Date: Saturday, March 5, 2011.

  Location: Empire Suite, Four Seasons Downtown, Manhattan, New York

  Inviting sts filled the air of Tyson's Manhattan apartment on the first Saturday evening in March. He had invited his friends Peter and Gwen over for dinner. As the three sat around the dining table, Gwen twirled some pasta onto her fork and then took a bite. "Tyson, this is amazing!" she excimed after swallowing the perfectly cooked spaghetti. "I didn't know you could cook."

  "Yeah, man, this is great," Peter agreed, though his eating teique was messier and there were small dots of sauce at the ers of his mouth.

  "Thanks," Tyson replied modestly, "but I 't take much credit. I just pted the food. I 't imagine ever being able to cook something like this myself."

  The three friends chatted casually at first, about school, news around the city, and little details of their day-to-day lives. But Tyson's expression grew more solemn as the meal started winding dowurned his gaze to Peter. "Pete," he began, looking his friend in the eyes, "I know we've had our differences, especially about how to hahe bad guys in this city." He paused. "But I want you to know that you're one of my truest friends. I hope you feel the same way about me."

  Peter looked down at his pte for a moment, caught off guard. But then he smiled sincerely back up at Tyson. "Of course, man. Since we first met, you've had my back. That means a lot to me."

  Tyson nodded slowly before tinuing. "I know it's been difficult for you sincle Ben died. I want to help… financially."

  Peter's face tensed, his hands fidgeting with the napkin. "I appreciate the offer, but I don't need handouts. I manage on my own."

  "It's not a handout," Tyson insisted early, "Police officers are paid for their work. You do the same oreets, even more, yet receive nothing. That's unfair. Your efforts warrant pensation."

  Gwen, listening ily, agreed. "He's right. You risk yourself daily and deserve support."

  Peter looked between them, seeing their . He sighed, sidering, then asked with tentative curiosity, "Alright, what did you have in mind?"

  Tyso out a breath, relieved that Peter en to sidering his offer. "I've been thinking," he began, his eyes alight with a mix of excitement and earness, "about putting on illusion shows. One of the shows I want to create is 'Spider-Man.' We'd charge admission, and si's your story, a portion of the ticket sales would go directly to you, Pete."

  Peter's eyebrows shot up in surprise at the ued idea. He looked a bit uneasy but intrigued. "Shows, huh?" he mused, scratg the back of his neck. "But my identity. I 't have people knowing who I am or anything about my personal life."

  Gwen's brow furrowed in fusion. "Illusion shows? What are you talking about?" she asked. A moment ter, her eyes widened with realization. She pointed an accusatory fi Tyson and excimed, "You're Mirage! That's how he," Catg herself, Gwen corrected, "I mean, that's how you got there so quickly when the Lizard attacked. You were already at school!"

  Tyson grinned cheekily. "Guilty as charged," he admitted. "Two superheroes in this city. One's your boyfriend, and the other's your b partner. What are the odds?"

  Shaking her head in disbelief, Gwen struggled to her mind around the revetion that both her best male friends had secret identities. The idea that she had been w alongside Mirage all this time without realizing it was astonishing.

  "Don't worry about any reveals," Tyson quickly assured Peter, waving a hand dismissively. "I'll keep your identity a secret. We'll use generic identities instead of real ones. So instead of Aunt May, the audience would see a 'motherly figure.' No real names, no real faces, just the essence of the story.

  Gwen nodded, looking impressed. "That's a clever approach," she said approvingly. "It maintaier's privacy while allowing his story to inspire others."

  Peter leaned back, regarding Tyson with a neraisal. "You've thought this through, haven't you?"

  Tyson gave a small, sheepish smile. "Yeah, I guess I have. I just...I see the things you do, Pete. You're out there every day, risking yourself for everyone else. You deserve to have someone looking out for you too." The room fell silent as Tyson's ear words sank in.

  The stant struggle to bance responsibilities weighed oer, but he persevered because there was no other option. Finally resolving himself, Peter met Tyson's gaze. "Okay, let's try it," he agreed, a tentative but hopeful smile emerging.

  Tyson nodded solemnly, uanding the gravity of Peter's trust. "We'll be discreet. You have my word."

  Gwen covered Peter's hand with hers. For the first time in too long, Peter felt a ray of optimism that he might not have to bear the world's troubles alone.

  "Want a preview?" Tyson asked eagerly.

  Peter blinked, surprised. "You've got it pnned already?"

  Gwen ented, "I'd love to see what you've prepared."

  "Have a seat," Tyson directed. "Full immersion be disorienting at first."

  The suite melted away around them, repced by a se of a quaint living room. Tyson, in his Mirage e, helped an exhausted young man through the doorway into the home. The young man's grandparents approached, reizing his weakeate. But he expined his fatigue away to the ed grandparents, whose faces were adjusted to be generic retirees for anonymity. "I just o sleep it off," the young man said.

  The sun outside the bedroom's window, set then rose, indig the passage of time. When the young man woke, his world had ged. The observers could nearly taste his astonishment as he discovered unfamiliar muscles rippling under his skin. The story unfolded from there in a montage of discovery; tentative climbs up sheer building walls, web-swinging across the rooftops, and a wrestling match against a massive man. The crowd's cheers were an almost tangible presence.

  Then the mood shifted, weighted down by a terrible se. The young man's grandfather fell to the sidewalk, struck down by a criminal over a petty squabble. The grief was overwhelming in its iy, the desire for justice burning bright in the young man's eyes.

  Throughout the unfolding drama, Peter and Gwen sat silent and rapt. Peter's heart ched at the thinly disguised truth of his past spyed out before them, the core of his journey untouched despite the anonymity of the characters. It was strao see his life acted out by mysterious actors. He sat in silence as the living room around him settled bato its familiar shapes and colors. The emotional weight of what he had just witill hung over him, though the images themselves had faded away. Beside him, Gwe out a soft breath. "That was...incredible," she said, her voice filled with awe. Tears glistened in her eyes.

  Peter did not respht away. His own eyes were distant, turned inward as he wrestled with the memories and feelings that had been stirred up by the vivid dramatization. After a long moment, he looked up ayson's expet gaze. "You did good," Peter told him seriously. "Really good."

  Tyson's shoulders sagged in relief and a grin spread across his face. "It's all about the story, Pete," he replied eagerly. "And you've got one of the best." He knew he had ventured onto sacred ground by retelling even a veiled version of Peter's past. But it was a story worth telling, ohat could potentially inspire tless others. "But that's only the first act!" Tyson excimed. Excitement in on his face as the living room began to morph and ge around them once more.

  The living room transformed into a dense jungle se. Spider-Man, his signature red and blue e, swung gracefully betweerees, pursued by the hunter, Kraven. The branches shed as Kraven urap after trap, but Spider-Man evaded eae with acrobatic fir, the tensioing as he narrowly escaped capture again and again.

  The lush greens of the imagined tral Park jungle faded away, repced by the vibrant floats, musid crowds of a parade. The festive atmosphere was shattered by a sudden explosion, chaos taking hold as panic swept through the masses. But Spider-Man was there weaving through the mayhem, battling the Green Goblin and helping terrified civilians to safety.

  Gwen watched the se unfold with a proud smile toug her lips. "That's the Spider-Man I know," she murmured.

  The parade dissolved, revealing Kraven once more, this time ambushing Spider-Man. But Mirage was there, engaging the vilin in fierce melee bat. After an intense exge of blows, Mirage defeated Kraven.

  The se shifted without pause, revealing the Green Goblin bursting into vie his glider. He cackled maniacally as he hurled pumpkin bombs down upon the Queensbore below. Cars screeched to halts and people screamed in terror at the sudden chaos. The vilin held a frightened young woman and a cable car brimming with hostages suspended precariously over the edge. In a heart-stopping moment, Spider-Man mao rescue the hostages from their peril while Mirage distracted the Goblin.

  Then abruptly the setting ged again. They now stood on a different bridge, but this time Mirage was locked in fierbat with a massive, reptiliaure, the Lizard. The two cshed violently, their battle ending with the Lizard forced to retreat, leaping from the bridge to the waters below. Mirage peered over the edge, following the creature's dest until he hit the water and disappeared from view. The sery then transitioned seamlessly from just uhe surface of the dark river, rising into the dank fines of the sewer tunnels beh the city. There, it ider-Man that frohe Lizard. Water spshed and echoed off the walls as the two tumbled through the narrow tunnels, each fighter struggling to gain the advantage over the other.

  Gwen held onto the sofa's edge, leaning forward as the fight tinued. "This is so thrilling," she murmured, aer nodded, equally engrossed.

  The final ge brought them to Midtown High, the school looked ordinary at first until the Lizard crashed into view, with Spider-Man right behind him. They watched the fierce battle unfold through the halls Peter knew so well, leading to a battle in the library, with a humorously oblivious librarian, and ending with Spider-Maangling the lizard within an enclosed breezeway.

  As the illusion faded and they returo Tyson's living room, Peter and Gwen were briefly speechless, the echoes of the battles still ringing in their ears.

  "Tyson, that was... unbelievable," Gwen said, her voice filled with wonder.

  Peter's emotions, a whirlwind of pride, nostalgia, and a touch of sorrow, could only nod in agreement. Seeing his journey, his battles, and his itment to being a hero portrayed through Tyson's illusions was overwhelming. "You've turned my life into an epic tale," Peter finally managed, his voice steady despite the storm inside.

  Tyson, looking gratified, replied, "It's not fi, Pete. It's a tribute. You're the real hero, I'm just here to make sure the world sees the amazing Spider-Man the way I do."

  — Rogue Rept —

  The m sun gleamed off the t gss and steel edifice of the Oscorp building. Inside, Harry Osborn, the you CEO in the pany's history, adjusted his tie with shaky hands as he prepared to face his first corporate board meeting siaking the reins of the family business. The shadow cast by his father, Norman's, fall from grace still hauhe halls of Oscorp, and the weight of his new role settled heavily on Harry's slender shoulders.

  Harry ehe sleek boardroom, dominated by a long polished table that gleamed uhe recessed lighting. Stern faces greeted him, veterans of the business world with decades more experiehan Harry's st years alive. Impeccably dressed in sharp suits, they trasted Harry's youthful appearance, making him feel out of p his iance.

  "Mr. Osborn," greeted Mr. Davis, the lead board member, his voice cool and measured. "We trust you're aware of the urgent matters on today's agenda."

  Harry swallowed, finding his voice. "Yes. The ret is involving... my father and Dr. ors." Voig it aloud felt surreal. Each event was another blow to his family's tarnished legacy.

  "Exactly," Mrs. Cho interjected sharply, tapping her pen with impatience. "Oscorp's reputation is teetering on the precipice. We've been dragged through the mud, tainted by association with the Green Goblin fiasot to mentioheft of our experimental serums."

  Harry swallowed, his throat dry. The cool gaze of the Oscorp board members weighed upon him as they awaited his respohey expected solutions from the young Osborn s.

  "We need damage trol," Mr. Davis stated, his tone brooking nument. "And strategies to secure our assets. What are your pns, Mr. Osborn?"

  Harry felt sweat beading his brow. He had spent night after night p over pas, security protocols, and PR strategies, but it all seemed ie now. "I-I have been w on upgrading our security system and reag out to the best PR firms iy," he stammered, trying to project more fidehan he felt.

  Mr. Davis raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched on his face. "And the experimental serums that disappeared? The public is as of yet unaware that the Lizard is Dr. ors, if that informatios out how will you ha? And the glider stolen by Mirage? How do you pn to retrieve it?"

  "I io work with w enfort and politis to force Mirage to returolen property," Harry replied. The words felt fn on his tongue as he straio sound ving. "Additionally, I pn to audit our internal processes to prevent future security breaches. As for Dr. ors, should wet out, we'll disavow his as as a stist gue. Disassociate his h Oscorp."

  The board members exged gheir doubt was tangible. They were aced to Norman Osborn's bold, assertive leadership. Harry's tentative manner was a stark trast.

  "Your father had a... formidable presence," Mrs. Cho said, not unkindly. "He made difficult decisions, for better or worse. you fill his shoes, Harry?"

  Harry was trying to preserve his father's legacy, to bee the man his father wanted him to be. But uheir expet gazes, he felt ie. He had never expected to take the reins of his iance so soon.

  "I know I'm not my father," he said, meeting their doubtful gazes unflingly, "But I am an Osborn. This pany is my legacy, and I'll do everything in my power to protect it aore its name."

  Silence fell over the room as the board members weighed his words. Harry resisted the urge to fill the sileh further justifications. He had said what he o say. Now his fate rested in their hands.

  After a pause that felt to Harry like ay, Mr. Davis finally nodded. "Very well, Mr. Osborn. You have our support, for now." His tone made it clear the probationary period would be brief. "But be aware, we will be monit the situation closely. Results are what matter at the end of the day."

  Harry exhaled in relief. It was a small victory, but also a clear warning. The board would be watg him. He would o prove himself, and quickly.

  The ret board meeting had left Harry determio shift Oscorp's trajectory. The public catastrophes of the ons and biotech divisions' failures needed decisive a to terbahem. Beh his calm demeanor, his mind raced. Stark Industries made waves with its energy advas with the Arc reactor, but Oscorp had an ace up its sleeve. Dr. Octavius's energy project otential game-ger. Harry needed a win, and this could be his ce to not only restore Oscorp's tarnished image but also step out from his father's shadow in a way that would make Norman proud.

  He called his assistant te a meeting with Dr. Octavius. Hearing the urgen Harry's voice, she promptly set it up.

  The sharp, metallic st of teology permeated Dr. Octavius's b, mingling with the stant hum of maery. Amidst the anized chaos of blueprints and prototype models, the dreeted Harry Osborn with a firm handshake. "Harry, to what do I owe the pleasure?" inquired Dr. Octavius, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

  Harry csped his hands behind his back, desperation hiddeh his practiced corporate poise as he surveyed the b. "Doc, I'll cut to the chase. Oscorp needs a win, something to get us ba the public's good graces and appease the board. Your energy project is our best shot."

  Dr. Octavius nodded. "I'm aware of the pany's ret difficulties, Harry. But the prototype isn't ready for a rge-scale demo yet. There are variables I still o test."

  Pag, pressure mounted on Harry's shoulders. "The Stark Expo is ing up. Imagine if we could upstage Stark's presentation with our breakthrough. We could ge the narrative, focus on Oscorp's tributions to the future rather than its past failures."

  Removing his gsses, Dr. Octavius sidered the desperate yet hopeful young CEO before him. He couldn't help but muse that he was so unlike his ruthless father. "It's risky. But if it could reshape Oscorp's story, it may be worth trying. I'll need more resources though. Staff, equipment, funds."

  "Whatever you need, Doc. I believe in your work," Harry assured fervently. He envisioned a future for Oscorp rising from the ashes of his father's fall. "This could be the fresh start we need."

  Harry strode through Oscorp Tower, shoulders burdened uhe weight of his family's legacies and the expectations that came with them. The tower was a hive of innovation as, many of them dangerous. But Harry's stop wasn't about the good of the pany. He'd left that in Dr. Octavius's hands. His destination ersonal.

  Dr. Miles Warren's b stood in stark trast to Dr. Octavius's chaotic workspace. Warren's department ristine and ical, every instrumely in its ordained pce, creating an envirohat mirrored the precisioic research required. Dr. Warren himself was a lean man, his sharp features softened by a polite smile.

  "Dr. Warren," Harry greeted as he ehe b, extending a hand, which Warren shook with surprising firmness.

  "Mr. Osborn," Warren nodded, his voice smooth and cultured. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

  Harry inhaled, steeling himself. "After Dr. ors's... i, Oscorp needs stability, especially in eics division. I want you to lead it, Miles. I've seen your researd your ambition. You're what we need now."

  Warren's polite smile widened just a fra, in a subtle aowledgment of the pliment. "That's a substantial task, especially in light of ret events."

  Harry's words carried a fidence he did not truly feel as he told Warren, "And I believe you do it." He reached inside his coat arieved a carefully sealed vial. "This," Harry tinued, "is a sample I discreetly collected from the battle at Midtown High. It's Spider-Man's blood."

  Warren's eyes sharpened as the possibilities that the sample represented settled heavily upon him. "This is araordinary opportunity, Harry. The geic potential—"

  "—is immense," Harry interrupted, an edge creeping into his voice. "Spider-Man and Mirage, they've made a mess of Oscorp's reputation, of my family's legacy. Uanding his geics, what makes him...him, could be key to reg what we've lost."

  Warren regarded Harry carefully, reading the pain and subtle fury etched into the young CEO's face. "You're looking for more than uanding, aren't you, Harry?"

  The muscles in Harry's jaw tightened as he ground his teeth. His father's ignoble fall from grace, the chaos unleashed at Midtown High, Mirage fisg their multi-billion dolr military project… It all circled his mind like vultures over a carcass, peg away at his posure.

  "I want Oscorp restored to its flory," he said finally, his voice low but firm. "To once agaiouchable. If this research gives us an advantage, protects us from future... threats," his eyes bored into Warren's, "then it's a path we must follow. If Spider-Man and Mirage are knocked doeg, or removed from the board entirely, in the process, then so much the better."

  Dr. Warren nodded slowly, "You'll have my full discretion and dedication, Harry. This could redefine Oscorp, and perhaps even the world."

  Harry exhaled, the pressure on his chest momentarily easing. "Do what you must, Miles. Just...keep me informed."

  "Of course, Mr. Osborn."

  As Harry left the b, vial in hand, the implications of what he'd set in motion loomed ominously. He ying a dangerous game. His father had pyed a simir one, and it had cost him his life. But Harry was determio restore Oscorp's dominance, settle old scores, and secure his legacy, whatever it took.

  — Rogue Rept —

  Date: Saturday, April 9, 2011.

  Location: Graral Station, Manhattan, New York

  Tyson stood in Graral Station, anticipation rolling off him in waves as his eyes sed the arrivals board. It had been months since he'd seen his friends, and his heart thrummed a nervous beat in his chest. Then, like a break in the clouds, Jubilee burst through the terminal doors. Her short bck hair bobbed around her face, which was lit up with the kind of smile that could outshihe sun. Her yellow jacket, iid ever-present, trasted vibrantly against her pink top and jeans, the ensemble plete with pink shades perched atop her head.

  "Tyson!" she squealed, skipping the st few feet between them and ung herself into his arms.

  He caught her easily, ughing as he spun her around, the noise and bustle of the station narrowing down to this single brilliant slice of happiness. "Jubes! I've missed you like crazy!"

  She pulled back, her dark eyes sparkling with mischief. "Yea! I bet you missed hanging with the coolest mutant around!"

  "Every single day," he grinned, setting her down but keeping an arm slung around her shoulders in an affeate half-hug.

  It was then that Jean Grey approached the reunited friends. She was dressed more casually than Jubilee, in a simple greeer and jeans. "Hey, Tyson," Jeaed him warmly, a smile that, while more trolled than Jubilee's exuberance, held a world of siy.

  "Hey, Jean." Tyson's grin widened as he pulled the redhead into a one-armed hug, mindful of the tact. "It's really good to see you."

  "You too," Jean replied, stepping back but letting her hand linger on his arm for a moment. The urio stood together, different as they were, Jean, Jubilee, and Tyson fit together like puzzle pieces.

  Jubilee's eyes widened fraally, her mouth parting in surprise as she focused on a newer who'd been waiting nearby. Felicia Hardy stepped up o Tyson, abaster hair casg behind in silken waves. She was dressed in a figure-hugging bck dress that g to dangerous curves.

  "Guys, this is Felicia," Tyson said by way of introdu.

  Felicia smiled, "I just wanted a peek at the famous friends Tysoalking about," she purred, her voice resonating strangely in the busy train station. "But this is more than I expected."

  With feline grace, Felicia prowled around Jean and Jubilee, appraising them in a way that felt both evaluative and appreciative. She pleted her circuit aled into an effortless pose, hand on hip.

  "Tyson sure knows how to surround himself with beautiful women," Felicia remarked, gaze dang betweehree of them. Stepping in, she gave Jean a brief, too-close hug before moving on to Jubilee. Jubilee's cheeks fmed bright red and she stammered something unintelligible, her usual spark momentarily dimmed by Felicia's brazen appraisal. Felicia stepped back, the mischief dang more brightly in her eyes. "I wish I could stay and chat," she said, a hint of genui fv her tone. "But the show demands my attention. A lot of work, you know."

  With a wave, Felicia turned, her departure as notable as her arrival had been. They watched her go with a mesmerizing sway to her hips that ahe room until she was out of sight.

  "She... she runs all the show stuff," Tyson expined, his voice a tad hoarse as he tried to gather his scattered thoughts. "I just put it on."

  "That's yirlfriend?" Jean asked, an eyebrow arg gracefully in inquiry.

  "Nah, we're just friends," Tyson rushed to crify, but the flush of heat in his cheeks told quite aory.

  Jubilee, finally regaining her posure, coughed spicuously. "Bullshit," in mock disbelief.

  Their ughter still echoed in the bck taxi as it wove through the bustling New York traffic. The t buildings of the cityscape slid by in a vibrant blur past the smudged windows. Jubilee bounced excitedly on the cracked vinyl seat, her iious energy radiating outward. She turo Tyson, eyes bright with anticipation.

  "So, where to?" she asked eagerly. "We've got hours before the show tonight."

  Tyson's voice rang with assurance as he replied, "We're going to hit the stores first." He smiled, tinuing, "You guys need some dazzling outfits for the premiere tonight. It's a pretty formal affair, being opening night and all."

  At the mention of shopping, Jubilee's excitement ramped up another notch, an almost visible vibration thrumming through her small frame. bined with Jean's slight, appreciative smile, both reas brought a flush of satisfa to Tyson's cheeks.

  "And after the shopping?" Jean asked.

  "We'll head bay hotel. They've got an excelleaurant there for lunch," Tyson expined casually, though inwardly he hoped his friends would share his buildiement for the gmorous evening ahead. "Then we get ready for the show in my room."

  Jubilee's eyes glinted with mischief. "I 't wait to go back to your room," she quipped pyfully before pink flushed across her cheeks as she realized the unintended implication of her words. She hurried to crify, "I mean, I 't wait to see how he room is!"

  Their ughter once again filled the cab. The taxi tinued weaving through the chaotic traffic, the bring horns and urban cmor a distant backdrop to their lively reunion. All along the sidewalks, people streamed by in a stant flow of motion. The cab pulled up to the curb in Soho, its passengers spilling out onto the sidewalk uhe clear spring sky. Jean and Jubilee stepped out and paused to take in the eic buzz of the chieighborhood. People milled about them as the test fashions beed from stylish shop windows. The three friends strolled down the busy streets, eyes drawn to the myriad of upscale styles on dispy. Their leisurely walk eventually led them to the Prada store on 5th Avenue.

  Jubilee's eyes lit up at its modern design and elegahetic. "This is it!" she decred, excitement clear in her voice as they stepped into the high-end boutique.

  Inside, everything exuded sophistication, from the lines of the furniture to the refitire along the racks. Jubilee and Jean dove into the rows of clothing. Their enthusiasm was evident as they flipped through the options, soft sounds of rustling fabric filling the air.

  "How about this one?" Jean held up a shimmering dress, its subtle sheen catg the light.

  "Try it on! Try it on!" Jubilee ted encingly, already clutg several choices of her own. They headed for the fitting rooms, eager to begin their fashioravaganza.

  What followed was a whirlwind of style and opinions. Dresses were donned and discarded as critiques and ughter were exged. The clicks of shoes beied echoed oting room floor. Bags of various colors and designs were examined aed.

  Finally, with their deade, the two friends stood with, plete outfits in hand; chic dresses, matg bags, and shoes ready for a night out.

  Jean and Jubilee approached the register with arms den with purchases. Jubilee's face fell when she saw the total cost. "Tyson, this is too much," she protested, worry creasing her brow.

  Tyson gave her a reassuring smile, waving off her with a flick of his hand. "Don't worry about it. It's my treat. You guys will look stunning tonight," he insisted in a tohat brooked nument.

  Jubilee's eyes softened as gratitude repced her . "Thank you, Tyson," she said, her voice sincere. Jean echoed Jubilee's se with a warm smile of her own.

  — Rogue Rept —

  Savory aromas of seared meats and heady spices wafted around Jean, Jubilee, and Tyson having lunch at the Four Seasoaurant. Jean had ordered a steaming pte of pasta carbonara, the rich sauce coating the noodles making her mouth water. Jubilee's colorful, zesty sad sat before her, a medley of textures and fvors. Tyson's medium-rare steak occupied his pte, the juices pooliigly atop the expertly seared meat.

  Tyson flicked his wrist ever so subtly as they began to eat, a faint shimmer in the air was the only outward sign of the illusion now cloaking their table, masking their versation from any curious ears in the restaurant. Though unnecessary, Tyson thought that the gestures and visual distortion would help his panions grasp when his power was in effect. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself to uhe tale of the past months.

  "I don't remember how much I told you before," Tyson began, ready to catch his friends up on all they had missed. He started with his and Illyana's journey back to New York, "After you left Alkali Lake, we popped into Limbo, between teleports while trying to find the city. We were surprised to discover Azazel's return upon our arrival, and the army of demons he'd coordinated in Limbo." Tyson reted, "We searched the city for help aually stumbled upon a group of sorcerers based there. During our meeting with them, the Sorceress Supreme, their leader, cast a spell ohat let Illyana and I touch. But the spell didn't block my power from abs hers. It gave me hours of access to Illyana’s power."

  "It portunity we couldn’t pass up. When else would we have two of us nearly able to keep up with Azazel's teleportation? So, we assaulted Azazel’s stronghold," Tyson said, his voice low but intense. "You know about how Jubilee snuck out of the institute and insisted I borrowed her ability. With your power, Jubilee, and the help of Logan and Colossus, Illyana mao end Azazel. Afterward, she decided to stay with the sorcerers."

  Tyson tinued, detailing his return to normal school life iy, only to get pulled into an ued friendship with Spider-Man, battling foes like the Green Goblin and the Lizard. Jubilee, her fork paused mid-air as she listened, interjected with a grin, "Did you just say you got entangled with Spider-Man... Was that a spider joke?"

  A chuckle rumbled in Tyson's chest. "Yup. Anyway, we became friends, and, well, the media dubbed me Mirage," he cluded, taking a sip of water from his gss.

  But Jubilee wasn’t having it. “You left out so much!" she excimed, her fork waving acgly. "Like, you’ve been training to be a ninja, and ion of Felicia, or the hot teacher, Miss Rushman. What about going up against that crime lord? And where did all this money e from?” She gestured around at their opulent surroundings to emphasize her point.

  Tyson ughed again, the sound rich with amusement. "I'm Mirage," he said with a pyful wink. "I have to keep some mysteries, right?"

  Jubilee rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling. "Not from us, you don’t!"

  Jean, who had been quietly abs Tyson's story up until now, finally spoke up. "It sounds like you've been through a lot," she said gently, her voice warm and supportive as she offered him a soft smile.

  "Yeah," Tyson agreed, his smile fading slightly as memories surfaced. "But having you guys here makes it better. Really."

  The remnants of their earlier meal were scattered across the table's surface. Jean's green eyes reflected a storm of emotions as she asked, "There's one mystery I was hoping you'd expin. Why did you leave the institute? Why did you choose to finish school here iy instead of with us?"

  "That's a fair question," Tyson ceded as he leaned ba his chair, gathering his thoughts. He took a deep breath before delving into the story of Stryker's assault on the institute, filling iails the girls had not been privy to.

  "You were there when Stryker's men stormed the institute. Jean, your power was one of the reasons I was able to hold off the invaders." Tyson's face was grim as he tinued. "Stryker's teams weren't just there to capture mutants. They kly where to go and what to take. They ransacked the lower levels, stealing equipment and data from Cerebro. The parts were ter used to struct a twisted version of the mae at Alkali Lake."

  He shook his head, disgust evident in his voice. "With the help of a powerful illusionist mutant, Stryker forced Professor X to use this Cerebro to psychically locate every mutant on the phey inteo abuse the Professor's powers, turning his gift into a on… to exterminate all mutants." Tyso out a heavy sigh, the memories still b him somewhat.

  "When Mago and Mystique interfered, things got even messier," Tyson tinued. "They tried to reverse Stryker's pn, aiming io eradicate all humans." He paused, his hands g at the memory. "Illyana saved me from Mago after he'd captured me while I was still uryker's mind trol. She brought me to Limbo until I finally regained trol of myself. We returned just in time to reach the Professor. I uionally killed the mutant who was trolling Xavier and absorbed his abilities in the process." Tyson expined, "That's where my illusion power came from. But then, while he was still vulnerable, I forced Xavier to erase the world's memories of mutants and everythied to us."

  Tyson took a deep breath before cluding. "I left the institute because I exploited Professor X, maniputing him to enact the worldwide mind-wipe. I 't say I regret it. At the time, I thought it was the best solution avaible."

  Tyson's revetion hung in the air like a lead weight. Jean and Jubilee exged ghe gravity of his words sinking in. Jean finally broke the silehat expins so much," she said softly. Jubilee nodded, her usual bubbly energy dimmed. "The news, the public...it's like all the mutant hate just went underground ht."

  "And Mago's been suspiciously quiet too," Jean added, her brow furrowing in thought. She hesitated before asking, "Have you spoken to the Professor since?"

  Tyson shook his head. "No. I've been waiting to see how things unfolded." A somber siletled over the trio, the pressure of shared histories as pressing down oyson gave a rueful chuckle, shattering the quiet. "Well, that got heavy. What do you say we lighten things up? Let's head upstairs and chey suite."

  Tyson, Jean, and Jubilee stepped out of the elevator into the hallway, leaving behind their finished lunches and the weight of their versation. The elevator doors slid shut with a soft ding as the trio made their way down the corridor to the door of Tyson's suite.

  As they ehe spacious rooms, the first thing that caught their eyes was the striking figure of a woman standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows. She was silhouetted against the panoramic view of the cityscape. At their entrance, she turned, regarding the new arrivals with a wary, measured gaze. After a moment, her wariness faded, repced by a slight smile. Her intelligent eyes took in every detail, weighing and assessing the trio in a gnce. Her hair was a deep auburn, falling in soft waves just below her shoulders, framing sharp, defined facial features that hi a dangerous edge beh her beauty. She was dressed simply in a bck blouse and dark jeans.

  "Nat!" Tyson excimed in surprise.

  "Natalie Rushman," the woman introduced herself in a low, husky voice, extending a hand with nails painted a fierce red to the girls iing.

  Jubilee's eyes went wide with reition, her mouth dropping open. "You're the hot teacher!" she blurted out before she could stop herself. "No way!"

  Tyso out a soft groan of mild embarrassment, but Natalie just smiled wider, a glint of humor reag her eyes. "I'll take that as a pliment," she said smoothly.

  "What are you doing here?" he asked. Though Tyson's tone held warmth, there was an edge of accusation in it as well.

  "I wouldn't miss opening night," Natalie replied smoothly.

  "She knows?" Jubilee asked Tyson, surprise in her voice.

  "Yeah, she knows," he firmed with a nod.

  The versation shifted to the evening's pns and the premiere they were all eagerly anticipating. Tyson's eyes narrowed pyfully at Natalie. "You still have that dress from st time?"

  She gave him a look of modignation, arg one eyebrow. "A woman 't be caught dead wearing the same dress twice," she chided, though her tone held gentle humor. Her gaze swept over Jean and Jubilee, drawing them into the spiracy of her smile. "But don't worry. I have something to wear."

  The versation lulled, and Jubilee turned her attention to Tyson, curiosity sparking in her eyes. "Since you're putting on this big show, you must have gottey good with your illusions."

  Nat's smile turned sly at her question. "Hey Jubilee, do you like Naruto?"

  Jubilee's face lit up with enthusiasm. "Yeah, of course. Why?"

  Nat made a casual gesture toward Tyson. Jubilee followed the motion, log eyes with Tyson. What she saw made her gasp in surprise.

  His mismatched irises shifted, repced by the hypnotic pattern of a three-tomoe Sharingan. The bas began to spin around his pupils with a smooth, mesmerizing motion.

  And then the world shifted around Jubilee.

  Jubilee found herself standing within the Vilge Hidden in the Leaves. The sky above was a brilliant azure, dotted with zy clouds that drifted across its fwless expanse. Fresh, air mingled with mouthwatering sts wafting from nearby food stalls where savory meats sizzled over open grills, sweet cakes, and spicy rameed passersby.

  All arouhe vilge bustled with life and energy. Ninjas of all ages leaped between buildings in incredible dispys of agility athered in lively groups near shops and stands. The structures themselves were a mosaic of traditional Japanese architecture, with sloping tiled roofs and intricate woodwork. Training yards were a further distance away, filled with targets and battered practice dummies.

  Jubilee's gaze was drawn to the stern and imposing, yet majestic, mountain deeper in the vilge. The moal visage of past vilge leaders was carved into its cliff face, Hokage Rock.

  But it was the sudden flurry of crows that caught Jubilee's full attention, a chaotic, g cloud that swirled around a figure in an Akatsuki robe.

  Itachi, no, Tyson.

  The crows dispersed as quickly as they had gathered, and he was suddenly behind her, but not threateningly so.

  Unlike when he'd pulled the same trick with Nat, there was no on in his hand. Instead, Tyson's arm ed securely around Jubilee's waist, pulling her slightly back against him, while his other arm gently encircled her chest just below her neck. It wasn't a choke, but a firm, solid hold, making her pletely aware of his presence.

  Tyson's breath was warm against Jubilee's ear, his voice a low rumble as he asked, "Is this good?"

  Jubilee shuddered. She could feel the soft yet substantial fabric of his Akatsuki cloak against her bad the solid strength of his form behihe illusion was so plete, so detailed, she could evehe slight breeze of the vilge, hear the distant calls of vendors and chirping of birds, and sehe vibrancy of life all around her. It was a heady mix of sensation, ohat left her momentarily breathless.

  It was real. All of it felt so unbelievably real. Then the illusion shattered like gss, the crows dispersing into nothingness, and the vibrant vilge evaporated. They were ba Tyson's mundane room, the stark trast to the vivid world Jubilee had just experienced jarring.

  "Jesus, that's intense. But so damn cool," Jubilee excimed, her heart still rag from the thrill of the illusion.

  Nat's lips curved into a knowing smile, her eyes sparkling with a shared sense of excitement.

  Jean, however, had a furrow between her brows. "That was strange," she admitted, looking someerplexed. "It was like watg a transparent movie."

  Tyson nodded in uanding. "You're too psionically gifted, Jean," he aowledged with a hint of respect. "My illusions just aren't strong enough to affect you in the same way. But," he added, a mischievous glint sparkling in his eyes, "I have my ways."

  Jean tilted her head. "Show me," she challenged.

  "If you're willing," Tyson replied with a casual shrug.

  Jean's nod was resolute. Tyson instructed, "Look into my eyes, rex, don’t resist," and she did so, finding herself drawn into the swirlihs of green and blue, an o and forest entwined. "Let me in, invite me in."

  And Jean did. She opened her mind up to Tyson pletely. Suddenly, silenveloped her.

  It was as if someone had hit the mute button on the world. The stant, whispering buzz of thoughts, the background noise of her telepathy, all of it was just...gone. Jean gasped, her emerald eyes wide with astonishment.

  Her jaw hung open in shock as the silenveloped her mind. For years she had longed for respite from the stant whispering buzz of telepathioise but had lost hope of ever finding true silenow, with a simple illusion cast by Tyson, the background chatter in her mind had been muted entirely.

  "How?" she finally mao breathe out, her voice barely a whisper.

  "My illusions alter more than just sight and sound," Tyson expined casually. "Once you opened yourself to my power, it was a simple matter to create the illusion of silen your mind."

  He went on, "Since my abilities are telepathi nature, I easily mute psionioise as well."

  Jean's emerald eyes were wide with a mix of astonishment and longing. The silen her mind was utter and plete. "How long will it st?" she asked hesitantly, almost afraid to hear the answer.

  "As long as you stay close by," he assured her. "It takes hardly any effort on my part to maintain the illusion." He gave a small shrug. "But it will fade if I'm too far away."

  Jean chewed her lower lip anxiously as a thousand thoughts raced through her mind. The idea of this silehis plete telepathic quiet, was something she had scarcely dared to hope for after so many years of stant noise. And here was Tyson, it to her so easily. But he was here, iy, while she was still back at the institute. The silence would be lost the moment she left his side.

  The moment lingered as Natalie's practical voice sliced through the charged air. "That's probably enough fooling around," she decred, her gaze sweeping over Jean and Tyson. Her authority was clear i of her shoulders and the tilt of her . "We've got three women and Tyson here. We o start getting ready."

  As Natalie, Jean, and Jubilee began to move, iating the logistics of sharing the sihroom, but Jean found her eyes straying again and again to Tyson. Now that the stant cmor of other people's thoughts had faded away, leaving only silence, Jean's mind seemed louder than ever. Questions, specution, and half-formed daydreams chased each other in circles. She wohe extent of his psionic abilities, and if he was even now listening to the sudden riot in her head. The thought of being oher end of the equation, with someone else knowing all of her thoughts made Jean's cheeks flush a her looking at the floor. But there would be time enough ter to explore this newfound quiet, what it meant for her, and how she felt about Tyson. For now, she had to focus oing ready. Jean took a deep breath and followed the other women from the room, the silence ing fly around her.

  The bck limousine glided to a stop in front of the imposing Ftiron Armory. The building's wartime architecture loomed rge, but all eyes were drawn to the gleaming new 'M' that had been installed over the entrance.

  Tyson stepped out first, cutting a sharp figure in his uated tuxedo. His attire was rather pin in parison to his panions, ensuring the stunning dresses they wore would capture all the attention they so richly deserved.

  Jubilee was a radiant vision in a shimmering gold dress that mirrored her vibrant personality. The fabric g entigly to her curves before fring out to mid-thigh. Her lustrous bck hair ulled up into a high ponytail, with pyful strands left loose to frame her lovely face. Her makeup was bold and striking, with a touch of sparkling eyeshadow that made her eyes phtly.

  Jean's elegance was timeless and refined in a floor-length emerald gown that perfectly plemented her fiery red hair, styled in soft waves for the occasion. The dress's nee was modest, but a daring cut-out back added a of surprise. Her makeup was uated, serving only to highlight her natural beauty, and her green eyes shoh excitement for the night ahead.

  Ever the embodiment of sophistication, Nat wore a fitted bck dress that fell gracefully to just below her knees. Its simplicity was its statement, perfectly plemented by her hair's effortless waves and minimalist makeup, save for a bold red lipstick that added a spsh of vibrant color and pyed beautifully off her red locks.

  Together, the striking trio, escorted by Tyson, made arahat was sure to be remembered, each stunning and unique in their own way.

  The Armory was abuzz with exhiration, the glimmering lights casting a shine over the venue and its patrons. Tyson escorted them to the exclusive VIP se, the area lush and private pared to the excitement of the main floor. After guiding the dies to their seats, Tyson turned and took his leave, needing to prepare for the impending performahe trio noted with a mixture of amusement and curiosity that their seats were outfitted with cross straps akin to those found in a racecar.

  "Just in case," came Tyson's voiexpectedly from behind them, his sudden presence surprising the dies given that he had walked away mere moments ago after seating them. "The straps are to keep spectators from leaving their seats prematurely, in case you bee too engrossed in the show," he tinued with a hint of mischief in his smile.

  Jubilee couldn't restrain an excmation of surprise. "Didn't you just leave us?"

  Tyson's grin grew wider, a glint of pyfulness in his eyes. "Things here are rarely as simple as they appear. Wele to the House of M!"

  Tyson's illusion dispersed into a flock of butterflies that swirled through the air. Oterfly from the fading swarm fluttered down to nd briefly on eaan's hand, its wings shimmering in a color that matched her dress. The butterflies' wings pulsed on unison before taking flight again, dispersing into the shadows above the stage.

  Jubilee watched the butterfly that had nded on her hand until it disappeared, a look of wonder on her face. Jean ran a finger over the back of her hand where the green butterfly had been as if trying to capture the lingering traces of its touat simply smiled, unsurprised by the dispy.

  The three womeled into their seats, eyes bright with anticipation for whatever spectacle Tyson had in store. Around them, the rest of the audience quieted as the lights dimmed, ready for the show to begin.

  — Rogue Rept —

  Alexander Mashall, New York Times

  HOUSE OF M: SPIDERMAN - A THEATRICAL FLUENCE OF REALITY AND ILLUSION

  In a city that's ner to the extraordinary, Mirage, one of New York's own superheroes, offers an unparalleled spectacle with "House of M: Spiderman." This illusionary theatrical show is not just a retelling but a re-living of Spiderman’s ins that captures the heart, soul, and resilience of our beloved hero.

  Entering the Armory is a dive into a realm where the lines betweey and fi blur. The 'M' insignia loe, both a warning and an invitation: prepare to questiohing you know about performa. Mirage employs his superhuman abilities to craft not just illusions, but a world you step into, a narrative you touch, aions you feel tangibly. This isn't virtual reality; it's Mirage's reality.

  The story begins with the poignant portrayal of Spiderman’s transformation. The show ands your empathy from the start, with the pain of loss. As Spiderman’s body and life ge, so too does the world around him, ing in sync with his tumultuous journey. Audience members feel the rush of swinging through the high rises of New York, thanks to the stunning illusionary prowess that defihe show. You're not just witnessing Spiderman's in; you're part of it.

  What sets "House of M: Spiderman" apart is its emotional core. It's a roller coaster that plummets into the character's psyche. You feel the weight of his grandfather’s death, the burden of responsibility, and the internal flict that fuels his double life. The performance doesn't shy away from these emotional depths; it embraces them, and enhahem, making the experiehartic for an audienveloped in the spectacle.

  Moreover, the a sequences are nothing short of breathtaking. In o-stopping se, Spiderman's shoith the Green Goblin pys out in an intricate ballet of bat and illusion. The audience is transported back to the chaos of the Unity Day Parade, dodging debris and feeling the heat of explosions. It's immersive to the point of heart-pounding exhiration, creating an adrenaline surge that's as real as the danger is illusory.

  This is a Spiderman of New York, for New York, molded by its tragedies and triumphs.

  As the illusions fade and the Armory reasserts itself around the audiehere’s a lingeriion of having shared in something profound. "House of M: Spiderman" is more than a show; it's a unal experiehat celebrates the hero in all of us. This produ is a love letter to Spiderman, penned in light, sound, and illusions.

  "House of M: Spiderman" doesn’t just raise the bar for theatrical shows; it soars high above, much like the hero it honors. It's a reminder of the resilierength, and hope that defines New York. For those lucky enough to secure a ticket, prepare for an experiehat will ensnare your senses, captivate your heart, and perhaps, make you believe in heroes all ain.

  For Mirage and his team, the appuse will reverberate long after the curtains close. They’ve achieved something truly extraordinary. In the heart of New York, within the walls of the Ftiron Armory, there exists a house. A house of marvels, of dreams, of heroic tales. A house that belongs to us all. Wele to the House of M.

  — Rogue Rept —

  Jonah Jameson, The Daily BugleSPIDER-MAN'S THEATRICAL MENACE: HOUSE OF M SINGS PRAISES OF NEW YORK'S RESIDENT TROUBLEMAKER

  If you're a det, w-abiding citizen who believes in the genuine justice system, steer clear of the "House of M: Spiderman," the test spectacle corrupting the minds of New Yorkers. This show is the brainchild of Mirage, one of the city's so-called "heroes." But don't let the smoke and mirrors fool you. This produ is nothing more than a btant attempt to glorify the city's most notorious menace, Spider-Man.

  The moment you step through the Armory doors, your senses are assaulted by the vish grandeur Mirage has fabricated. It's clear from the start: every dolr pumped into this extravagant charade is a dolr supp the reckless vigintism that's poisoning our city's streets. The mammoth 'M' embzoned above the entraands as a symbol of the megalomania underpinning this entire event.

  "House of M: Spiderman" doesn't just ret the webhead's ins. Mirage utilizes his superpowers t you into a world of fantasy, blurring the lines between fad fi. Yes, the effect is impressive. Yes, the illusions provide an adrenaline rush akin to the real-life swings through New York's skylihat this spider nuisance is so fond of. But the spectacle serves a sinister purpose. It paints a dangerous viginte as a misuood hero.

  Let's not mince words here. This isn't a tribute; it's propaganda. Mirage creates a version of Spider-Man desigo tug at your heartstrings. The show focuses on loss, responsibility, and the struggle of juggling two worlds, attempting to humanize a character who repeatedly takes the w into his own hands. But a glossy coat of paint doesn't ge the fact that at its core, this is a story about a rogue individual causing as much chaos as the criminals he cims to fight.

  The a sequehough teically mesmerizing, further tribute to this dangerous narrative. In a particurly egregious dispy, the audience is surrounded by mayhem aru during Spider-Man's battle with the Green Goblin that occurred at the Unity Day Parade. While some might call this immersive, I call it irresponsible. It glorifies violenot to mention being potentially traumatizing for anyone who'd bee at the event.

  The produ, however, doesn't stop at glorifying just one viginte. Mirage himself makes several appearances, further pushing the idea that these vigintes are our "heroes."

  Now, let's talk about the fihe show culminates in a spectacle that's all fsh and no substance, much like Spider-Man's antics around New York. As the illusions dissipate ay settles ba, viewers are left with a dangerous notion imprinted on their minds. 'Superheroes' are here to protect them. This show is not just eai; it's an indoation.

  It's troubling to see resources and talent wasted on glorifying a meo society. "House of M: Spidermas a dangerous pret, telling viewers that it's not only acceptable to take the w into your own hands but that doing so makes you a hero. It's a sp in the face to the hardw w enfort officers of this city, who put their lives on the lio protect its citizens.

  In clusion, "House of M: Spiderman" is a sham. It's a well-orchestrated, finely crafted hazard that uses illusion aion to the truth. Spider-Man is not a hero. He's a menace, and this produ is plicit in his antiew Yorkers deserve better. They deserve the truth.

  This is J. Jonah Jameson, reminding you to stay vigint. Stay informed. And most importantly, don't let the vigintes fool you. Not ireets, aainly not oage.

  — Rogue Rept —

  Dr. Miles Warren stood alone in the ter of his secret, unmonitored boratory. The space hummed with advaeology that would make any sthusiast's heart race. Maes beeped and ss fshed with plex formus, but Warren's focus was on the rge drical tank that domihe room. Inside, a humanoid form slowly took shape in the clear, viscous liquid.

  Warren watched the tank ily, his wiry frame draped in a fluttering white b coat, his u hair speaking to many sleepless nights devoted to his obsession. "The potential is limitless," he muttered, more to himself than to his assistant Monica, the eager postgrad who monitored the nearby puter.

  "DNA synthesis is stable, Dr. Warren," Monica reported, not looking up from her s. "Cellur replication is optimal."

  "Excellent, Monica," Warren replied, his gaze never leaving the coalesg figure iank. His brilliant mind raced with possibilities not just for sce but for himself. There was glory in being the creator, the pioneer. And in his eyes, no subject was more perfect than Spider-Man. After all, who wouldn't want to replicate the strength and agility of a hero?

  The ethical drum surrounding human ing, the ws aes, seemed distant thuo Warren as he stood in the calm, focused eye of his work. He dismissed any moral dilemmas with the casual swat one gives a bothersome fly. "They'll uaually," he assured himself. "Ohey see the results, they'll know I was right."

  The hours crept by as Warren and Monica watched the e develop within the amniotik. What began as strands of geic material slowly took shape, morphing into the unmistakable form of a young man. It was as though an invisible sculptor carved the e's features from living marble. Muscles rippled under skin that had yet to see the light of day.

  "It's...it's incredible, Dr. Warren," Monica finally uttered, breaking the hypnotic silence. Awe and apprehension warred within her. She had signed up to earn enough moo cover her graduate degree a some real-world experience. But to withe creation of new life left her stunned.

  Warren's usual dour expression cracked into a rare smile, though his eyes retaiheir fanatical zeal. "We're witnessing history, Monica. Today, sce asds to new heights!"

  As the e neared physical maturity, Warren's thoughts turned from the present triumph to the challenges ahead. If successful, the e should possess Spider-Man's intellect, experiences, and even superhuman abilities. But would he have the inal's heart and spirit? What invisible, intangible force makes a man who he is? Warren tucked away those philosophical riddles for aime.

  The amniotic fluid drained from the chamber, leaving the e suspended like an astronaut in zero gravity. The gss door hissed open at Warren's approach. With trembling hands, he reached for his i creation.

  The e's eyes fluttered open, blinking slowly as if shaking off the heaviness of sleep. His gaze, still unfocused, took in the harsh fluorest lights of the b for the first time. "P-Parker?" he croaked, his voice rough and crag with uainty.

  Dr. Warren's heart leaped as the sound shattered the sterile silence. Success! Life! His creation was awake and aware. But as the e searched for memories that were not his own, Warren knew he must act quickly to steer this new being's mind.

  "No," Warren said sharply, "I'm Dr. Miles Warren. And you're... you're . It means ndmark. Because that's what you are."

  The e's brow furrowed, dist in fusion. "?" he echoed, tasting the unfamiliar he e evaluated the name. Searg its memories. The name was den with biblical significe. was the first son of Adam and Eve, was also the first murderer, having killed his brother Abel out of jealousy and rage.

  "," Warren affirmed, watg the tle over the e's sciousness. "You are the first of your kind, unique and trailbzing in the expanse of human history."

  The newly christened searched for footing in this new identity, even as remnants of memories not his own flickered at the edges of his mind. "Kaine," he insisted. "Kaine Parker." He g to the surname like a lifelio a self he couldn't fully grasp.

  Warreated, then ined his head in acquiesce. "Very well. Kaine Parker," he agreed, though unease needled at him. The persisteroubled Warren, hinting at plications to e. But for now, his creation was alive and alert. Everything else could be managed in time. Warren gazed at Kaine Parker and allowed himself a moment to bask in the magnitude of what he'd achieved.

  Upon Kaine's awakening into sciousness, Dr. Warren reized his creation was marred by imperfes. Though his geic code had beeiculously copied, the final result was fwed. His skin was rough and uneven i should have been smooth, the texture strange under his expl fiips. The deformities did not hamper his movements, however. When Kaine rose from the table, his movements spoke of power and agility belying his physical fws.

  Warren watched his creation's first steps with awe and unease. What had he truly brought into being with his hubris? Apprehension stirred as Warren pted the terrifying potential of this being that now lived and breathed before him.

  Kaine was awash in a deluge of emotions, memories not his own vying for promihough sedhand, the experiences felt real. Love, loss, triumph, and failures. His newly awakened senses were overwhelmed, struggling to process this psychisught. It was too much.

  "I don't uand," Kaine said, desperation and frustration warring in his voice as he turo his creator. "What's happening? Who am I?"

  "You're my creation," Warren replied, a note of possessive pride creeping into his tone even through the uainty. "You're the first. And you're...magnifit." The word held a plex mix of emotions. Not just awe, but also fear of what he had wrought.

  — Rogue Rept —

  Kaine's feelings were a tempest, uable, and often terrifying in their iy. One moment calm, the ed by fiery rage that maed in shattered objects aed equipment. Kaine's chest heaved as he stared at the aftermath of his test violent outburst, the broken gss aed metal that littered the boratory floor evidence of the destru he had wrought.

  "I 't...I 't trol it," he gasped, his voice ragged with desperation.

  Dr. Miles Warren surveyed the se with growing , the initial awe he had felt at creating this powerful being curdling into doubt. Kaine was the e he had crafted, the first of his kind, and though magnifit in his abilities, the doctor was realizing he had not anticipated the votility of the emotions that raged within his creation.

  "We'll work through this," Warren said, trying to make his tone reassuring even as his voice wavered with uainty. "We'll figure this out."

  But as the days passed, Kaine's struggles only seemed to deepen. His outbursts tinued, memories and experiehat were not his own haunting him, taunting him with the life of Peter Parker that he could almost touch but never fully grasp. Soon he began to question his creator, demanding ahat Warren did not have.

  "Why am I here?" Kaine asked, searg Warren's fatently. "Why did you create me?"

  Warrehe weight of those questions like a physical blow. The ethid morals of his as, which had seemed so clear in pursuit of stific breakthrough, were now clouded by doubt in the face of the living, suffering being before him.

  "To advance sce," Warren replied at first, grasping for justification. "To create something new, something revolutionary."

  "But at what cost?" Kaine challenged, his hands g into fists at his sides. "I'm not just some sce project, Dr. Warren. I'm a person, aren't I? Or was I only ever meant to be a copy? A thing?"

  The boratory that had once been a site of triumph for Warren now seemed to close in ohe shadows cast by the blinking sole lights growing darker with every word from Kaine. Warren's mouth felt dry, his fidence repced by a sinki. He had sidered only the stific challehe potential for fame, and the breakthrough in humaics. But in his calcutions, he had failed to at for the soul he was replig.

  "You're not a thing," Warren whispered, but even to his own ears, the words sounded hollow and unving. He had presumed to py at being a creator but had not truly prepared himself for his creation to demand reition of its humanity.

  Kaine's anger alpable, but it was the deep pain in his eyes that truly struck Warren, an ag disappoihat could not be quantified or dismissed.

  "Then why do I feel like one?" Kaine asked, his voice thick with sorrow and loss. "Why do I hurt all the time? Why is every moment torture?"

  Warren had no answer. Regret settled bitter and suffog in his throat. He had meant to create life but instead seemed to have inflicted a curse on his creation.

  The tensioweeor and creation grew with each passing day. Kaihe e crafted by Dr. Warren's hands, became ever more aware, his sense of self sharpened into painful focus. And with that burgeoning awareness came so many questions about purpose, destiny, and the true nature of the soul. Questions Warren realized, with a gut full of dread, that he could not answer.

  When Dr. Warreered the b, he was met with a se of chaos. Toppled researotes, shattered beakers, and his dedicated post-grad assistant, Monica, lying lifeless on the cold floor. Her once vibrant eyes, always brimming with eager curiosity, were now dull and lightless, staring into nothingness.

  "Monica!" Warren cried, her name crag on his lips as he stumbled toward her fallen form. His mind recoiled and rebelled against the terrible stillhat had cimed her. This could not be real. They had been on the cusp of breakthroughs, of finally unraveling the mysteries of life itself. Monica had been more than an assistant, she was a fellow dreamer, and she had bee a believer in the grand possibilities that drove them.

  But the undeniable evidence of violence screamed out at Warren, drowning his futile denials in a torrent of horrific truth. His eyes found Kaine, lurking in the shadows. The e's iurmoil seemed to ma in the dangerous stillness of his posture.

  "You..." Warren started, the accusation dying on his lips as the impossible, damning realization took hold. His groundbreaking creation, his stific masterpiece, had wrought this tragedy. "What have you done?"

  Kaine's eyes met Warren's. "She was afraid of me," he said, his voice a low rumble of fusion and burgeoning fury. "She looked at me like I was a monster, so I..."

  "So you proved her right?" Warren interjected, his fear and anger cshed within him. His life's great work threateo spiral into an unthinkable nightmare.

  Kaine's silence reverberated through the b, heavy with dark implications Warren could no longer avoid. This pce, these experiments, they had cracked open the mysteries of life, only to toy with them recklessly. And now, there rice. , Kaihe e Warren had painstakingly brought to life using carefully selected DNA strands was not the triumph he had envisioned. Instead, the e stood as a stark reminder of the perils of hubris, and the terrible cost of mortals pying god.

  Warren sat alone in the b, apanied only by the lifeless hum of maery and the acg silehat hung heavy all around him. Monica's preseill lingered like a ghost and Kaine… What should he do about the troubled e? He was both victim and aggressor, set on a collision course with a world that could never hope to uand his tortured ins.

  Haunted by the tragedy he had single-handedly engineered, Warreuro his research, hands shaking as he carefully omitted the Y osome from the geic sequence for his attempt. That should reduce the violent tendencies, and hopefully correct the skin issues as well. His a was driven not by inspiration, but by desperation to correct his mistake. As the maes quietly hummed to life, initiating the genesis of another e, Warren's thoughts g to Kaine and his desire to rectify his… mistake.

  Warren's refle in the puter s ale and ghostly, a haunting specter he could not turn away from. He had the face of a stist who had ventured into realms never meant for mankind. And in the heavy silence of the b, one question echoed louder than all the rest.

  What had he unleashed upon the world, in his quest to defy nature at the behest of Harry Osborn?

  AN: Thus marks the pletion of Arc 4. This chapter was mostly set up for Arcs 5 and 6, thus the title. Arc 4 was a vacation for Tyson pared to the earlier ones. He didn’t fay true external challenges, something that is certain to be short-lived…

  Tyson's power poll is still up oreon. You don't have to pay anything to vote there, but Tyson's poll will be ing down when I finish writing Arc 6…

  Also, this chapter has a small gallery avaible at any tier.

  Behind the ses

  - House of M was a ic series where Wanda maniputed reality and removed all the mutants. The name of the show is in homage to Tyson wiping the memory of mutants from everyone.

  - When I outlined Arc 4, it was for 12 chapters. Written, it ended up being twelve but divided up differently because of the Lemon se. Plus one chapter (46), was added after the Arc was pleted. My outlines rarely end up as when written, but the chapters fell together pretty ly for this Arc.