.

  Natasha took off Gwen's belt, ing it arouhigh. She had a ceration on her leg that still oozed slowly. She pulled the belt tight, using it as a makeshift tour.

  Her hands stilled wen's limp form as a sharp stied ohigh.

  Brow furrowing, she gnced down, expeg to see a gash marring her skin or a shard of gss protruding from her leg. But there was nothing.

  She brushed her fingers over the spot, probing for an unseen wound, but felt only a slight bump, no tacky wetness of blood or slice of pain. Perhaps a sliver of gss had pricked her when she k o Gwen, and it had already dislodged when she shifted her weight.

  Tyson reached uhe bathroom sink for the first aid kit when he heard Natasha's sharp hiss. "Are you alright?" his call carried from the other room, heavy with .

  There ause, a moment too long before Natasha's voice reached him. "I'm fine," Natasha called back, "It was just a prick." There was another pause before Natasha said, "Must have been a piece of gss I missed."

  Tyson answered some questions for the dispatcher as he returo Natasha with the first aid kit. She refocused on Gwen and worked to stabilize the girl until help could arrive.

  Oyson finished his call to 911 he tacted the hotel cierge to inform them so that the emergency responders could be directed to his suite. He put his phone on speaker and followed Natasha's instrus as they worked steadily on Gwe on some gloves from the first aid kit, allowing him to assist in stabilizing her without risking toug her and draining her life.

  The EMTs swept in with the singur foergency medical providers, swiftly taking wen's care from Natasha and Tyson. The transition was seamless despite the makeshift nature of the initial treatment. The EMTs transferred Gwen from the floor to a stretcher, hooking her up to IVs and monit equipment.

  Then a police officer arrived apanied by a hotel security guard, the officer surveyed the disarray in the suite, eyes sharp and assessing. The police officer turned his attention to Tyson after ensuring Gwen was in the capable hands of the EMTs. He pulled out a small notebook and prepared to dot Tyson's at of the evening's events.

  "Mr. Tyson," the officer began, his tone firm yet not unkind, "I uand this has been a distressing evening for you. I o ask you a few questions to help piece together what happened here. you walk me through when you st saw your suite before this i?"

  Tyson still reeled from the shock of the devastation and fwen. "I was here right after saybe around 3 pm but stayed only half an hour before leaving the hotel. I didn't e bay suite until just before we found... Gwen like this," he expined, his voice steady despite the turmoil he felt inside. "Before that, I was iel's restaurant for dessert,

  The officer made note of this, then gnced around the wrecked suite. "Did you notiything unusual when you entered? Any signs of forced entry, or was anything missing?"

  Tyson shook his head, his gaze sweeping over the chaos that had been his sanctuary. "No signs of forced entry that I could see. It's hard to tell if anything's missing with everything in this state."

  The officer hummed in aowledgment, scribbling down Tyson's responses. "Were you expeg Ms. Stacy or anyone else in your suite today? Do you know how she might have ended up here, or in this dition?"

  Tyson responded, "No. I wasn't expeg Gwen or anyone else. I... I don't know how she ended up here like this."

  The officer looked up from his notes, meeting Tyson's gaze. "I uand this is difficult, Mr. Tyson, but any information you provide could be crucial to our iigation. Do you know anyone who might have a motive to cause this destru or harm Ms. Stacy?"

  Tyson's mind raced as he sidered who would want twen, and who could get her up here. Not Peter, though his st all over the suite was still troubling. But that left Curt ors and… fuck.

  Norman Osborne.

  The police officer stood waiting patiently for Tyson's answer. He couldn't speak his thoughts, so he had to fabricate a reasonable response. "Gwen's father is NYPD, a captain I think," he began, carefully sidering his words. "They live out in Queens."

  The offiodded, his expression unreadable as he closed his notebook. "Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Tyson. We'll do everything we to get to the bottom of this. In the meantime, please stay avaible if we have further questions."

  As the officer left, Tyso a sense of unease. He watched as the EMTs maneuvered the stretcher holding an asheoward the elevator. The doors slid closed, bearing Gwen away to lifesaving care. In their wake, the devastation of the se felt more stark.

  Tyson moved toward the door, eager to escape the oppressive atmosphere of his now crime-se suite. Before he could cross the threshold, Natasha's hand shot out and grabbed his arm. He looked at her in surprise, but she gestured wordlessly to the shattered remains of the terrarium.

  "Fuck," Tysohed out as the realization struck him.

  His spider was gone.

  And with it went one of his pns faining a new superpower without killing someone. And when he was so close. They were in the final phases of acquiring Trask Industries. He'd been pnning to use their mutation-suppressing teology. Donning an inhibitor colr would have let him suppress his death touch long enough for the spider to bite and impart its gifts.

  But now that hope was lost. ors still had dy Moon’s blood sample at House of M, so all hope wasn’t lost, but it was much more of a longshot now.

  Together they exited the devastation of the suite, the officers closed the doors behind them to preserve the crime se.

  Tyson sank into one of the plush guest chairs in the lobby, fishing his cell pho of his pocket.

  Natasha's gaze flicked to the phone. "Who are you calling?"

  "Peter," Tyson replied, his fingers already dialing. "His st was everywhere in the room. If anyone expin what happened, it's him." Then he paused, thumb h over the call button as ahought occurred. " you call Maria Hill? Find out if Norman Osborn is still locked up on the RAFT." Osborn was one of the few others Tyson could think of with both motive and means to orchestrate Gwen's abdu.

  Natasha gave a curt nod, pulling out her phoo make the call. Around them the lobby buzzed with activity, hotel patrons ing and going, oblivious to the hidden drama unfolding in their midst.

  Tyson called Peter twice but received no answer. Peter's failure to pick up added to the urgend that had taken root in Tyson's gut.

  Natasha reported, "Osborn's firmed in his cell." Her update firmed oential suspect was locked away and uo orchestrate Gwen's abdu.

  Tyson dialed another number as he tapped his foot impatiently. Felicia Hardy answered on the sed ring. "Felicia," Tyson said without preamble, "I need you to che ors. Where is he right now?"

  Tyson could hear Felicia's nails g over a keyboard. As head of the House of M, she had access to the entire system. However, that might ge soon with Tony's promised AI.

  Felicia replied, "Dr. ors is showing as being in his b all afternoon," she reported. Her firmation did not expin the night's events, but it did eliminate another possibility, allowing Tyson and Natasha to refocus their suspis elsewhere.

  "Alright, thanks," Tyson said. "I'll fill you in ter." He disected and updated Natasha, "ors is ated for too."

  With each firmed location and alibi, potential suspects were eliminated, slowly pieg together a clearer picture of the night's events.

  Natasha asked, "What are you thinking?"

  Tyson sighed deeply before replying to Natasha's question. He wasn't sure what to think anymore.

  "Dr. ors and Norman Osborn were my best guesses sihey both knew Gwen Stacy," he said. "I hate to sider it, but Peter is looking more and more like the suspe the list."

  Tyson shook his head, dismissing the thought immediately. "But I know there's no way he'd hurt Gwen. Maybe he had fought with someone in my pce. Someone who didn't have a distinct st that I could detect..." Tyson's voice trailed off.

  "But who could that be?" he wondered aloud. "Even the Asgardians, who are teically aliens, had sts."

  Tyson stopped, rubbing his in ption before the answer dawned on him. "The only other person who es to mind is...Harry Osborn." Saying the loud ted the suspi in Tyson's mind. "Fuck," Tyson muttered under his breath as realization dawned on him. "It might be Harry."

  Natasha's brows furrowed in fusion as she asked, "Who's Harry?"

  Tyson leaned forward in his chair, l his voice as he replied. "Harry Osborn. Norman Osborn's sohe new CEO at Oscorp now. He'd have access to all the stuff Norman was w on, including that glider I gave ba during the Senate hearing." Tyson shook his head, tinuing his expnation. "But it doesn't fit perfectly. I didn't smell Harry or the glider's exhaust in the suite. And Norman favored those pumpkin bombs, which didn't match the destru."

  Natasha nodded slowly, abs this new information. "So he has the means and potentially a motive, but no physical evidence pces him at the se."

  "Exactly. Harry Osborn had just bee their prime suspect." Tyson firmed even though all of the puzzle pieces didn't quite fit together yet in his mind. There were still too many unknowns.

  Tyson's ph. He g the caller ID with a flicker of hope.

  Peter Parker (Home)

  "Here we go, maybe some answers," he muttered, hitting the speaker button to allow Natasha to listen in.

  To his surprise, it wasn't Peter's voice that greeted him, but Aunt May's. Her familiar, ed tone immediately sent a ripple of apprehension through Tyson. He hadn't heard her sound this worried sihe night they lost Uncle Ben.

  "Tyson?" she asked, her voice taut with tension.

  Tyson's heart sank, but he struggled to keep his voice steady. "Yes, Aunt May, it's me."

  The relief in her voice alpable as she replied, "Oh, thank goodness." Then she dropped a bombshell that sent Tyson's thoughts careening. "I just got a call from the police."

  Why would the police tact Aunt May? Tyson hadn't mentioned Peter during their earlier inquiry.

  Maintaining a calm facade, he asked, "What did they say?" But his attempt to sound casual did little to mask the growing tension and in his voice, for Peter's well-being and the unfolding plex situation.

  Tyson listened with a furrowed brow as Aunt May's distressed voice veyed the gravity of the situation. He amplified and projected her voice using his illusion power so that Natasha alone could listen.

  "Oh, Tyson, it's awful. Peter was with Gwen, at her house. Spider-Man attacked them. They fouer, he was beaten and tied up in webbing. Gwen's dad was killed, and Gwen is missing. Her mother is beside herself."

  As Aunt May reyed the harrowis, Tyson and Natasha exged looks of disbelief and fusion. The mention of Spider-Man attag Peter, wheer ider-Man unbeknownst to her, the tragic loss of Gwen's father, and Gwen's sudden disappearance followed by her perplexing appeara his suite painted a picture that her of them could recile with their uanding of the voluted situation.

  Tyson asked, "Where is Peter now?" still trying to process the shog news.

  "In the hospital, of course," Aunt May responded, worried but relieved that Peter was at least receiving medical care.

  Without hesitation, Tyson replied, "Tell Mrs. Stacy that Gwen is hurt, but she'll be okay, she's on her way to the hospital. And I'm ing too. I'll see you soon." His decision was immediate, driven by loyalty to Peter and the urgeo piece together the events that had occurred that afternoon.

  Tyson and Natasha stepped into the bustling hospital, the air was thick with tension and the sharp st of aiurses rushed past, their shoes squeaking against the polished floor as they navigated between worried families and stern-faced doctors.

  Tyson's enhanced senses picked up the faint beeping of heart monitors. "We o find out if they took a blood sample from Peter. If they did, I need you to get it."

  "You're worried about his identity being promised." she guessed.

  Tyson nodded, his jaw ched. "If they rus, they might find something... unusual. We 't risk that."

  Without another word, Natasha slipped away, disappearing around a er. Tyson watched her go, marveling at her ability to blend seamlessly with her surroundings. Even in this chaotiviro, she moved unnoticed and unremarkable.

  He went to the nurse's station. "I'm looking for Peter Parker's room," he said.

  "Visiting hours e 9 pm." The nurse said, gnced up. Wheired eyes met Tyson's mismatched ohey softened. She tapped at her puter before responding, "Room 307, just down the hall to your left."

  Tyson thanked her and then he heard a otion ing from that dire. He set off, his long strides eating up the distance quickly. The hospital room was in chaos when Tyson arrived. The sight that greeted him made his heart ch.

  Peter had awoken in a panic, frantically trying to leave his bed to search fwee his injuries. The medical staff struggled in vain to restrain him.

  Tyson jured a brilliant fsh of light, enveloping the room in a sudden, disorienting fre.

  "Rex, Pete. Gwen is fine," he said, imbuing the statement with a weight of assurance backed by his illusion. Still blinking against the lingering effects of the fsh, Peter reized the familiar voice.

  "Tyson?" he asked uainly, relief mixing with fusion.

  "Yeah man, it's me," Tyson firmed. He dispelled the lingering disorientatio crity to Peter's vision. With the immediate crisis averted, the medical team gradually dispersed, ohey reized Peter's newly calmed state and with some gentle nudging from Tyson's power. They left the room. In their wake, a heavy siletled over the pair, punctuated only by the steady beep and hum of monit equipment.

  Tyson surveyed his friend, taking ient of Peter's injuries with a critical eye. The bruises and abrasions painted a vivid picture of violence across Peter's swolleures. His face was a mottled vas of bruises and cuts. His right eye was swollen shut, and his lip lit and puffy. It was clear he had endured a severe beating at the hands of his mysterious attacker.

  With the staff goyson leaned in, urgend etched into his expression. "What happened?" he pressed, eager to uhe events that had battered his friend so extensively a Gwen in a simir state in his apartment.

  Peter reted the csh as steadily as he could, though the strain of the trauma threaded his voice. He detailed the altercation with the imposter Spider-Man, holding nothing back. Tyson listened ily. His features tightened into a frown as the harrowing at unfolded. The gravity of the situation deepened with each word.

  As Peter cluded, Tyson aimed to identify this formidable foe. "Was his suit bck?" he inquired pointedly.

  Peter dismissed the notion with a shake of his head. "No, it was mostly red like mine."

  Tyson grew more specifi his questioning, hoping to narrow the possibilities.

  "So it wasn't moving or ging shape and size? No tendrils streaming off of it?" He asked, hinting at symbiote traits.

  Peter's fusion at the line of inquiry was evident. "No..."

  Tyso out a sigh of relief. The st thing he wao deal with was a Venom or age situation.

  Tyson's questions became more specific as he struggled to uhe puzzle id out before him. "Did he have six arms?" he asked. Tyson remembered seeing a picture of a Spider-Man doppelganger, on the i, that had six arms.

  "Uhh, no," Peter replied, clearly having difficulty keeping pace with Tyson's rapidly shifting questions.

  With easwer, Tyson found himself even more perplexed. The identity of the assaint tio elude him. Who could have possessed the strength and agility parable to Peter's while knowing their personal lives? This individual had orchestrated an assault that left Peter gravely injured and had utilized Tyson's apartment as a stage fwen's injuries, suggesting a deeply personal vea. The absence of any telling characteristics like additional limbs or a symbiote suit only pouhe mystery, leaving Tyson to pte the uling list of potential suspects who could have both the capability and motive to execute such a calcuted attack.

  Tyson's solemnly asked, "Do you trust me?"

  His tone was grave, indig to Peter that he was about to reveal something signifit.

  "Of course," Peter immediately responded.

  Tyson shifted uneasily, the weight of his words pressing heavily on him. He locked eyes with Peter, ensuring he had his full attention. "Peter, there's something about my abilities I haven't shared with you," he began, "My power isn't just about creating illusions. When I make direct skin tact I temporarily absorb other's powers and memories. It's a part of why I'm always covered up... to avoid actal tact."

  Peter's eyes widened in surprise, but he remained silent, allowing Tyson to tinue. "It's a double-edged sword, though," Tyson admitted, "It be lethal if the tact is prolohat's why I've never risked toug you or anyone else unless necessary."

  Peter absorbed the implications of Tyson's words. Tyson pressed on, the urgency of their situation lending a tremor to his voice. "I'm to use this ability to access your memories from the attack. It might give us a clue about who's behind this. But I o be clear. It will give me access to everything, not just the memories of the attack. Your memories aire life's worth of experiences and your powers. It'll only be for a minute, but I wanted you to know."

  Peter remained silent as the magnitude of Tyson's request sank in. The trust Tyson was asking for was moal, yet the desperation of their circumstances left them with few options. Finally, Peter spoke, "Tyson, if you think this help find whoever did this... do it. I trust you."

  Tyson raised his hand to hover in the space between them. "All it takes is a high five, then," he said, the ghost of his usual humor peeking through despite the gravity of their situation.

  Tyson's hand hovered between them. Peter stared at it for a long moment. This was no small thing Tyson asked of him. To willingly allow another person access to his innermost memories, his powers required plete trust, the kind that left one vulnerable and exposed. But Peter khe y of their situation. If Tyson's ability could shed any light on who was behind the attack, it was a risk worth taking.

  Steeling himself, Peter spped Tyson's hand in affirmatioensed, unsure what to expect.

  Tyson used his illusions to mask the life-draining effects of his touch. Still, the brief tact reverberated through Tyson's mind and body with the force of a shockwave. He saw fshes of Peter's life. It was over in a moment that felt like a lifetime.

  His early childhood was marked by tragedy when his parents, were killed. At six years old, he was orphaned and taken in by his loving aunt and uncle, May and Ben Parker. Growing up in Forest Hills, Queens, he was a quiet, introspective child. He buried himself in books and sce, finding so the world of knowledge. His intellige him apart while making him a target for bullies. Despite the challenges, he was always at the top of his css, particurly in sce.

  High school at Midtown High was a mix of academic triumphs and social struggles. He was beled a "nerd" and ofte like an outsider. This deepened his friendship with Harry Osborn, Harry wasn't as academically ined as Peter, but their shared experiences as outsiders brought them together.

  He harbored a crush on Mary Jason for years, but always felt too shy and awkward to a his feelings. Everything ged during that fateful field trip. He was taking a photo of MJ when a spider bit him on the hand. His new friend, Tyson helped him home, but that night, he fell ill. When he awoke, Peter discovered he had undergone a startling transformation. His vision had improved. His body had beore muscur and toned. Most shogly, he ter found he could stick to walls and had developed an uny "spider-sehat warned him of danger.

  Excited by his new abilities, he initially saw them as a way to make money and gain popurity. He designed a e, adopting the moniker "Spider-Man" to pete in an amateur wrestling match. His newfound success went to his head, and he became careless. This carelessness led to the most defining moment of his life. When a thief ran past him, he didn't bother to stop him, thinking it wasn't his problem. That same thief ter murdered his Uncle Ben. ed by guilt and grief, he realized that with great power es great responsibility. He vowed to use his abilities to protect the i and fight crime as Spider-Man.

  Bang his new life as a superhero, academic pursuits, plus his retionship with Gwen Stacy, all while keeping his secret identity proved challenging.

  His first major vilins as Spider-Man came in the form of the Green Goblin, Kraven the Hunter, and the Lizard. But along the way he gained an ally in Tyson, Mirage, and his girlfriend Gwen who he revealed his identity to.

  Despite the hardships, he wouldn't trade his life for anything. Because being Spider-Man wasn't just a responsibility, it was who he was.

  Tyson's eyes had closed during the fleeting moment of tact. He took a moment to parse Peter's memories of the fight at Gwen's. His initial look of tration slowly gave way to crity.

  Peter tentatively asked, "Did it work?"

  In respoysoended his arm toward the far er of the hospital room with his middle and ring fingers bent. To Peter's amazement, a small web line shot forth, crafting an unobtrusive spiderweb against the ceiling in the er.

  Peter's quickly resurfaced. "Do you know who did this?" he asked ily, desperately hoping for a breakthrough.

  The hint of a smile faded from Tyson's face as he replied, "Not yet. But your memories helped rule out a lot of potential suspects."

  Tyson stood, his movements slow and thoughtful. Turning to Peter, he gently reassured, "Rest up, Pete. Gwen's safe. She's resting too." His words were meant to provide some small measure of fort.

  "I'll look into this," Tyson tinued, "If I figure out who was behind the attack, I'll let you know. And I'll help you take them down, whatever it takes."

  He headed to the hospital lounge and leaned bato one of the overstuffed chairs. Tyson tapped the back of his head against the wall behind him gently, in thought, making a dull thunk each time it made tact. He was pting the revetions from his glimpse into Peter's memories.

  Natasha joined him. He looked over, notig she wore a loose-fitting sweatsuit instead of her dress, which had been stained with blood and torn from the gss around his apartment. She slid the vial of Peter's blood to him, which he quickly pocketed. After a respectful silence, she gently prompted, "Walk me through it?" inviting him to unburden himself by sharing his insights.

  Without a word, Tyson engaged his illusionary abilities around them to eheir versation remained private. The subtle manipution of their surroundings was sed nature to him now, an almost reflexive precaution.

  "It ider-Man who attacked them. And I don't say that lightly. I thought it could just be an imposter. Maybe someone who'd taken the goblin formu or a mutant with agility and strength had decided to hit Spider-Man where it hurt while wearing the e." He paused, letting the implication of his clusion sink in. "But this guy shot webs too. It wasn't just se dressing to frame Spider-Man, he used the webs in bat."

  "Okay, so who does that leave?" Natasha asked, ready to help piece together the puzzle. Her questions aided in fog Tyson's thoughts.

  "As far as I know, we have four potential situations," he began.

  "Firstly, it could be someone else was bitten by the same spider as Peter. That seems the least far-fetched option. There were plenty of other students from Midtowhat day. Someone might have been bitten before I arrived. Other students would know both me aer."

  "As for who might have the motivation tet us," Tyson cluded, "Fsh Thompson ranks high on my list of suspects. But it doesn't match up. If Fsh had been bitten at the same time as Peter, he would've shown signs while we were at Midtown, there was the basketball game and the fight, and he seemed normal then."

  "Damn," Natasha muttered under her breath. She remembered Fsh Thompson from being undercover as a student-teacher at Midtown High. Tyson was right that Fsh would have the motive to go after Peter and himself. After a thoughtful pause, she prompted, "Ok so not Fsh, someone who flew below the radar. What's the sed possibility?"

  Tyson tirying to piece together the puzzle before them. "The sed sario is someone mimicked Peter's powers." he said, "Peter's webbing could be made with enough chemistry knowledge, and a web-shooter could be created. This opens up a broader range of potential suspects, but then reduces it, sidering the bination of teological prowess, physical strength, and agility o simute Spider-Man's abilities."

  "Or a straight-up power duplicator," Tyson added, expanding oion of a mimic. "But those are rare enough that I 't think of others besides myself."

  Tyson's voice took on a grave tohe third possibility is that someone mao e Peter. There's only one person I think of who could do so, and I seriously hope I'm wrong."

  "Who?" Natasha asked, pressing for the identity of this individual.

  Relut to even utter the ysoed to his abilities, creating an illusionary duplicate that annouhe name he hesitated to speak.

  "Nathaniel Essex, otherwise known as Mr. Sinister."

  Using an illusion to vey this information underscored Tyson's reluatasha ected the dots, pinning the o Essex Corp. She asked in follow-up, "He's that bad?" trying to gauge the level of threat he posed.

  "He's on the short list of people I hope to avoid fighting," he admitted, revealing the depth of his regarding the potential involvement of Mr. Sinister. Natasha kyson was aced to danger. He hadn't hesitated to fight the Abomination. He cimed to have fought a Nod. The fact that he wao avoid Essex highlighted how dangerous this… Mr. Sinister must be.

  "And what's the st sario, dare I ask?" Natasha ventured.

  Tyson exhaled heavily, his rugged features betraying the plexity of the final theory taking shape in his mind. "Even more of a headache... dimensional or time shenanigans," he began slowly, "We could be dealing with a Spider-Man from an alternate universe, or an alterimeline. Maybe a Peter Parker that went bad, or where Fsh Thompson got bit instead of Peter, or maybe a future Peter or a desdant of Peter who came ba time." Natasha reacted with stunned silence, her eyes blinking rapidly as she struggled to process the scope of Tyson's suggestion. The notion of alternate realities and time travel introduced a dizzying level of uability and plexity that was difficult to grasp. Sensing Natasha's skepticism, Tyson pressed, "I know it sounds far-fetched, but remember how I told you about your future. Time travel is possible..." His voice trailed off meaningfully, willio sider the full range of improbable possibilities they now faced.

  The future he spoke of seemed so far away, yet the dahey faced was anything but.

  Natasha cocked her head, red curls spilling over her shoulder as she sidered their situation from a new angle. "Let's step back for a moment since we're getting abstract about this," she proposed. Tyson nodded, gesturing for her to tinue. "You believe the universe pushes back the more you ge things, right?" she pressed on. "So Peter and Gweing attacked by some faker wasn't part of your vision. So what did you ge to make all this happen?"

  Tyson frowned, brows knitting together in sternation. Natasha's reasoning forced him into deep introspe as he mentally sifted through the myriad as and decisions he had made that could have iently set this deadly of events into motion. The sileweeretched as Tysoled with the implications of her suggestion. Then a moment of stark realization dawned on his features. He let out a heavy exhale, den with the weight of aowledgment.

  "Fuck. It's probably my fault," he ceded quietly.

  As Tyson expined further, his voice took on a tone ret. "Curt ors. I stopped him before he could unleash his pn oy." He paused, shaking his head before tinuing. "ors was supposed to try iing everyoh that damned lizard serum. Spider-Man would've had to stop him, but not before..." His voice trailed off meaningfully.

  Natasha's emerald eyes narrowed with uanding. "Before Peter got hurt trying to stop him," she finished for him. "And Gwen's father was supposed to die too."

  "You think this is just blowback?" she tinued, her tole yet probing. "The universe's way of correg itself? Making sure he still dies, even if ors doesn't unleash the serum?"

  Tyson's response was heavy with resignation. "Yeah. It makes sehe results are mostly the same."

  Natasha nodded slowly, pieg together the implications. "So you took ors off the board..."

  "And now some new piece got added to repce him," Tyson finished with a muttered agreement. "Sure seems like it."

  Natasha's observation highlighted the uable nature of his as' sequences; removing ohreat could iently give rise to another.

  Tyson's senses picked up on the subtle ges in Natasha's demeanor as they sat in pensive silence. A thin sheen glistened on her brow, and her fair skin had taken a pale pallor that drew his attentive eye.

  "You okay?" he asked, uo keep the from his voice.

  Natasha brushed aside his worry with a flippa. "Yeah, I'm just tired. I was hoping someone would've put me to bed by now," she quipped, her suggestive uoemporarily lightening the somber mood that had settled over their weighty versation.

  "You should stay with Peter. I think I'll head over to the RAFT to get some rest," she said. "Do you need a pce to stay since your room's a crime se and got trashed?"

  "Nah, I've got spare rooms back at the House of M," Tyson replied, waving off her offer. "I did promise him at the Expo that I'd expin why I have a metal skeleton. I suppose now is as good a time as any."

  Natasha raised a bck-gloved hand to her lips before pg it gently upon Tyson's own, the heartwarmiure was den with unspokeions.

  "I'll see you in a few months. Be safe," she said, promising their eventual reunion.

  "You too," Tyson echoed softly.

  As the Bck alked away, Tyson was left with the lingering warmth of her farewell upon his lips and the stark reminder of the nature of their retionship.

  Her retreating figure was a familiar sight. It echoed the cycle of brief enters and partings that had defiheir lives.

  Author’s Note

  At this point, we’ve seen enough of Kaio uand his character. Oroe, there’s a Poll to Decide Kaine’s Fate. It doesn’t cost anything to vote. But move fast, the poll will only be up through the weekend. The chapter is mostly written, its really just what happens to Kaihat’s left. So vote if you care to. Check out the other stuff if you want to. No pressure. Because, I know what I want to do with Kaine, but the poll has been up for a week and the Patrons have other ideas. See the support plug.

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