Chapter 38: The Night ShiftDate: Tuesday, October 5, 2010.

  Location: Oscorp, Manhattan, New York

  Tyson's night shift at Oscorp began like clockwork. A stroll through the pristine lobby, followed by exging familiar nods with the middle-aged security guard at the front desk who enjoyed me jokes. The perfunctory fsh of his ID badge was more out of habit than y. The guard kyson well enough to skip the formalities, but rules were rules.

  The security locker room with its rows of lockers fnking wooden benches was remi of the locker room at Midtown High. Except here, a crisp uniform awaited Tyson when he arrived. Oscorp didn't allow the security uniforms off-site. They were undered and pressed on-premises, returning them fresh for the shift. Slipping into the stiff uniform, Tyson readied himself. He took the internship seriously, even if nights sisted mostly of empty hallways with the occasional interruption caused by b techs w te.

  Dressed for work, he headed to the security office. This space, filled with monitors and high-tech surveilnce equipment, beloo his supervisor for the night shift, Aleksei Sytsevich. The stocky Russian with a buzzcut had an authoritarian manner b on abrasiveness. But Tyso his opinions to himself. Most nights the two mahe security office with a handful of uards. The job required regur patrols, a task Sytsevich seemed to think was beh him. He lounged in his chair like a king, dispatg Tyson to the quiet halls with a zy wave.

  "Another round, Tyson," Sytsevich would grunt, eyes glued to his magazines, barely gng at the ss.

  Tyson never mihe patrols. The stillness of Oscorp at night trasted his busy days. It was during these quiet moments, walking the empty halls that Tyson's mind would wao his friends, school, and the loomis that cast shadows on his as.

  Despite the monotony, despite Sytsevich's characteristically gruff indiffereyson knew Oscorp harbored a secret. The internship was ordinary, perhaps, but he knew Oscorp would see a someday and he'd have insider access.

  The security office was as Tyson had left it. Aleksei barely looked up from his magazio aowledge Tyson's return. Tyson was about to settle in to study when Aleksei's gravelly voice shattered the tranquility.

  "Camera's out," Aleksei grunted, stabbing a thick fi a bck s. "Sector 17-A. Go check it out."

  Tyson nodded, immediately heading for the stairwell. He bypassed the sluggish elevators. The stairs were free of cameras, creating a blind spot that allowed Tyson a moment to cut loose. His feet pouhe crete steps, leapiire flights in exhirating bursts of speed. This freedom to unleash his true abilities was a guilty pleasure. In moments, he reached the 17th-floor door.

  Bursting into the stark white hallway, Tyson glimpsed sudden movement and a whisper of sound as a dark figure vanished around a distant er. No b tech w te would move like that, nor wear all bck. Instincts kicked in as Tyson pursued the fleeing figure. The intruder was quick, but Tyson was far faster. The distaween them rapidly closed, the thrill of the chase firing through his veins.

  Ahead, the figure suddenly halted and pivoted to face him. Time seemed to slow, every detail burning into Tyson's memory. The moonlight streaming through a nearby window caressed her form, atuating the sinuous silhouette. Her skintight, bck suit was adorned with fur at the ned wrists. The outfit highlighted more of her shape than it cealed. A dark mask obscured her identity but failed to diminish the allure in her pierg blue eyes. Ptinum blonde hair cascaded around her shoulders, and her lips curved in a knowing, mog smile.

  Tyso her intense gaze. The night itself seemed to hold its breath as they engaged in a silent duel of wills. Her smile widened in a challenge, "My, my, a charming night guard pying the hero?"

  A palpable tension thrummed between them. Despite her rexed, almost casual stayson sehe coiled energy within her. Shaking off his moment of being distracted by her appearance, he challenged, "What's your business here?"

  Her low, sultry ugh curled around him. "Perhaps I'm just a Bck Cat who's wandered into the wrong alley. Or maybe I'm after the cream..." Her gaze flicked to Tyson’s waist suggestively. Almost imperceptibly she looked to the 'Restricted' door. But Tysoed the fleeting gh his enhanced eyesight. That door held Oscorp's secrets, secrets he was supposed to protect. He recalled this se housed administrative offices, finance, and acquisitions. Not research or ons.

  The standoff lingered until Tyson rexed his stance. Even without meta knowledge, he reized her. Her delicate st tickled his nostrils; vanil and jasmih a hint of leather and cedarwood. Even if he ignored his superhuman senses, her white-blonde hair gave away her identity.

  "Iing we keep meeting in hallways, isn’t it?" he asked.

  The Bck Cat, Felicia Hardy, stiffened. Her eyes widened fraally, firming his suspi. The taut sileretched for a heartbeat before she recovered, her smile was now tinged with wry amusement. "Took you long enough, night guard," she purred, her firming nor denying Tyson’s question. "But what happens now?"

  Tyson's mind raced. He'd only met Felicia o school. What secrets did she seek?

  Sensing his turmoil, Felicia tilted her head studying him. "Tick tock, hero. Decisions, decisions."

  An impish spark lit Tyson's eyes as he leaned in, "You know, I've always had a thing for cats," he quipped in a spiratorial whisper, "So how this humble night guard help a lost little Bck Cat find her way?"

  Felicia's smirk grew. She pivoted to the door and focused wholly on the lock. Bending over, she brandished a lockpick with practiced finesse. Her back arched deliberately, the skintight outfit atuating her silhouette's curves. Tyson found his eyes drawn and their surroundings fading into irrelevahe lock clicked softly. Felicia's shoulders rolled in quiet triumph, casting a flirtatious gnce over her shoulder.

  She slipped ihe room. Papers rustled, fluttering under her quick, searg hands. Then she released a soft, triumphant "aha!" barely louder than a breath, yet resonant with victloved fingers extracted a folder, and she clutched it to her chest like a prized possession. The top er of the file brushed her as she pivoted towards him. Her expression embodied monoce, "Mind if I borrow these?" she asked. Her voice was like hohreatening to envelop him.

  Tyson outstretched his hand. "That's not how it works," he tered, trying to project authority against her magic pull.

  A pyful pout formed on her lips. "Not even a tiny peek?" she cooed intimately.

  Her tone almost had Tyson capituting, but somehow he held firm. "Nuh-uh," he denied simply, belying his swirliions.

  Felicia pouted in disappoi. Approag with a seductive sway in her hips, she ceded gracefully, pg the folder in his hand. Her gloved fingers grazed his deliberately as she followed Tyson's mandate.

  Tyson moved to the photocopier. The light briefly illuminated his face as he duplicated the dots. With the inals secure, he extended her the copies. Her broad smile betrayed her satisfa, "My hero," she teased, genuine gratitude flickering in her gaze.

  His back was turned mere seds as he repced the folder. But wheurned back around, she had vanished, like a whisper in the night. He could have tracked her unique st but allowed her to slip away.

  Ba the security office, Aleksei looked up, zy i in his heavy-lidded eyes. "What happened?"

  "Camera's busted," Tyson shrugged with casual dismissal. "Needs a tech."

  Aleksei grunted, his attention already ba his magaziyson slumped into his chair. Felicia, the Bck Cat, had vanished, but her presence lingered in Tyson's thoughts.

  — Rogue Rept —

  Wonder filled Peter as he stood in the alley gawking at his hands. The sensation was inexplicable. It was as if Millions of tiny hooks sprung from his fiips, pulling him tight to the wall. He tested tentatively at first, but his fidence bloomed with each successful step up the building's side. Gravity lost meaning as he scaled, exhiration rushing through him.

  Peter's eg ughter raween the skyscrapers as he victoriously crested the rooftop. He did a giddy dance, kig up gravel. "Who needs elevators?" he joked.

  Uo stand still, he mumbled, "Okay, let's try something else." He jutted his hand out, rolling his wrists. Disappointingly, nothing happened. Frowning in tration, he flicked both wrists. Still nothing. "e on," he muttered, his excitement edged with frustration.

  Different words spilled from his mouth as he tested various hand motions, “Go, Webs.”, “Go webs, Go.” but no webs fired. Peter’s miuro the lun. He recalled reag for milk then...

  Peter flexed his fingers, remi of the rod roll gesture. Suddenly, the web shot out, fast and straight, surprising him. "Yes!" he shouted as triumph repced his frustration.

  He practiced until his aim improved, pegging his far target, on the roof a distance away. He tugged the taut line and briefly wondered if he could swing across the street. Shooting a web was ohing, but swinging ohat was something else entirely. Peter hesitated as the practical part of his brain protested his crazy thoughts. But his curiosity urged him on, hungry for more. Releasing the line, he carefully aimed and shot again, the web zipping out to anchor across the street. He tugged it taut. The line seemed strong enough.

  Taking a deep breath, he retreated several steps and then sprinted forward, leaping off the building's edge. Adrenaline punched his gut as the ground dropped away dizzyingly. Gripping the web li held firm. Momentum swung him forward and he whooped with joy, the rushing wind tearing away the sound. This was no mere swing; he was s, weightless and free! But as the arc's peak approached, reality kicked in. How would he nd?

  The building rapidly neared. Panic fring, he let go and desperately flung another webli caught, and he swung again, nding in a clumsy run. "o work on stig the dismount," he panted, knees weak with relief at not sptting. But it was a start, the first of many swings to e. With each, his fidence grew until the city transformed into a pyground pulsing with possibility.

  Hours passed in blissful freedom as Peter practiced swinging, improving with each attempt. He felt unstoppable until the setting sun snapped him back to reality.

  "Oh no, Uncle Ben!" he gasped, guilt crashing in. He was te to paint the kit.

  With a heavy heart, Peter fired a webline banking toward home. The city blurred beh him as he swung, leaving his ughter behind.

  Peter's feet hit the ground running, puffing breaths doing little to ease his tight chest. He slowed nearing home, tidying his appearance from the high-flying adventure. Rounding the er, his heart sank. There was Mary Jane, ughing as she stepped into Fsh's shiny new red car. She didn't even ger's way as he stood longing.

  "Fsh Thompson...," Peter muttered, shoulders hung as he shoved his hands in his pockets. The impressive car screamed for attentioer looked down at his worn sneakers, thinking spitefully, "Would a cool car make me cool too?"

  He pictured Tyson, revving his motorcycle, the look in people's eyes, even Mary Jane's. Maybe that's all he cked. Something loud and fast to prove he was more than a nerd.

  But those thoughts came crashing down as he opehe door to Uncle Ben's disappointed, ed face. Guilt twisted Peter's gut for fetting his promise while he was too busy swinging above the city.

  "Sorry I'm te, Uncle Ben," Peter started, but the older man silenced him with a raised hand.

  "Save it, Peter," Uncle Ben's voice held unusual sternness. "We were supposed to paint the kit together. Your Aunt May ’t help me, we rely on you for work like this."

  Peter's guilt turned defensive, a prickly heat creeping up his neck. "I know, I just...lost track of time."

  "Doing what?" Uncle Ben pressed, standing stiffly. "ns, Peter. You've been different tely. Avoiding us. ing home te. Getting into fights."

  "I'm not different, Uncle Ben," Peter retorted harshly. "I've just got a lot on my mind, okay?" he added hastily, desperation creeping into his tone.

  "Try me, son," Uncle Bely challenged, but Peter adamantly shook his head.

  "It's my life, okay?! You wouldn't get it. You're not my dad!" The words hung in the air between them creating a gap. Peter had crossed a line. He’d spoken words that could not be unsaid.

  Uncle Ben recoiled as if struck, hurt fshing across his features. "You're right," he said after a heavy pause, "I'm not your father. But since he couldn't be here, I've tried my best. I promised him I would raise you as my own." He sighed heavily as if the weight of that promise suddenly felt heavy.

  Misreadier's silence as rebellion, Uncle Ben tinued, "You're not a child anymore. You o be responsible, Peter. Your as have sequences..."

  "I know, I know!" Peter interrupted, temper fring. "I’ve heard it before. With great power es great responsibility."

  Uncle Ben looked taken aback, words failing him. “Peter. Please, talk to me,” he pleaded, reag for his nephew.

  But Peter didn’t lio hear him out. With o regretful, defiant look, he turned and stormed off, the smming door eg his iurmoil.

  Uncle Ben stood frozen, hand outstretched, silent sadness in his eyes. He'd only wao uand, but the chasm between them had widened making it more vast than ever.

  Peter ran down the block. His ragged breaths couldn’t drown out the chaotic mess of guilt, anger, and deep-cutting sadness. The cool night air did little to calm the storm within. He didn't know where he was going. He just o outrun this swell of emotions, if only briefly. And so he disappeared into the growing darkness, aloh his turbulent thoughts.

  — Rogue Rept —

  As the sun dipped below New York's bustling skyline, casting long shadows dowreets, Tyson found himself refleg on an oddly lonely day. His usual crew had vanished. er at lunch, MJ and Harry o be seen, and not even an appearance from Fsh to stir things up. Chemistry css with Gwen had been routine, but dy Mooy seat was now an uling new norm. The school felt emptier, csses quieter, and the day decidedly duller.

  But the highlight was anything but dull. Martial arts css at Chikara Dojo, and it wasn't just the vigorous workout that got his blood pumping, but his partner. Natasha Romanoff, or ‘Natalie Rushman’ as she cimed. She'd started attending a week ago, always tally arriving when Tyson did. Her impressive skills meant Colleen often paired her with Tyson, the only student whose physicality allowed him to match her skill.

  Today's focus was grappling. Natalie had demonstrated an intricate knowledge of the art to Collen, prompting Colleen to allow her to instruct Tyson while she worked with other students. Natalie's instrus were precise, and her demonstrations were fwless. Tyson found himself caught ieags. Each collision made him acutely aware of her. The softness of her skin, the st of her hair, the py of muscles beh her tight exercise outfit. She'd guide his hands to her waist, shoulder, arms, teag holds, and locks. But occasionally, just occasionally, his hand would slip or she'd pce it teasingly close to more personal territory.

  That sly glint would appear in her eyes, pyful, challenging, daring him to speak up. But Tyson, though flushed, kept his focus, respeg the woman and the art she wielded.

  Tyson wore full spandex, including gloves and a turtleneck, under his t-shirt and joggers. He did his best to limit his superhuman attributes to human levels. Not just to maintain his facade, but to ensure he properly learhe teiques.

  Natalie guided Tyson through each grapple with disciplined proficy. As they shifted positions, he struggled to focus oeique and not his hyper-awareness of her.

  In a sudden, fluid motion, Natalie twisted his momentum against him. He thudded to the mat, air whooshing from his lungs as he found himself staring at the ceiling. His vision was filled by Natalie's victorious grin.

  Lying there, Tyson was acutely aware Natalie’s body had followed her throw, leaviop him. The faint st of her shampoo mingled with sweat from her exertion. Her eyes sparkled petitively but now held amusement too.

  Her closeested Tyson's restraint. He sehe minute ges in her breathing ahe warmth of her body. Their positioraddling atop his hips, brought heat to his cheeks and an involuntary response he couldn't hide. He khere was no way Natalie had failed to notice his bulge pressing against her.

  "You're so close," she whispered, her breath warm against his ear. The words carried a challe something more too. "Keep at it, and maybe you'll get it." She set his heart rag but he held her gaze, accepting the double meaning.

  Matg her wit, Tyson replied, “Don’t worry, I’ll keep trying. I don’t give up easily. I’ll get it eventually.”

  Natalie raised an eyebrow in response. She rose, a hand, pulling him up and away from the chaotic thoughts their taspired.

  Outside the Chikara Dojo, versation flowed easily between Natalie and Tyson after their intense sparring session. As they lingered outside, Natalie couldn't help but inquire about Tyson's unusual attire. The outfit included matg gloves, a high-urtleneck sleeveless top, and leggings that disappeared into his shoes, leaving only his head exposed.

  Natalie gestured vaguely at his ensemble. "So, what's the deal with the spandex bodysuit getup?" she asked, one eyebrow raised quizzically.

  Tyson avoided her gaze and tugged self-sciously at the spandex eng his bicep. "It's uh...it's a skin dition," he mumbled unvingly.

  "A skin dition that requires head-to-toe spandex?" Natalie pressed skeptically.

  "Yeah, uh, my doctor reended I wear breathable fabrics to...help with the irritation," Tyson cimed, still not meeting her eyes.

  Natalie's eyes sparkled mischievously. "So no toug then? That’s funny, I seem to recall some exceptions during our session," she teased, her husky tone uedly warming him.

  Before he could respond, his phone's sharp trill cut through the moment. Grateful for the distra, Tysorieved it. Jubilee's name fshed on the s.

  "Who's calling?" Natalie asked casually, though Tysoed a note of i.

  "Just a friend," he replied, too quickly.

  Her lips curled teasingly. "A girlfriend, perhaps?"

  "No, not like that. She's just a friend," Tyson crified, sounding defensive even to himself.

  Natalie just smiled wider, letting it go. With a graceful tilt of her head, she casually bid farewell, leaving Tyson to his call. But as he answered, Tyson's eyes followed Natalie as she sauntered down the block, taking a piece of his posure with her.

  Tyson leaned against the wall outside the Chikara Dojo, phone in hand. "Hey Jubes, what's up?" he greeted, his voice casual, still riding the high from being so close to Natalie.

  Jubilee's voice crackled with an unmistakable excitement, "Tyson, where are yht now?"

  "Uh, atown. Why?" he replied. Her tone pulled his thoughts away from Natasha.

  "Is that he Brooklyn Bridge?" she asked, urgenderpinning her words.

  "Yeah, actually it is. Why?" Tyson frowned.

  "Because there's a dinosaur on the Brooklyn Bridge!" Jubilee blurted out, and the absurdity of the statement gave Tyson pause.

  A dinosaur? Images of the Savage Lands fshed through his mind, but that was so far away, and he hadn't even sidered its existen this world. A beat passed before realization dawned, his mind turning to Peter, Oscorp, Dr. ors, and that formu. Is that happening already?

  His thoughts were shattered by the beeping of his phone indig another call. "Jubes, I'll call you back," he said quickly.

  Switg calls, Tyson started jogging in the dire of the bridge. "Hello?"

  The phone line hummed before an older woman's voice filtered through, ced with . "Is this Tyson?"

  "Speaking," he replied, slowing his pace slightly, an inkling of worry starting to form.

  "Oh, Tyson, this is Peter's Aunt May. I found your number oer's desk. Is he with you?" she inquired, the tremor in her voice barely masked.

  "No, sorry, he isn't," Tyson responded, his worry esg. Aunt May wouldn't go looking through Peter's stuff and call him unless it was important.

  "Oh, that's too bad. Peter and Ben had an argument, aormed out. Be looking for him," Aunt May expined, her words rushed and tinged with ay. "If you see him, you call me, him home?"

  A surge of worry welled within Tyson. "Sure thing, Aunt May. I'll go look for him now," he assured her.

  With the call eyson's worry morphed into a. He khe argument would lead to Uncle Ben's death. They could be anywhere in the vast city, his only clue was the Lizard's bridge appeara couldn't be a ce.

  He sprioward the Brooklyn Bridge, legs pumping, each long stride dev pavement. The cityscape blurred around his sharply focused mind. Uncle Ben was in trouble, and maybe Peter was too. He had to be there for them.

  Rag through crowded streets, Tyson impulsively snatched a mask from a vendor. He quickly stripped his shirt and shorts leaving him in the spandex getup. It ontaneous move to ceal his identity. With no time for doubts, he kept running. Despite the urgency, he smiled slightly at the mask style. An Anbu fox mask from a beloved ahe only difference was this one covered his upper fad had been cut along the mouth-lihis left Tyson’s lower face exposed while hiding his other features.

  Mask iyson's determination solidified. A burst of speed carried him toward the bridge. In the distance, unmistakable sounds of destruet his ears. He prayed he wasn't too te. As the bridge loomed nearer, he steeled himself for what he might find. Uncle Ben was out there, possibly amidst this chaos, needing help. Remembering Aunt May's worry, Tyson pushed himself harder.

  — Rogue Rept —

  Natasha rouhe er of the block housing the Chikara Dojo. Her footsteps were light and casual despite the adrenaline just fading from her veins. Slipping her smartphone from the pocket of her leather jacket, and putting in her earpiece, she hit the speed dial for her partner's he lirilled once before being picked up by the familiar gravelly voice.

  "t, what do you see from that bird's eye view up there?" she asked, her tone low and even, but not devoid of its subtle, pyful uone.

  Perched high on a rooftop across the street with a clear vantage point overlooking the dojo, t's voice crackled in her earpiece, amusement evident even through the slight static. "Kid's got some serious moves, no question there. But he's not the only one bringing the skills today. Looks like you put the moves on him during that sparring session."

  Natasha's lips curled into a sly smirk, the er of her mouth tig up ever so slightly. "Just being thh in my evaluation," she retorted, the easy banter between them as natural as breathing.

  "Uh-huh, sure," t drawled, not buying her feigned nonce for even a split sed. "Gotta say though, pretty impressive restraint and trol for a teenager. Looked like he was trying to learn from you instead of just tossing you around or feeling you up, which he definitely could've done, and you didn’t seem to be discing."

  A moment stretched silently as t tinued surveying the se through his hawk-like gaze. Then suddenly, his voice lost its casual tourning serious and urgent. "Heads up Tasha, the kid's on the move, and I mean really on the move. Heading your way fast, like easily breaking the speed limit fast."

  Natasha's brows furrowed together, "What, already on his motorcycle?" she inquired, fused how he could have retrieved and mounted his bike so quickly.

  "ive, he's on foot," t crified, disbelief at the feat seeping into his tone. "But moving way faster than the cars right now."

  Anticipation flooded Natahsa’s veins. They kyson was extraordinary. First was the Federal Reserve heist, which they still hadn’t determined how he’d pulled. Then there were his feats at the basketball game. The easy set of 405 lb power s ter that day had further ted her suspis, and this impossible speed was yet another firmation that he was enhanced. She was now almost certain they were dealing with a new Super Soldier, which raised ing questions. Who had administered the serum to create him, for urpose, and was he experieng the rumored side effects? A being a super soldier still didn't expin how he mao nab the gold from the Federal Reserve Bank.

  Having driven to Chikara Dojo herself on a sleek bck motorcycle, Natasha now sprioward where she had parked her bike just around the er. Mere seds ter, a blur of motion zipped through the interse ahead of her.

  "Keep eyes on him, do not lose visual," Natasha ordered t sharply as she slipped in her nearly invisible earpieunicator. Donning her helmet, she kickstarted the motorcycle to life, peeling out after her target. Her spy instincts were screaming that this was big, the kind of unusual activity they were traio identify and iigate, the kind that could potentially cost i lives if left unchecked...

  The throaty roar of Natasha's motorcycle engine filled the air as she gu, tires squealing against the pavement as she wove expertly through traffi pursuit of Tyson. Her mind raced through sarios and possibilities, w what unfolding situation could have prompted him to risk exposing himself like this.

  But amidst the uainty, an undeniable thrill surged withihis was what she lived for. The chase, the unknown, and the danger.

  Keeping a block's distanatasha tailed Tyson as he maintained his impossible pace, clog nearly 50 mph on foot alone. His trajectory remained unwavering, heading straight for the Brooklyn Bridge just ahead. Natasha's eyes narrowed in anticipation, w what could be drawing him to the bridge at such speed.

  As they approached, Natasha he bridge was a snarled mess of honking horns and frustrated uters caught in near standstill traffic. Without hesitation, she veered her motorcycle up onto the sidewalk, adeptly weaving through the few startled pedestrians who shouted in surprise and indignation. She didn't slow, her focus ser-sharp on the blur that was her target.

  Her link crackled to life in her ear, t's voice cutting through the rush of wind and urban noise. "We've got another pyer. There’s an unknown Enhanced on the bridge."

  Natasha's grip tightened on the handlebars, a fresh surge of adrenaline kig her heart rate up a notch. "Got aails, or just surprises today?" she shot back tersely, her tactical mind already rag through potential threat assessments.

  "Yonna have to see this oo believe it," was his only cryptic warning.

  Mere seds ter, she glimpsed firsthand what had given t pause. Lumbering onto the bridge was a creature so monstrous, so primal ailian, that Natasha's brain took a moment to fully register what she was witnessing.

  A giant Lizard.

  It moved with terrifying speed and coordination on powerful hind legs, shoving aside vehicles as if they were pstic toys. Screams of panic filled the air as uters abaheir cars and fled in all dires.

  Fishtailing her bike to a stop, Natasha's pulse pounded in her ears. This was bad. She was trained for a lot, but dinosaurs e to life? That fell distinctly outside her typical mission prep.

  Natasha's sharp eyes sed the chaotic se before her, searg for any sign of Tyson amidst the pandemonium erupting on the bridge. She deftly dodged panicked civilians scrambling by while keeping a wary eye on the uable, rampaging movements of the gigantic reptiliaure. She didn't kly what she was dealing with here, but, at this moment, she was the only thing standiween this monster and potential civilian casualties.

  t's voice suddenly crackled urgently in her link, a tension in his tone she reized all too well. "Stand down and hold positio any clht now and your cover is blown."

  Natasha's finely honed instincts screamed at her to move, to do something, anything to intervene. But she rofessional above all else. Maintaining her cover identity mattered. Especially on such a delicate undercover missiorust could be destroyed in an instant.

  "There are civilians everywhere," she shot back tersely, taking ierrified faces around her, eae a human being she was duty-bound to protect.

  "Mask is about to ehe target. Get to a higher vantage point to observe only," t instructed, his tone brooking nument this time.

  “Mask?” Natasha mumbled to herself. With a fluidity born of tless missions, she sprioward the bridge support pilr. An exposed maintenance dder led upwards along the pilr towards the heights of the bridge's uructure. Each rung she climbed gave her a broader view of the anarchy unfolding below until she erched silently high above it all, an eagle-eyed sentinel the madness from her lofty vantage point.

  There, amid the screaming crowd and bring car horns stood Tyson. The muscur teen seemed small and vulnerable pared to the hulkiilian behemoth lumbering before him. Tyson was still the skintight bck spandex from earlier, but now a white mask was strapped over the upper half of his face, cealing his identity. Where had that e from? Natasha filed away that detail for ter. The more pressing question was what exactly the teen po do against this prehistorister.

  It was almost surreal, watg the teenager square off solo against the t creature straight from mankind's primordial nightmares. The Lizard dwarfed Tyson, a leviathan of scales, sinew, and raw animal power that seemed like a ughably unfair matchup at first gnce. But as Natasha observed from above, she yson's stance held no trace of fear or hesitation, only poised fidence. A heightened version of the self-assurance she had witnessed in their earlier spar.

  The very air seemed to thi with tension as the standoff tihe panicked screams around them fading into background noise. All of Natasha's senses zeroed in on the frontation unfolding below. Every muscle was taut, ready to drop into the fray the instant the need arose.

  But t's words still echoed clearly in her mind...observe only.

  For now, her role was to watd wait, trusting that whatever extraordinary abilities Tyson possessed. And hope he had some kind of pn for dealing with a threat seemingly ripped from the pages of sce fi.

  The Lizard luraight for Tyson, powerful jaing wide, cwed hands outstretched to shred the teen to ribbons. At the st possible sed, Tyson moved. Obeat, he was directly ih of certaih, the he had flowed around the creature's lethal strike, like water, to nd a series of blindingly fast blows that made the Lizard reel back with an enraged, fused roar.

  Natasha's breath caught ihroat as she observed the battle unfolding far below her perch. Tyson was holding his own for the moment, but it was a dangerous, precarious dah death that could shift at any sed.

  For all his uny agility and reflexes, Tyson failed to see the Lizard's thick, powerful tail whipping around to sm into his side until it was too te. The impact was thunderous in Natasha's ears even at a distahe teen was sent flying like a limp ragdoll to crash into a parked car with enough force to leave a Tyson-shaped iion ial chassis.

  Natasha's heart stuttered in a rare fsh of panic that she ruthlessly suppressed behind her impassive spy's facade. This was it. She had to intervene now to try to save as many lives as possible. She would mourn Tyson’s death ter, but now she had work to do. Her muscles tensed, ready to propel her from her perto the fray. Yet even as she prepared to drop, Tyson astonishingly pulled himself from the mangled wreckage, shaking his head to clear it like an aovie hero. He grimaced, but then defiantly cracked his ned raised his fists, making a clear "bring it oure to the Lizard.

  The creature roared in frustration, enraged by Tyson's refusal to stay down. The battle resumed, even more intehan before. The Lizard's cws raked forward, shredding through Tyson's clothes and grazing the skih.

  And then before Natasha’s eyes, things somehow mao get even stranger.

  Scaly patches erupted across the visible portions of Tyson's skin. His posture ged, back hung as his body rapidly bulked up. A long tail extended from between his spaurtlened pants, pleting his shog new reptilian form.

  Natasha was ner to the bizarre and unexpined in her line of work, but this? This was something new even for her extensive experience. "Barton, are you seeing this?" she hissed sharply into her piece, uo fully trust her own eyes.

  A brief pause, and then t's stunned voice crackled back. "Yeah, I got eyes on it too. I'll be damned. Looks like our boy just got an express ticket to Jurassic Park down there."

  As the shog transformation was pleted, Tyson refocused his attention on the rampaging Lizard with renewed ferocity. There was a wildo his movements that hadn't bee before, animalistic savagery unleashed by whatever traumatic transformation his body had just undergone.

  Natasha knew she should move, intervene, and take trol of this rapidly esg situatio she found herself rooted in pce, uo look away from the spectacle unfolding below. This was uncharted territory now, a sario that no training could have fully prepared her for. What did this radical transformation mean for Tyson's future? For the mission? Things had suddenly grown far more plicated, the situation spiraling rapidly outside of expected parameters. Natasha's hand hovered over her , weighing whether to call for backup. This was far beyond any standard assig now.

  But theiced a pattern that gave her pause.

  Tyson, even in this monstrous semi-reptilian form, was using hand-to-hand teiques and maneuvers she reized from their training session at the dojo earlier. His movements, though now endowed with a feral savagery, still tained echoes of the martial arts skills he had demonstrated before. It was astonishing to see those traieiques trahrough such a primal, bestial lens.

  Tyson's cws glinted with an unnatural metallic sheen as they sliced through the Lizard's thick hide as though it were mere paper instead of tough scales. The creature released a bone-chilling, pain-filled howl that ricocheted around the bridge, making even Natasha momentarily win sympathy. Driven by animal instinct, the Lizard shed back with a surge of raw power, its muscur legs ung Tyson through the air. But the transformed teen twisted his bulky body in midair with preternatural grace, exeg an acrobatieuver that looked jarringly smooth for such a rge, hulking creature.

  Natasha's breath caught ihroat as Tyson re-ehe Lizard in a blur of motion the instant his cwed feet hit the pavement. The Lizard, ag on pure survival instinow, gave one final desperate leap up onto the bridge railing. Then the creature hurled itself over the edge, falling into the murky river far below.

  Tyson remaianding rigidly at the railing's edge, back heaving and cws ched, staring after the dark waters that had swallowed his foe's retreating form.

  As the haze of adrenaline from the battle began to recede, the full chaos aru left in its wake crashed over Tyson with the force of a frigid wave. The bridge was now a disaster zone. Car arms bred, but above all else, the screams and cries for help from terrified civilians caught in the wreckage syson from his battle-lust.

  With a thought, Tysoivated his illusion ability, the power that had always allowed him to blend into a crowd, unseen and unremarkable. It was crucial now, given his tattered, barely-there clothes, semi-reptilian form, and the mask that had cealed his identity ushed up by his new lizard snout.

  Natasha tensed, ready to drop down into the se, but t's urgent and in her earpiece made her pause. "Stand down. Maintain cover. Something's off here. The kid looks normal to the naked eye, but imaging still shows his full transformation."

  Natasha's gaze snapped back to Tyson, sharply analyzing his every movement as he surveyed the chaotic se around him. His foded on a nearby crisis. There was a car teetering precariously half off the bridge's edge. A child's panicked wails were audible from within the vehicle.

  Tyson sprinted into a. To Natasha's eyes, he appeared as the young man she'd been training at the dojo earlier. But the visual feed from t told a very different story. It was the hulking, reptilia Tyson had transformed into now lifting the car as if it were a mere toy in his massive cwed hands.

  Gripping the car's undercarriage with ease, the creature Natasha saw as Tyson, hoisted the vehicle up and bato solid ground. Ihe child's cries shifted to choking sobs of overwhelming relief. Nearby witnesses, frozen in horror just moments before, now rushed to the car to pull the rescued child from the wreckage to safety.

  As the illusion of his human self, Tyson stepped bace the child was safe, g the se to the polid paramedics rushing in. Natasha yearo approach him, to offer some form of reassurance uidance. But she held back, remaining an observer high above it all.

  "He's back to his normal self again on cameras,” t’s fused voice crackled in her earpiece. “How the hell did he do that switch? What's going on here?"

  "I'm irely sure yet,” Natasha admitted, her peing gaze never leaving Tyson down below. Theilted his head up as if sniffing the air, before turning, and for a split sed that seemed to stret far longer, his eyes locked directly onto hers. The chaos around them faded away, leaving just the two of them suspended in a bubble of unspoken e. His eyes mirrored so maions she had experienced all too often in her shadowy past. She loo vey that he wasn't alone in this, that she uood.

  But the fleeting moment broke as Tyson’s gaze slid away, moving past her position as if she were just another fixture of the ndscape. He spun around and dashed toward the Manhattan side of the wrecked bridge, weaving smoothly through the maze of totaled cars and dazed civilians.

  “Did he make you?” t demanded sharply in her ear, skepticism clear in his tone.

  “No. I don’t believe so,” Natasha responded on instinct. But even as she said it, she k was a lie, one she found herself telling as much for her own sake as for t’s. Because in that gnce, she’d glimpsed definite reition ieen’s eyes.

  He had seen her. And perhaps more importantly, she had seen him. She saw the alone young man hiddeh the extraordinary exterior.

  "He's heading off the bridge. Should I tail him?" Natasha asked, already climbing down toward the motorcycle.

  "ive," t replied after a pause. "We'll regroup and debrief with the team first. There’s a lot to unpack here.” Procedure dictated the steps, but it did little to ease the wnawing at her gut as she watched Tyson disappear aloo the city.

  Sirens began wailing in the distance signaling the ining swarm of emergency responders. Emergency vehicles flooded the se, their red and blue lights cast flickering shadows across the ground. Natasha remained fixed on the route Tyson had fled down, his retreating image imprinted sharply in her mind. She couldn't seem to shake the sense of kinship she felt with the teenage boy. His situation called to her shadowy past. She reized the profound isotion of having no oo turn to. She had been there once, lost and adrift in a world that seemed far too vast and cruel, seen only as a on to be used or a threat to be ralized. Natasha had been known solely for the trail of bodies left silently in her wake. It was that bleak darkhat had first drawn SHIELD's attention, leading t to find her with an offer of not an end, but a potential new beginning. A ce at redemption, at purpose. She owed t nothihan her life and humanity for that pivotal sed ce. And in Tyson, she glimpsed someoentially in desperate need of the same lifeline she had oten. Natasha took one final lingering look dowh where Tyson had disappeared. At that moment, a silent promise took form within her. She would uidance as someone who had walked a simir road.

  "Nat, you need pickup at the se?" t's voice crackled through her earpiece, a grounding presence as always.

  "ive, I'll take the bike back," she respohe wind whipped wildly through her hair as she navigated the streets, the city fading into background noise pared to the storm ing withihoughts.

  — Rogue Rept —

  Peter Parker's feet pouhe pavement as he raced through Queens, buildings and people blurring past. Driven by frustration, he wasn't sure where he was going until his sprint slowed, leaving him in a small, quiet park. Colpsing onto ay bench, his ing mind gradually calmed. The world came bato focus aiced a crumpled neer beside him. Smoothing it out, a bold ad immediately caught his eye.

  WRESTLIRAVAGANZA! Win 3000 for surviving 3 minutes in the ring!

  Thoughts of Fsh's fshy car and Tyson's motorcycle rolled through Peter's mind. 3000 could put him on the road to getting a det set of wheels.

  Without ahought, Peter sprang up, mind whirring with possibilities. He dashed into a thrift store, eyes sing until nding on a pin red long-sleeved shirt, gloves, and a bacva. , a craft store provided a of spray paint, and an idea formed as he went.

  In a private alley, Peter's hands worked feverishly. He id the shirt ft, using the spray paint with surprising skill. It began to transform, taking on a new identity as he hoped to. A makeshift spider symbol emerged on the fabric, the gloves and bacva following suit.

  Donning his crafted persona, Peter felt a thrilling surge. He wasn't just Peter Parker anymore. Stepping into that ring, he would be someone new. Someone capable of amazis no one else could achieve.

  With a poundi, Peter made his way to the raucous wrestling arena. The deafening crowd noise fueled his anticipation. H, jeering spectators created a cacophony of excitement that echoed through the makeshift arena. The announcer's rger-than-life voied through loudspeakers, brimming with enthusiasm.

  "Ladies as! In this er, a newer, a nobody, a...kid in a red getup! Let's wele…” The announcer whispered, “What's your name, kid?"

  "It's 'The Human Spider,'" Peter said. It sounded sillier aloud than in his head.

  "The Human Spider?!" The announcer scoffed. "Too wordy, to! You need something catchy, and memorable!” He returo the mic, “Ladies as, I give you...The Spider-Man!"

  The crowd rea was mixed but it didn't matter. Peter was angry that the announcer improvised his name, but had to admit, ‘Spider-Man' had a gravitas to it.

  "And iher er," the announcer's tone darkened, "a man you know, a man you fear… he's stone cold, he instills the fear of death in his oppos, the indomitable, the terrifying...Tombstone!"

  The crowd erupted, some cheered, and asped in fear as a t ash-skinned figure with maliciously gleaming eyes stepped forth. White ft-top hair pleted the ominous presence.

  The cage ded shut aer's heart lurched. What was he doing?! Peter excimed, “There must be a mistake. I didn’t sign up for a cage match!” But there was no bag out now.

  At the bell, Tombstone advanced. Driven by survival, Peter moved unlike ever before. He dodged powerful swings that could crack crete, somersaulted under crushing grabs, and leaped with newfound grace. Initially dismissive, the crowd came alive.

  "Look at Spider-Man go!" the announcer roared, surprised.

  But Tombstone was relentless, bag Peter into a er. Trapped, Peter saw the puning but froze as fear gripped him. At the st sed, reflexes born of his new abilities took over awisted away with preternatural speed, the grazing fist still feeling like a Mack truck smming into his side. Pain exploded through him but he ig, desperate to survive this cage match.

  The croed, asto Spider-Man's uny dodge. Emboldened, Peter knew he had to keep moving or he'd be crushed. As Tombstone reared back for another powerful swing, Peter leaped upwards, stig to the cage wall with his hands a like a spider. The crowd roared in shod excitement at this gravity-defying move. Tombstone's fist smashed into the cage, def the metal where Peter's head had been a split sed ago.

  "What's this, folks?! The Spider-Man is sg the walls!" bellowed the disbelieving announcer.

  Peter didn't have time to revel in the crowd's excitement. He scrambled higher, using his adhesive grip while Tombstone bellowed and grasped for his ankles. But Peter was too quick, climbing out of reach. Tombstone shook the cage violently, desperately trying to dislodge his araid oppo but Peter held on, muscles burning from exertion.

  At the top of the cage, Peter surveyed the situation. He might be a matched for Tombstone in strength, but why would he when his new abilities made him far faster and mile? He just had to avoid getting grabbed or ered.

  Taking a breath, Peter leaped, flipping gracefully over the eombstoo nd lightly behind him. The crowd cheered ecstatically at the aerial acrobati dispy. As Tombstone spun around, r and throwing a wild haymaker, Peter dropped and rolled away. Quick as a blink, he bouo his feet, unleashing a flurry of rapid puo Tombstone's lower back before dang away.

  Howls of shod then risiement came from the spectators. This sy kid in a makeshift e was evading the monstrous Tombstone's grasp and now dishing out damage of his own!

  Eombstone whirled with startling speed, huge hands grasping for purchase. Peter barely slipped the grip, feeling the wind of it brush his hair. The chase tinued around the ring, brute force versus agility. For a time, Peter mao stay ahead, peppering Tombstoh minor hits while avoiding the sledgehammer blows aimed at him. But the giant seemed impervious to pain. He couldn't keep running forever. He had to take Tombstone down somehow before he got careless.

  Peter's mind raced, analyzing Tombstone's lumbering gait, seeking weakhen he saw it. When Tombstone kicked, he put all his weight on one leg for just a moment. Peter hatched a desperate pn, baiting Tombstoo another kick. As the giant's leg extended, Peter shot out a web, binding that foot to the floor mid-kick! Gasps rang out as Tombstone realized he was stuck. Seizing the split-sed opportunity, Peter raced forward, leaping onto the immobilized man's shoulders. Before Tombstone could react, Peter unleashed a furious barrage of rapid-fire punches squarely into his face.

  The giant staggered, dazed uhe onsught. Pressing his advantage, Peter spun and delivered a desperate, full-force kibstone's jaw. A siing crack echoed through the arena. Tombstone's eyes rolled ba his head and nearly 500 pounds of muscle crashed to the vas, out cold. The ring shook violently and the crowd went insane.

  Panting and shaking with adrenaline, Peter could scarcely believe it. The bell rang as the announcer decred Spider-Man the winner. He had do. He had beaten Tombstone! As the crowd ted his impromptu moniker, Peter felt reborn.

  The bell rang again, and the announcer roared, "The winner is...Spider-Man! Folks, we have a neion!"

  Iermath, with the crowd still buzzing, Peter made his way to the anizer's booth, heart rag from the match. He could practically feel the 3,000 prize in his hands.

  Approag the booth, the sleazy anizer with a crooked smile ted out 200, sliding it over.

  "Hey, the ad said 3,000," Peter protested.

  The man smirked without even gng up. "Well, the ad also said three minutes. You pinned him in two. You're lucky to get even a couple hundred."

  Peter was stunned, fist g in frustration. "I hat money," he said, struggling to steady his voice.

  "Not my problem," came the dismissive reply. The anizer’s attention was already ba his cash ting.

  Feeling utterly defeated and cheated, Peter stuffed the crumpled bills into his pocket and turned away, the etion of his victory s into anger ament. All he could now afford was a bicycle, not the fshy otorcycle he'd dreamed of. Once agaie doing everything right, his hard work and effort had gotten him nowhere. The story of his life.

  As Peter made his way through the dingy hallway, a sudden otioed behind him. He turo see a panicked man sprinting his way, security guards in hot pursuit.

  "Stop him!" one of the guards shouted, but the thief was fast, barreling straight toeter.

  Peter easily could have tripped the robber rabbed him, stopping him in his tracks. But the bitter sting of the anizer's betrayal was still fresh in his mind. So when the moment came, he did nothing, stepping aside aing the robber pass without a word.

  As the man rushed by, he shot Peter a quiod. "Thanks, kid," he said breathlessly.

  Moments ter, the winded guards ran by, frustratioched on their faces. The anizer caught up to Peter, "Why didn't you stop him?" he demanded.

  Peter couldn't help the bitter smile that crossed his lips. "It's not my problem," he echoed callously, the anizer's dismissive words still ringing in his ears.

  The anizer looked appalled by this. "Not your problem?!"

  Peter shrugged, his residual anger from the bait-and-switch prize money clouding his judgment. "I'm just here to wrestle."

  The fbbergasted anizer just shook his head before taking off after the thief again, yelling at his guards to call for backup. With the hallway y, Peter found his bitterness softening. The brief excitement and satisfa from his victory had evaporated pletely, repced by frustration and injustice. He started heading home, his hands shoved bitterly into his pockets.

  — Rogue Rept —

  Tyson raced through the city’s streets, the cold night air stinging his face. His mind was a whirlwind, repying the bridge events. The Lizard fight, the bystanders' panicked eyes, and Natalie's pierg gaze cut through it all. He'd held her look a fra too long, and a silent aowledgment had passed between them.

  But where were Peter and Uncle Ben? They were the reason he'd rushed to the bridge yet o be found. A sinking feeliled in his stomach, worry for his friends eclipsing the fight's adrenaline.

  As he neared Queens, wailing sirens paihe night sky in flickering red and blue. Tyson followed the sounds, their urgency heightening his ay. The streets became a blur as he wove through traffic, focused solely on finding his friends and ensuring their safety. His motorcycle roared beh him, eg his turbuleions. He was a rider without a destination, guided only by the emergency beas and an intrinsieed to help, to make things right.

  Tyson's journey was cut short as he stumbled into a se that chilled him to the bone. A mass of onlookers had gathered around a small grocery store, patrol cars haphazardly stationed outside. The storefront gss y shattered while Officers held back the crowd.

  Without a sed thought, Tyson abandoned his bike. The world slowed as Tyson pushed through the line of spectators, breath trapped in his throat. There, iark, fshing lights, amidst the turmoil, Peter held a lifeless form.

  Uncle Ben.

  Both men’s shirts were stained with blood. The se ainted with vivid, horrifying crity that would surely be burned into Tyson's mind.

  Peter's face was a mask of desperation, his eyes were wide and shimmering with uears. The crowd around them faded into a blur, their whispers and murmurs an i buzz. Nothing else mattered but the heartbreaking se.

  "Uncle Ben," Tyson mumbled as he took a knee beside Peter. Peter looked so small, the slowly growing fidence gone, repced by a lost boy clutg his uncle as if he could anchor the man's soul to this world by will alone.

  Peter's gaze found Tyson's, and the raw anguish there struck like a physical blow. "He...he tried to stop a thief...got shot," Peter stammered, voice ragged. "I-I called 911, they were supposed to e, they. They said they'd help him!"

  Tyson reached out, resting a gloved hand over Peter’s trembling one. "It's not your fault, Pete," Tyson said, the words ringing hollow even to him. What soce could he possibly provide now?

  The sirens wailed closer as paramedics pushed through the crowd, but Tysohey all knew, it was too te. The vibrant man who'd offered sage advice disguised as casual ents was gone.

  The paramedics arrived, but. Peter g tighter, refusing to let Uncle Ben go. There was nothing the emergency responders coud do. Tyson had to gently coax Peter to release his hold using a slight application of his enharength.

  "You gotta let them help him, Pete," Tysed gently. The plea broke through Peter's shock, and he finally let go, standing numbly with Tyson's support. They backed away together yet isoted in grief as the paramedics fulfilled their duty. A duty no longer holding hope.

  The officers begaioning. But the words barely registered to the teens.

  — Rogue Rept —

  Nick Fury, director of SHIELD, sat at the head of the table, his iic eyepatd stern expression anding attention. t, Coulson, and Natasha surrounded him. "Status report," came his suct order that focused everyone in.

  Natasha began. "The target individual, Tyson, appears to be enhanced in some way. My initial judgment categorized him as a potential super soldier given his extraordinary reflexes and strength exhibited during gym css. His talents vastly eclipsed any normal teen, easily b Olympians." She paused, “During observation, he never demonstrated any of the abilities to avoid dete, shapeshift, or any other power that would expin his appearaed by Barton in our previous meetings.”

  "However, after the i on the overpass, it's evident he possesses more than just enharength and agility. He transformed during his skirmish with another enhanced we’re deeming ‘The Lizard’. Whether this ge was reactive, his previously demonstrated power, a tent capability, or something else entirely, we're still uain.” She paused, sing the faces of her associates sternly. "Despite the mysteries surrounding his talents, his character seems principled. He's shown a strong sense of loyalty to his friends, respect for authority, though relutly at times, and a genuine desire to assist when people are endangered."

  t's lips quirked in a smirk. "It almost sounds like you're fond of him, Nat. Some of those characteristics are due to your involvement or... influence. You've made quite an impression on the kid."

  Her eyes narrowed. "All the more reason to sider bringing him into the fold. If he's seeking role models, he could do far worse."

  Fury folded his hands, gazing at Natasha pensively. "Do you believe he has the makings of a recruit?"

  "Nht now," Natasha admitted. "He's unrefined, but he has promise. And currently, he's alone, which leaves him susceptible to other influences. We have a window to approach. Before he gains someone else’s attention."

  "Or we may be inviting a tig time bomb into our midst," Coulson interjected practically, ever the voice of reason.

  Fury nodded slowly. "We'll o monitor him closely. Natasha, stay with him. Get a better uanding of his nature. t, I want you to keep tabs. Coulson, uncover anything you about this kid's history, his family, anything that might provide us insight."

  Coulson's voice cut through the strategizing. "About that, sir." His tone was different, ced with a gravity that immediately seized the attention of every perso. He slid a dossier across the table, the bold, capitalized words "MUTANTS" embzoned on the cover. "I've discovered something disturbing. It seems our memories, possibly the memories of everyone, have been maniputed. We've been blio a signifit threat."

  t picked up the file, his brows knitting together skeptically. "Is this some kind of joke? Mutants are a myth, a spiracy theory. They aren't real."

  "They are, and they have been here," Coulson responded with unen his voice. "I don't know how it's possible, but it's as if we've been living with a blind spot. Just read the file."

  Details were absorbed, pages reviewed, and the information within the file burned into their minds. Images of beings with supernatural talents, cssified ats of unexpinable events, and stifialyses indig geic deviations. All factual, all verifiable.

  Silence hung heavy for a moment before Natasha shattered it, her voice betraying none of the disquiet within. "This ges everything. How could we have missed or fotten this?"

  Fury's single eye bored into them, intense and unpromising. "That's what we o uncover. Coulson, you and Hill dig deeper. Determihe scope of this memory manipution and how it was aplished."

  Fury stated firmly, uating. "We proceed as pnned, but with heightened vigince. If Tyson is a mutant, our prior assessment may not be accurately ating for his power. And he may not be the only one."

  Coulson nodded, already piling the resources required for su iigation. "We should also look into known associates, see if there are any es to mutants or reted is."

  "Agreed," Fury aowledged with a sharp dip of his . He turned his attention to Natasha. "Maintain your cover. Keep Tyson. If he is a mutant, he's our best aveo uanding what we're up against."

  "And if he uncovers our motives?" Natasha pressed, aware of her precarious position.

  "We'll hahat situation as it develops," Fury stated decisively. His eye traced over each of them in turn. "We aren't in the business of recruiting children, but we are in the business of safeguarding the world. If this kid is what you cim, Natasha, he'll need allies. It's better for everyone if those allies are us."

  The meeting adjourned, and the weight of their new mission desded upon them as they set off to their assigasks. Drawing an enhanced individual into the fold would be no simple matter. And this was no lorag one anomalous, enhanced individual. They were plunging into a mystery capable of redefining their prehension of the world itself. Mutants were real. A truth they were only beginning to unravel.

  AN: RIP Uncle Ben.

  Question for reviewers

  We saw Lizard, Bck Cat, and Tombsto there was oher vilin subtly introduced in this chapter. Did you catch it?

  Behind the ses

  - The fight between Tyson and the Lizard was told from Natasha’s perspective. This perspective shift left out two key details. The fsh of memories Tyson received from the Lizard, and Tyson’s attempt at using illusions on the Lizard. But I hoped that the perspective shift enhahe chapter rather tharacted from it. If you have an opinion, I’d like to hear it in the reviews.

  - During this Arc, the date at the start of the chapter provide more text to the story. In the previous arcs usually only a feassed between chapters, and time skips were noted within the narrative. Here chapters may be days, or weeks apart.

  - In Spiderman (2002) Peter fights Bonesaw, pyed by Maan Randy Savage. Fun se. But here I switched with Tombstone because Spiderman has aensive rogues gallery and it was the perfect opportunity to throw in a lower-level vilin. Others I sidered to debut here were Mountain Man Marko, Kangaroo, Grizzly, and Gibbon. Leave a review if you want to see the Spiderman Revenge Squad / Legion of Losers.

  - During the opening of the Lizard fight, I described Tyson's first dodge as

  “Obeat, he was directly ih of certaih, the he had flowed around the creature's lethal strike, like water, to nd a series of blindingly fast blows that made the Lizard reel back with an enraged, fused roar.”

  This is a call back to Tyson's first, free lesson at Chikara Dojo.

  Tyson first. His strikes were precise, and calcuted, but cked a certain fluidity. "You're tid," Colleen observed. "Think of the water. It flots, ges its form but never loses its essence."

  That in turn was ripped from a famous Bruce Lee quote.