Date: Thursday, November 25, 2010.

  Location: Four Season Hotel Downtown, Manhattan, New York

  Tyson had just finished food for ter when his phone began t. Cheg the caller ID, he saw it was his friend Jubilee and answered.

  "Hey Jubes, what's up?" he said into the phone.

  Jubilee's voice came through the speakers, crag with excitement. "Dude, please tell me you saw it!" she excimed. "The interview! Iron Man! It's all over the news."

  Tyson paused, genuinely fused. He had been so focused on making meal pns that he had no idea what she was talking about. "Saw what?" he asked.

  He could practically hear Jubilee rolling her eyes in exasperation through the phohe interview, Tyson!" she repeated, her tone a mixture of frustration and disbelief at his ignorance. "Iron Man! It's everywhere."

  "Hang o me check," Tyson replied, quickly scrolling through the news on his phohere it was, the shog headline gring from every media outlet: "Tony Stark Reveals He Is Iron Man."

  Intrigued, he clicked on a video of the interview. Tony Stark stood fidently before a crowd of cm reporters, his charismatic preseninating the room. The air was teh anticipation as he prepared to speak.

  "As many of you know, I’ve got a great retionship with the press. We’ve had some good times, and we’ve had some tough times," Tony began, his voice oozing the familiar nond bravado that the world had e to associate with the billionaire.

  "When I came back from Afghanistan, I said we were going to do things differently, run this pany differently," Tony tinued, a hint of seriousness pierg through his casual demeanor. "I’m sure you’ve seen the papers. Am I right?"

  The press murmured, cameras fshing. They all khe troversy he was referring to.

  "There's beeion that I was involved in the events that occurred on the freeway and the rooftop..." Tony Stark added, pausing as if sidering his words carefully.

  "I'm sorry, Mr. Stark, but do you holy expect us to believe that you're... Iron Man?" one of the reporters challenged, skepticism heavy in his voice.

  Tony's gaze swept across the sea of faces, a smirk tugging at his lips. There was a beat of silence, a moment of pure theatrical suspense. And then, with the effortless fidehat only Tony Stark possessed, he delivered the lihat would forever ge the course of superhero history.

  "The truth is... I am Iron Man."

  The press erupted, a cacophony of shock, disbelief, and the rapid-fire clig of cameras doting the historifession.

  Tyson paused the video, letting out a low whistle as he took in the image of Tony Stark on the s. That was the Tony Stark he remembered. Utterly cool.

  "Okay, yeah, I just saw it. Crazy!" Tyson excimed, turning to Jubilee who sat beside him on the couch.

  "I knht?!" Jubilee responded, her voice bubbly with excitement. "Who just does that? Admits to being a superhero on live TV?"

  "Tony Stark, apparently," Tyson ughed, shaking his head in amused disbelief. "Guy's got muts than a fish market."

  Jubilee ractically buzzing, her eyes alight. "So, if Iron Man asked you to team up, would you? What if he asked you to be his sidekick?"

  Tyson leaned back against the couch cushions, sidering her questions thoughtfully. "I don't know about being anyone's sidekick, Jubes. But team up? Sure. Worked pretty well with Spidey and Bck Cat."

  "Bck Cat?" Jubilee's tone spiked with curiosity at the mention of the name. "Who's that?"

  "That indepe I mentioned w with," Tyson expined, "She's amazing, smart, skilled. But she doesn’t have powers like us."

  Jubilee's voice carried a sly edge. "So, are you two an item yet?"

  "Nah," Tyson responded, feeling a shy smile creep onto his face, one Jubilee couldn't see with his back to her. "Not yet. Maybe soon, though."

  "And what about the hot teacher you keep going on about?" Jubilee tio tease. "Have you asked her out yet?"

  "Like I said, all in time, Jubes," Tyson chuckled, shaking his head in amusement at her persistence.

  Tyson listened as a sly edge crept into Jubilee's tone as she shifted the versation. "Got any big pns for Thanksgiving?"

  "Yeah, hosting a little get-together," Tyson started to expin, "Invited a few people and their families ot some food catered. Should be fun."

  Jubilee huffed in annoyance, her frustrated breath hissing over the phone. "And where's my invite?"

  "Look, Jubes, I'd have you over in a heartbeat, you know that," Tyson said early, his tone apologetic as he pictured her in his mind's eye, full lips pursed in frustration, dark hair wisping around her face. "But after fighting with the Lizard and Green Goblin, I don't want t you into anything dangerous."

  Jubilee sighed, the sound tinny and resighrough the phone. "Fine. But you’re making it up to me, Tyson. After graduation, it’s you and me. No more excuses, no more supervilins. Just us hanging out."

  "Deal," Tyson agreed readily, his tone firm and resolute. "No more excuses. It's a promise." He meant it with every fiber of his being. No matter what crazihe future held, he would carve out time for his friend.

  Satisfied, Jubilee let him go, ending the call after a final demand for a future get-together. Tyson tucked the phone ba his pocket, already anticipating making good on his word. He fully inteo keep his promise, no matter what trials might lie ahead.

  — Rogue Rept —

  The wail of sirens guided Spider-Man as he swuwee skyscrapers of the city. Below him, a fierce bze ed an apartment building, e tongues of fme lig up the brick sides as thick bck smoke billowed into the m sky. Firefighters battled the raging inferno with powerful hoses while panicked people on the sidewalk cried out in arm. Amidst the shouting and turmoil, one anguished mother's screams rose above the rest, begging for someoo save her child still trapped ihe burning building.

  Without hesitation, Spider-Man spriowards the entrance of the bzing apartment structure. He fought through the wall of heat and fmes that tried to force him back, pressing forward into the building. Then, over the roar and crackle of the fire, he heard a soft, frightened sob ing from somewhere above him. Quickly sg the crumbling walls and stairwells, Spider-Man followed the cries to a smoke-filled hallway on the fourth floor. There, crouched beh a window, he found a young girl no more than six years old, her eyes wide with terror.

  Scooping the child into his arms, Spider-Man said in a calm, steady voice, "I've got you." Holding her close to his chest, he bouhrough the building, dodging falling debris and leaping through fme-filled rooms.

  The fmes roared like a beast alive as Spider-Man emerged from the burning building, the child safe in his arms. The crowd erupted into cheers, their joy a stark trast to the seari and chaos. However, amidst the celebration, a stern voice cut through the otion.

  A police officer demanded, "Hold it right there!" He stepped forward, hand closing on the grip of his service on. He drew it from its holster with practiced ease. "You're wanted in e with..."

  Spider-Maly transferred the child into the waiting arms of the paramedics before turning to face the officer. Though his body nguage veyed a mixture of readiness aance, his masked face was unreadable.

  A scream pierced through the roar of the fmes, eg from within the burning building. Spider-Man tilted his head slightly at the sound. "There's someone else still inside," he said, his voice edged with steely determination. "I have to go back."

  The officer's gaze hardehough his gun remained aimed at the ground. He was well aware of protocols aions. But before he could respond, another desperate scream rang out, a life hanging precariously in the bance. Spider-Man tensed, coiled tight as a spring, ready to leap bato the inferno.

  The officer wrestled with himself, torween upholding the letter of the w and aowledging the hero who stood before him. "Go," he said finally, holstering his on and stepping aside. "I'll be here waiting when you get back."

  Spider-Man edged toward the building, the fmes refleg off his glossy lenses. "I won't be ing back, Chief," he said simply, and then he was gone, ung himself bato the seari without hesitation.

  The officer watched him disappear into the smoke and fire. He hoped that Spider-Man was wrong, but feared that he was right. Gripping his radio, he called for backup and ambunces. Now it was a waiting game, the clock tig down on the hope of any more survivors.

  Floor by floor, the ed hero asded through the fmes and smoke, following the desperate cries of a woman in need. When Spider-Man reached her, the woman turned around, dropping the thick purple shawl she had ed herself in. But it was not another victim that stood before the hero. Instead, Spider-Man found himself face-to-face with the menag figure of the Green Goblin, a cruel smirk pyed on the vilin's lips. An ominous, sinister chuckle rang out over the crag roar of the fire surrounding them. Spider-Man barely mao dodge the first razor bat that the Goblin hurled his way.

  "You're pathetically predictable! Like a moth to the fme," the Green Goblin sneered, his voice a guttural, inhuman growl from behind his mask. The vilin's glider swooped around the fined, fiery space, poised for atack. "What about my generous proposal, Spider-Man? Are you in or are you out?"

  "You already know my answer," Spider-Man shouted back. "I don't do deals with psychos."

  The Green Goblin's ughter was like shards of ice, cold and sharp. "Wrong answer!" he retorted, unleashing more of his deadly razor bats at the hero. The sound of his tinued cackles was grating and chilling. "Pity. We could have aplished such great things together."

  The fight was intense, a flurry of motion amidst flickering shadows and fmes. Spider-Man leaped and somersaulted, webs shooting from his wrists to deflect projectiles. But the Goblin was relentless, and his arsenal vast. One of his razor bats grazed Spider-Man's arm, the sharp pain almost immediate, his suit torn and blood beginning to seep out. The young hero ched his teeth, stifling any sound of pain. He couldn't afford distra, not when so much was at stake. He turned back to ehe Green Goblin, but the vilin was gone. Vanished into the smoke and fmes.

  Spider-Man peered into the haze, seraining. Where did he go? A creaking noise overhead was his only warning before a heavy beam came crashing down. Spider-Man dove and rolled out of the way just in time. The building was ing down around him. He had to get out, now. Sprinting for the window, the hero crashed through in a shower of gss. Outside, he fired a webline and swung away, gliding over the street below.

  — Rogue Rept —

  The afternoon sun ast its highest point in the sky, angling its rays through the expansive windows of the Empire Suite, casting long shadows across the elegant interior. Ihe warm and inviting smells of a Thanksgivi wafted through the rooms. May Parker checked on the plump turkey roasting in the oven, its savory aroma a promise of the homey fort food to e.

  Soon after, Gwen Stacy arrived with her family members, each carrying foil-covered dishes in hand. "The Stacys e bearing gifts!" Gwen announced cheerfully, her sea-green eyes alight with the excitement that family gatherings often kindled within her.

  "Ah, this must be the Branzino you wouldn't stop talking about," said Tyson smoothly, helping them store their coats and grabbing the food they brought to relieve them of their burdens.

  "You know it!" Gwen firmed, exging a look of easy camaraderie with her friend Tyson. Their friendship had grown in the months sihey were first paired together iry css.

  Earlier, Felicia Hardy had been the first to arrive, a sleek bck dress that subtly hi her secret alter ego. Mary Jason and Harry Osborn arrived together , walking hand in hand, wearing smiles and with interced fingers. "Happy Thanksgiving, big guy," Mary Jane greeted Tyson warmly.

  Tyson ushered Mary Jane and Harry Osborn into the warmly lit apartment, the savory smells of Thanksgiving dinner already perfuming the air. "Wele, guys!" he said. "MJ, everyone's inside. You know Aunt May, right?"

  Mary Jane's face lit up with reition as she caught sight of Peter Parker's kindly aunt. "Of course, who could fet the best cooking in New York?" she said, moving to give Aunt May an affeate hug. Aunt May flushed with pleasure at the pliment, her weathered face creasing into a smile.

  Tyson had extended an invitation to Peter and Aunt May for Thanksgiving dihough only a mere three weeks had passed sihe tragic death of Uncle Ben. The wounds were still fresh, but he had hoped the warmth of the holiday gathering would lift their spirits. Peter had asked if Tyson could also invite Gwen Stacy. In the weeks since Ben's death, Gwen's panionship had bee a lifeline for Peter. Her passion for sce resonated with his brilliant mind in a way that Tyson simply could not replicate, and that e had helped Peter through his grieving. Then, of course, Peter also wished for his best friend Harry Osborn to attend as well. Harry was eager t his new girlfriend, Mary Jason, to introduce her to the group, especially his father so they could meet for the first time. As the guest list ballooned far past Tyson's initial vision, he fretted over the plicated dynamics that would verge under his roof. Unbeknownst to the others, both the Spider-Man and the Green Goblin would be in attendaheir secret identities still hidden from one another.

  Tyson busied himself i. May had prepared the plump turkey and the Stacy's had brought fish. Tyson fiing all the other side dishes he'd ordered from the Four Seasons kit. The savory aromas of sage and roasted garlic spread through the apartment. A knock at the door drew him from his ary focus.

  Then, with impeccable timing, Norman Osborn made his entrance, as if summoned by Tyson's thoughts. There was always an air of tightly coiled iy around Osborn, his charisma was almost a palpable force. His sharp, assessing eyes took in the room and its octs, calg even in this rexed social setting.

  "Mr. Osborn, wele!" Tyson moved to greet him, haended in wele, a practiced smile on his face.

  "Thank you for the invitation, Tyson," Osborn replied smoothly, yet with an edge in his voice that pelled attention. "Sorry I'm te… Work was murder… I picked up a fruitcake." His gaze flickered around the room. "I see you've gathered quite the crowd."

  Tyson raised his voice to carry over the murmur of versation. "Everyohis is Norman Osborn. Norman, that's Gwen, she's an intern under Dr. ors and that's her family." He indicated Felicia Hardy with a tilt of his head. "That's Felicia Hardy, and here is Peter Parker's Aunt May."

  Aunt May offered a kind, kly smile. "A pleasure, ma'am," Normaed her, taking her hand with a courtly charm that wasn't reflected in his i eyes.

  "And that's MJ," Tyson finished, motioning to where Mary Jaood arm-in-arm with Harry.

  Norman's gaze sharpened just a fra as he regarded his son and the girl he'd brought. "So, you're the young dy my son's been—"

  "Mad about? Yeah, guilty," MJ interjected with a pyful griending her hand. "Mary Jason, Mr. Osborn, but you call me MJ."

  Outside, Peter Parker arrived te to Tyson's Thanksgiving dinner, having climbed up the exterior of the high-rise building to reach the penthouse baly. His brown hair was wi and his cheeks flushed from the exertion as he knocked softly on the gss to get Gwen Stacy's attention. Gwen, who'd been closest to the tall windows, slid open the baly door, her smile widening at the sight of him.

  "Hi. How did you get out there?" Gwen asked in a light, teasing tone.

  "Fire escape," Peter admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "The opulence of the lobby was a bit too intimidating for me."

  Gwen raised a slim, blonde eyebrow. "It's twenty stories, Peter." Her expression was a mix of amusement and for his safety.

  "Yeah, it's alright," he shrugged, trying to py it cool despite what would be a dizzying climb up the side of the building for anyone else.

  Peter's expression then shifted to enthusiasm as he remembered the flowers tucked away in his bag. "Oh, I got your mom these..." He trailed off as he pulled out the bouquet of pink roses, now broken and disheveled. "They were nice," he mumbled, disappoi written on his boyish face.

  "They're lovely," Gwen insisted warmly, her green eyes radiating reassurance. "Really, they held together remarkably well all things sidered."

  Heartened by her response, Peter smiled, his brown eyes regaining their spark. "You know what, I'm going to keep these," he decided, carefully tug the roses bato his bag.

  "Do you have your suit in there?" When Gwen asked about his suit, Peter's eyes went wide with the panic of someone caught in an obvious lie.

  Before he could stammer out an expnation, Tysoered the room and greeted Peter warmly despite his awkward arrival. Notig Peter hastily shoving the broken bouquet bato his bag, Tyson disappeared briefly aurned with a fresh bouquet of roses that he hao the younger man. Wanting to inspicuously shift focus away from Peter's unusual arrival, Tyson had also grabbed half a dozen white roses from the bedroom for Felicia. In the main area, he presehem to the ptinum-haired beauty. She accepted them and a pleased surprise lit up her delicate features.

  Seeing the flowers, Mary Jane pyfully looked to Harry, who flushed under her gaze but was saved when Tyson slyly pressed a bouquet of red roses into his hand. Harry presehem to Mary Jah an awkward flourish that only made the gesture more endearing. Light ughter filled the room, lifting the mood. It was then that Peter made his entrance.

  "Hey everyone, sorry I'm te," Peter announced as he ehe room. "It's a ju there. I had to beat an old dy with a stick to get these berries." He held up a of berry sauce with exaggerated drama.

  Mhter greeted his humor. Aunt May accepted the berries with a gentle smile and pnted a kiss oer's cheek in wordless gratitude. "Now then, everyo down and we say grace," she said, her voice warm and maternal.

  The guests settled into the cushioned dining chairs around the long mahogany table, the soft ks of fine a and rustles of clothing undersg the movements. Tyson assisted Aunt May in bringing out the remaining dishes of the vish Thanksgiving spread.

  Norman Osborn's hand snaked out to grab a pinch of the toasted marshmallow topping the sweet potatoes, but Aunt May's age-spotted hand intercepted his with a swift sp. "Norman, would you do us the honors?" she asked, a grandmotherly twinkle in her pale blue eyes.

  Norman's icy gaze sharpened for a split sed, his eyes went as frigid before he schooled his features into a sembnce of cordiality. He slowly licked the sticky marshmallow from his fingers, his tongue nguid, while maintaining pierg eye tact with Aunt May. Reag for the carving knife, Normaed its bde with deliberate strokes, the razor-sharp edge gleaming ominously beh the golden light of the delier.

  Tyson had anticipated the ing iion with Norman. He positioned himself within arm's reach of Aunt May, prepared to intervene if the murderous glint that had fshed in Norman's eyes became more than a threat. Tyson's meta-knowledge warned him that Norman shouldn't attack, but he remained wary. Things had already ged from what he'd remembered. Plus someone as unhinged as Norman was, with a knife, would always be a cause for .

  The cheerful din that had filled Tyson's apartment moments before va Aunt May's armed excmation. "Peter... You're bleeding!"

  All eyes so Peter, zeroing in on the expanding crimson stain on his sleeve. Tyson muttered a quiet curse under his breath. "Fuck." It was too te for Tyson to even believably cover the bleeding with his illusions. How had he overlooked the blood oer's arm?

  "Ah, it's nothing," Peter said, trying to sound casual. "Just got clipped by a bike messenger when I stepped off the curb earlier."

  Aunt May was having none of it. "Let me see that," she insisted, her tole but firm. Peter knew better than tue when she used that voice. With a relut sigh, Peter extended his arm to show her the ragged tear in his sleeve, the fabric dark a with blood. Aunt May's brows drew together in worry as she examihe nasty-looking gash beh. "It looks terrible," she fretted. "We o get this ed and bandaged right away."

  Across the table, Norman's motions of sharpening the carving knife had slowed, then stopped altogether as his focus shifted to Peter and the injury that had captured everyone's attention. His pale eyes were i, calg, as he stared at the torn flesh.

  "You said a bicycle messenger did this?" Norman asked, his toively mild even as his gaze remained razor sharp, missing nothing.

  "Yeah, came out of nowhere and knocked me down," Peter said with a casual shrug that didn't quite reach his eyes. He held Norman's scrutinizing stare evenly.

  Abruptly, Norman stood, the legs of his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "My apologies, but I'm afraid I must be going," he announced curtly.

  Harry looked up at his father in fusion. "What? Why?"

  "Something urgent has e to my attention," Norman replied vaguely. He grabbed his suit jacket and strode purposefully to the door without another word.

  Tyson sidered intervening but held himself back. The Green Goblin stht in front of him, devoid of his armor and tech. Tyson was fident that with his illusions, he could enthrall everyone present and take Norman out on the spot. It would be so easy. But there were too many risks. Revealing himself now could expose his abilities and identity. His friends and their families could bee targets for retaliation. And even without any of his goblin equipment, Norman was still basically a super soldier, still dangerous.

  So Tyson remaiill, giving no indication of his ing thoughts. There would be aime to deal with the Green Goblin. For now, discretion was the better part of valor. Patience was needed. He let out a slow, steady breath as Normaed without i.

  "Dad?" Harry half-stood, worry creeping into his voice as he stared after his father's rapidly departing figure. But Norman was already out the door, his abrupt exit leaving an uneasy silence hanging over the interrupted dinner party. The abrupt departure of Norman Osborn cast a pall over the previously festive dinner party. Uneasy gnces were exged around the table as the guests sat in stunned silehe cozy warmth of celebration had been cooled by the tension now filling the room. Harry Osborn’s face was etched with frustration as he hurried after his father. Catg up to him iryway, Harry demanded, “What are you doing? The whole point of ing to this dinner was so you could meet MJ, and now you have to leave?” Disappoi was clear in his voice.

  “I’ve got to go,” Norman replied curtly, his mind clearly elsewhere.

  “But this girl is really important to me,” Harry tried again, but his father’s response was sharp and dismissive.

  “Harry, please,” Norman scoffed, his voice carryie the hushed tone. “You think a woman like that is sniffing around because she actually likes your personality?”

  Inside, Mary Jason’s face fell, her heart sinking. Norman’s words were a dagger, and the fact that they were spoken so pinly, so publicly, only twisted the bde. Stunned, Harry could only stutter in reply, “What are you saying?”

  Norman’s voice was cold, almost venomous. “Your mother was beautiful too. They’re all beautiful until they’re snarling after your trust fund like a pack of ravening wolves.”

  “You’re wrong about her, Dad,” Harry defended, but his words seemed to bounce off Norman.

  Raising his voiorman decred, “A word to the not-so-wise about your little girlfriend. Do what you o with her, then broom her fast.”

  The sm of the door punctuated his harsh words, leaving behind a heavy silence.

  The living room which was warm and weling just minutes earlier was now steeped in an unfortable silence. Mary Jason stood abruptly from the table, her face flushed with emotion and her voice dripping with wounded sarcasm as she addressed Harry when he re-entered. “Thanks for stig up for me, Harry.”

  Harry winced, realizing the full extent of the damage his father's harsh words had caused. “You heard?” he asked weakly, knowing there was no way she could have missed the cruel remarks Norman had hurled towards her.

  “Everyone heard that creep,” Mary Jaed angrily as she grabbed her jacket from the back of a chair, her jerky movements revealing her iion to leave.

  “That creep is my father,” Harry defehough his words seemed to bounce off her, failing to nd. His own pain spilled out unchecked as he tinued, “If I’m lucky, I’ll be half of what he is. So just keep your mouth shut about things you don’t uand!”

  Aunt May, who had been sitting quietly he firepce attempting to avoid the frontation, was sdalized by Harry's disrespectful tone. She interjected sharply, “Harry Osborn!” Her usually gentle face inched with distress over the ugly tension that now saturated the cozy room.

  Mary Jane was deeply hurt but maintained her dignity. She turned back to face the room, her eyes bright. “I’m sorry, Aunt May. Everyone,” she apologized, her voice quivering slightly before she walked briskly out the front door, leaving behind an unfortable silence.

  Felicia sehe need for someoo diffuse the votile situation and J. She stood gracefully, brushing imaginary lint from her stylish bck pants. “I’ll go talk to her,” she announced softly. As she passed Tyson, she briefly touched his shoulder and whispered reassuringly, “I’ll be back.” With an icy gre at Harry, she slipped out the door after Mary Jane.

  Felicia returned shortly thereafter, her expression somber. "I'm afraid Mary Jane wasn't up for ing back," she reyed as she recimed her seat o Tyson. "She wanted me to tell you all that it leasure meeting you."

  Harry excused himself, quickly slipping out the door, likely going after either his father irlfriend who had both just left the teuation. Felicia let out a quiet sigh, brushing a strand of ptinum hair behind her ear before turnitention back to the others and reg her seat o Tyson.

  Tyson's broad shoulders were slumped forward, his muscur arms crossed over his barrel chest. Felicia reached out and gave his forearm a gentle, reassuring squeeze. The tension in the room remained palpable. Aunt May moved to say grace, and soon everyone began filling their ptes, trying to rekihe spirit from earlier in the evening.

  The versation was tentative at first until one of Gwen's younger brothers, curiosity lighting up his face, piped up. "Hey Dad, did you catch that Spider-Guy yet?"

  Mr. Stacy's tone hardened. "No, we haven't caught him yet, but we will. He's an amateur who's assaulting civilians. He's clumsy and leaves clues behind, but he's still dangerous." Gwen's face tightened in a silent plea for her brother to ge the subject.

  Uo stop himself, Peter chimed in. "He's assaulting people? I don't know, I saw that video of him with the car thief. I think most people would say he roviding a public service."

  "Most people would be wrong," Mr. Stacy retorted, his steely gaze fixed oer. "If I wahat car thief off the street, he'd already be off the street."

  Peter's brow furrowed in fusion. "So why wasn't he then?" he asked, genuinely curious.

  Gwen released a humorless ugh, tension radiating off of her in waves. Mr. Stacy leaned in, uerred. "Let me enlighten you," he said desdingly. "That car thief was leading us to the people running the entire operation. It's been a six-month-long sting operation. It's this thing called strategy. I'm sure they've taught you about it in school."

  The air grew thick with tension as Peter's face clouded, the perceived injustir. Stacy's statement striking a chord. His brow furrowed and his jaw tightened, offense rising in his chest. Just as the versatioered on the brink of a more heated turn,

  Mr. Stacy grumbled under his breath, his disdain for the ed viginte evident. "Oer, he's made out to look like some kind of masked hero or something."

  Peter shook his head early, his dark hair falling across his forehead. "No, I'm not saying he's a hero," he tered. "I don't think he's a hero at all."

  The tension iacy's dining room alpable as Gee Stacy fixed Peter with an inteare. "What are y to say?" he pressed, his voice tight.

  Peter met the police captain's gaze unflingly. "I'm saying it looks like Spider-Man is trying to help, and do something the police 't," he replied evenly.

  Stacy's face flushed with anger and he smmed his hand oable, rattling the dishes. "Something the police 't? What do you think we do all day? Sit arouing doughnuts while twiddling our thumbs?" he thundered.

  "Daddy!" Gwen admonished, her cheeks fming in embarrassment at her father's outburst.

  "Gee," his wife chastised sharply, her disapproval evident.

  Leaning ba his chair, all eyes in the room turo focus on Tyson as he cleared his throat, "The young dy who left earlier, Mary Jane," he began, "she was at the Unity Day parade, the one where the madman with the glider started throwing bombs all over the pce. The police were there, yes, but they were uo stop him." Tyson paused, letting the significe of his words sink in. "It ider-Man who saved MJ as she fell from the baly of Oscorp Tower." Tyson's eyes swept the room meaningfully as he tinued. "I was there, interning with Oscorp security, and saw it myself. If not for Spider-Man, MJ and a bunch of other people would've died that day." A weighty silence fell over the room as the undeniable truth of his words hung in the air. Even Mr. Stacy seemed to sider this, his expression thoughtful as he processed the first-hand at of Spider-Man's heroism.

  After a long moment, Peter broke the silence, his offeill evident. "He obviously didn't know you had a pn in pce," he pointed out, uo let Mr. Stacy's criticism of Spider-Man stand unchalleyson shook his head, wishier had just let the matter rest.

  Mr. Stacy's eyes narrowed, his face clouding with suspi. "You seem to know an awful lot about this case," he accused, pointing his fork at Peter. "You know something we don't. Whose side are you on here?"

  Peter raised his hands slightly, palms out in a pg gesture. "I'm not on anyone's side," he reasoned, keeping his voice even. "It looks like Spider-Man is trying to help, that's all."

  Peter held up a hand in a ciliatesture. "I think Spider-Man stands for what you stand for, sir. Proteg i people from criminals," he expined early.

  Stacy's scowl only deepened. "I stand for w and order, son. That's what I stand for. I wear a badge. This Spider guy wears a mask like some kind of outw. He's hunting people down like he's got some personal vea. He's no protector of the i, Mr. Parker," he retorted bitterly.

  The csh hung over the table like a thundercloud. Sensing the need for a respite, Gwen pushed back her chair and stood up. "Let's get some air, Peter," she suggested, her voice strained.

  As Peter rose to join Gwen, Aunt May's soft but insistent voice reached his ears. "Peter, apologize."

  He turned back, his expressiretful. "I'm sorry if I insulted you sir, that wasn't my iion," he offered sincerely, before following Gwen out onto the baly.

  Peter and Gwen had stepped out, leaving the charged atmosphere of the dining room behind, but the mood at the table remaihe residue of the earlier frontatioweeer and Mr. Stacy still hung heavy over the remaining diners. Tyson sensed an opportunity to provide some crity oer's perspective he decided to address the still visibly upset police captain. He began respectfully, nodding towards Aunt May as he spoke. "Five me fing this up, Aunt May," Tyson's voice was calm and steady, seeking no flict but only greater uandiween them. He then turned his full attention to the stern officer, meeting the man's gaze with his own steady and sincere one. "You're likely not aware of this, sir, but Peter lost his parents when he was very young. And just this month, his uncle Ben was killed in a brutal car-jag." Tyson paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "Being a police officer, this is likely a on story you hear. It's a big city. People die all the time. But to someone where the wounds are still so fresh..." He trailed off, holding Mr. Stacy's gaze. "Seeing a masked hero out there, saving lives and stopping criminals like the one who killed Peter's uncle… Uandably, such a person could bee a powerful symbol of hope for him."

  A heavy silence fell over the table as Mr. Stacy processed this new perspective, his stern facade faltering. The king of cutlery on ptes seemed loud in the ensuing quiet. Aunt May's eyes glistened, but she held a graceful, posed expression.

  Gwen's mother, Helen, reached over and pced a f hand over Aunt May's weathered one. "I'm so sorry, May. We had no idea," she said, genuine sympathy filling her voice.

  Mr. Stacy cleared his throat gruffly, the earlier defensiveness seeping out of his posture, repow by a glint ret in his eyes. "I didn't have a plete picture of the boy's circumstances," he admitted. His voice was gruff, but his tone had lost its hard edge. "It's easy tet that everyone has their own story, their reasons for their passions."

  Aunt May nodded gently, her voice steady though it carried a tremor of restraiion. "Thank you, Tyson, for shedding light on it. Peter is a good boy. He's been through more than most his age."

  The cool night air was a stark trast to the heated atmosphere they had just left. Outside, the city lights twinkled like stars, the noise from the streets below served as a gentle reminder of life moving on, unpaused by their personal dramas. Gwen leaned against the railing, her eyes oyscape as she exhaled a heavy breath, the earlier tension still visible i of her shoulders.

  Gwen turo face Peter, the city lights casting a soft glow on her features. "Well, that was something," she said.

  "I'm sorry. You know, I thought he was going to arrest me at one point," Peter remarked. The er of his mouth twitched upwards in a half-hearted attempt at lightening the mood.

  "Yeah, I wouldn't have let him arrest you," Gwen responded, her tone pyful yet with an underlying serioushat said she meant every word. There ause, the air between them charged with more than just the remnants of the awkward dinner. Gwen's eyes narrowed slightly, etg her features. "What happeo your face?" she asked, indig the light bruising around his eyes.

  But Peter spoke at the same time, his words tumbling out in a rush, "I'm gonna tell you something."

  "Oh? Okay," Gwen replied. His suddeion piqued her curiosity.

  "I've been bitten," Peter said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

  "Me too," Gwen responded, leaning in closer, her breath warm against his cheek.

  They moved as if magized, on the brink of a kiss, but theer froze, uaiched on his face. “Okay okay. I’ve gotta tell you this ohing. I’ve gotta say this ohing and it’s...it’s about the viginte and the car thief. All right?” Gwen stepped back, disappoi clouding her expressioer hurried to correct himself. "No, no, not that." He gestured helplessly, grasping for the right words. "I'm not gonna talk about that. I'm gonna talk about me, okay?"

  Gwen searched his eyes. "What about you?"

  "I wish I could just..." Peter trailed off with a frustrated shake of his head. "I 't. It's hard to say."

  Gwen's voice was a whisper in the night. "Just say it."

  Peter released a heavy breath and leaned on the baly railing, chest heaving. He shook his head again, every line of his body taut with frustration. With a frustration mirr his, Gwen turned on her heel to walk away. She had barely taken three steps wheer's web shot out and snagged her gently around the waist. Gwen had spun gracefully as Peter pulled her back toward him with a web line. She nded in his arms with a gasp.

  "You..." she breathed, the word half-lost as their lips met in a sudden, passionate kiss.

  Peter's frustrations seemed to melt away as he held Gwen close, one hand tangling in her blonde hair while the other pressed against the small of her back. The cool night air brushed over them as they stood embraced on the baly, but her noticed, too caught up in the warmth of each other.

  Gwen's hands curled into fists, bung the fabric of Peter's shirt as she returhe kiss eagerly. The awkwardness of their earlier iion dissipated, repced by dizzy exhiration. For that fleeting moment, nothing else mattered but the two of them uhe watchful eye of the crest moon.

  When they finally parted for air, both were relut to fully let go. Peter kept his arms around Gwen's waist while her hands slid down to rest against his chest. Their accelerated breathing mingled between them as they gazed into each other's eyes. The frustrations that had seemed so insoluble just minutes before now seemed insignifit pared to this blossoming love between them.

  Peter's head jerked up at the sound of someone clearing their throat. He and Gwen sprang apart as if aric current had passed between them. His gaze darted guiltily toward the cityscape, uo meet the eyes of the intruder. Gwen's head soward the baly doorway, cheeks flushing pink.

  Tyson stood irance, an apologetic half-smile tugging at his lips. "Sorry for interrupting," he said. "Gwen, your father wao speak with you. He was hoping you'd e baside."

  Peter shifted his weight unfortably as Gwen turo face Tyson fully. Her blush had spread to the tips of her ears.

  "Oh, uh, thanks Tyson," Gwen stammered. She smoothed her hands over her dress nervously. "I'll head in right away."

  Tyson nodded, his smile turning wry. "No rush. I'll let him know you'll be there in a few minutes." His gaze flickered betweewo of them knowingly before he slipped baside.

  An awkward silence desded. Peter scuffed his shoe against the baly floor, keenly aware of Gwen's presenext to him. The cold night air raised goosebumps on his arms now that the warmth of her touch was gone. He finally worked up the o g her.

  G her bottom lip betweeeeth. She let out a shaky exhale and offered him a tentative smile. "So...that was something, huh?"

  Peter let out a soft huff of ughter, the tension in his shoulders easing. "Yeah. Something." He reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "We'll talk ter?"

  Her smile widened and she squeezed his hand iurn. "Definitely." With obvious reluce, she pulled away and headed for the baly door. At the entrance she paused and looked back, eyes bright.

  Gwen's name echoed from the interior of the apartment, pullitention away from Peter. "Yeah, I'm ing," she called over her shoulder, her gaze lingering on the man before her as she backed toward the baly door. Soft ughter bubbled up from her chest and spilled past her lips, still tingling from the passionate kiss they had shared only moments before. She left the door open behind her as she disappeared inside.

  Peter let out a slow breath, rolling the tension from his shoulders as he turned back to take in the sprawling cityscape. The click of the baly door annouhe arrival of Tysoer's friend ambled over casually to lean against the railing, assuming a spot o Peter.

  "Some party, huh?" Tyson remarked, his eyes sing the glittering towers that surrouhem.

  Peter huffed out a quiet ugh. "You could say that again." His mind repyed the heated enter with Gwen, still fresh and vivid. He could almost feel the soft caress of her lips against his, the warmth of her body pressed close. It seemed tonight had brought far more than he had anticipated. "How much of that did you see?" Peter asked, though he already khe answer.

  "Enough," Tyson replied, a knowing smile spreading across his face. The single word hung heavily in the air between them, ripe with unspoken implications. His grin stretched wide as he remarked, "I would have preferred you told me yourself, but this is fine."

  Peter's heart stuttered in his chest, his palms growing cmmy where they gripped the railing. "You don't uand," he began, the familiar weight of his secret pressing down upon his chest.

  Tyson's uanding reply caught Peter off guard. "You're wrong, Pete. I might be the person in the world closest to uanding." Peter's eyes locked onto Tyson's, a silent question in his stare.

  The night air on the rooftop terrace seemed to shimmer for the briefest of moments as if reality itself wavered. Peter watched in awe as the image of the ed figure in a bck spandex suit and white fox mask, known to the city as Mirage, transposed itself over Tyson.

  Then the illusion fractured and fell away as quickly as it had e, leaving only Tyson once more, casually leaning against the terrace railing.

  "It's you," Peter said, his voice barely above a whisper. His fiightened on the etal of the railing, knuckles whitening.

  Tyson offered a slight nod, his eyes never leavier's. "I wondered how long it would take you to figure it out."

  Peter's mind reeled, thoughts spinning as he struggled to process this revetion. Tyson, one of his closest friends, was secretly the ed hero. How had he never realized it before? Peter found his voice again, though it cracked with emotion. "All this time, you were right there in front of me. Every news story, every sighting, it was you." He shook his head in disbelief. Realization crashed over Peter in waves as the pieces of a puzzle he hadn't even realized he'd been solving clicked into pce. The familiar voice, the size, the hair… How could he have missed it? "I knew your voice sounded familiar," Peter said, the ers of his mouth turning up in a grin to match the excitement and relief flooding through him.

  Tyson chuckled, the sound rich with unspoken aowledgment of shared burdens as unveiled. "Yeah, I was w if you'd figure it out," he quipped lightly.

  The distant wail of police sirens sliced through the night air, shattering the momeweeer and Tyson. The city's cry for help was impossible for Peter to ignore, his body tensing as the call to a ignited every fiber of his being. Tyson caught the subtle shift ier's stance, his eyes filled with uanding. "Guess that's your cue to leave?" he asked lightly, though it was less a question and more an aowledgment of the iable pull of responsibility… and maybe revenge.

  Peter he mantle of Spider-Maling around his shoulders once more. "Yeah," he replied simply.

  "Before you go, there's something I want you to see," Tyson said with seriousness edging his words. The dingy rooftop and the sounds of the restless city around them melted away as Tyson cast his illusion.

  In their pce appeared a se so familiar it tore at Peter's heart. He was ba the warmly lit dining room of his home, the aroma of one of Aunt May's home-cooked meals hangiingly in the air. Seated around the table were Tyson, Aunt May, and, impossibly, his te Uncle Ben.

  Peter's heart ched, his breath catg in his throat at the sight of his lost uncle.

  They appeared to be casually discussing Tyson's new internship, his voice light as he carefully skirted around the more extraordinary aspects. Aunt May, ever the g guardian, admohem both with love sparkling in her eyes. "You boys, always trying to do so much," she chided gently, her tone colored by affe.

  Then Uncle Ben, ever the source of grounded wisdom, turned his kind eyes on Tyson. "reciate you taking care of Peter," he said, his voice as warm and f as a summer breeze. "Keep taking care of those around you. We lift each other up - that's how we all succeed. And remember, success isn't just about what you aplish in your life, Tyson; it's about what you inspire others to do."

  As the edges began to blur and the illusion faded, Peter drank in every st detail, imprinting the se on his heart.

  "That was the st thing your uncle said to me before he died," Tyson fessed. Though his words were steady, they carried a heavy uone of emotion. His dark eyes locked onto Peter's. "Spider-Man isn't just some viginte. He's a bea. A symbol of hope. It's not all about your power. And it's not even about any responsibility you have to use it selflessly. What's important is that you're uplifting people through your as. You inspire hope in this city, hope that it sorely needs. Don't fet that, especially when you iably face the one who took your uncle."

  Tyson's words resonated withier, striking a chord deep in his chest. In the distance, sirens wailed, an insistent call. Tyson smiled slightly. "Now go do your thing, Spider-Man. I'll cover for you inside."

  Peter nodded. Gratitude fueled his limbs, and without another word, he vaulted over the baly railing, weling the tug of gravity as he pluoward the lights below. With a flick of his wrist, a strand of webbing shot out, anch itself to a nearby building. Peter swung upward, reveling in the familiar embrace of the night air. The city spread before him, its lights being him onward. Somewhere out there, a siren called.

  Spider-Man had work to do.

  — Rogue Rept —

  The Empire suite fell silent as the st of the guests took their leave, leaving Tyson and Felicia in the privacy of each other's pany. Felicia sashayed toward Tyson, a sm question burning in her eyes. "So, now that we're alone," she purred, allowing the words to liemptingly in the air between them, "what did you want to do?"

  Tyson exhaled, the sound heavy with unspoken meaning. Gently taking her hand, he led Felicia to the plush velvet couch. He answered, "We o talk."

  One eyebrow quirked upward, a pyful lilt c her voice, she said, "You know, when I say things like that, most guys don't suggest a heart-to-heart. But hey, I’m all ears if that's what you had in mind."

  A quiet ugh escaped Tyson, warm but tinged with a hint of nervousness. "I o be ho with you," he started, his eyes ear, "before things go any further between us."

  Felicia's demeanor shifted to one of geention as she nodded. "Alright, I’m listening. You're so serious... you’re not about to fess you're a serial killer or something, are you?" she teased lightly, trying to dispel the somber mood that had settled over them.

  Tyson's face sched as if he had just bitten into a lemon, and he released a weary sigh, steeling himself for the fession to e. "I guess I’ll start at the beginning," he ceded.

  Felicia patiently listened for his expnation, though she noted with a hint of that he hadn't outwardly refuted what she asked.

  Meanwhile, across the street in a nondescript office building, Natasha Romanoff and t Barton were hunched over a sole, headphones cmped over their ears. The space had been andeered by SHIELD and transformed into a temporary surveilnce hub. A sophisticated audio device captured every word spoken in Tyson's suite with crystal crity.

  Initially, they had been caught off guard when a teen uedly climbed up to the side of the Four Seasons to the same floor as the suite they observed. Their shock deepened as they iently discovered his secret identity as Peter Parker. Witnessing the reveal of his secret identity to Gwen and Tyson during their meal was yet another surprise. As the evening wore on, their i had wahe mundane versation seemed irrelevant to their mission. But now, Tyson's somber tone grabbed their attention once more.

  Natasha and t exged a silent look, unig their shared intrigue. Around them y the remnants of their hastily-ordered Boston Market turkey dinners, fotten in the gravity of the moment. Tyson's voice, den with solemn portent, filled their ears.

  "Here we go," t murmured, his ary quips absent.

  Natasha merely nodded, her expression unreadable. They settled in to listen ily. Whatever Tyson was about to disclose carried potentially profound implications. Not just for him and Felicia, but for everyone ensnared iricate web they were all unknowingly part of.

  The atmosphere in the room thied palpably as Tyson began his revetion, his voice steady despite the gravitas of his words. "There are people in this world, like myself, who are born different. We possess natural abilities, abilities some might call superpowers. You've witnessed what I do with illusions, so that part may not shock you over much. But you don't know about my true superpower, which is far more dangerous than my illusions."

  In their makeshift headquarters, Natasha's and t's expressions tightened. Every word from Tyson's lips was a vital piece of a puzzle.

  Felicia leaned forward, curiosity and mingled in her voice. "Is Spider-Man like you? What is your real power, then?"

  "Let's leave Spider-Man out of this for now. He's not like me. ly. He wasn't born with his powers, he got his from a radioactive… err, I meaically engineered spider's bite." Tyson inhaled deeply as if the words weighed heavy upon his tongue. "Whenever my skin es into tact with another, I begin leeg away their life force. Mere seds of touch with an ordinary person could leave them atose," he fessed, the burden of his reality almost palpable amidst the room's thied atmosphere. "That's why I wear gloves and long sleeves at all times."

  From her seat, Natasha could not restrain a soft gasp as the pieces fell into pce regarding Tyson's sistent attire and supposed 'skin dition' during their training sessions.

  Felicia's fusion in on her face as she tried to recile his words with her memories of their iions. "But you're not wearing gloves. We held hands whe down," she protested.

  "That wasn't my real hand," Tyson said sadly, his eyes downcast. "It was an illusion." His shoulders slumped uhe burden of this admission. The room grew still, the atmosphere thick with shared tension. "There's more to it. With those who have any kind of special powers, I temporarily gain their abilities, sometimes even taking on physical ges," he went on.

  Felicia's green eyes went wide. "So when you fought the Lizard on the bridge, that wasn't an illusion?"

  Tyson shook his head gravely. "hat was caught on camera. It was my first public appearance, but everyone dismissed the ge, seemingly fetting that my illusions couldn't be recorded. During the fight, when the Lizard sshed me, we made tact. I absorbed its traits and strength." His expression was somber. "None of that was an illusion."

  The temporary SHIELD base was quiet as t and Natasha reviewed the bridge footage, exging knowing looks. Tyson's story shed light on the discrepancies in his appearance. With eaew revetion about his strange gift, more questions arose in their minds. For now, their meal sat untouched as they analyzed this rare glimpse into the plexities of Tyson's abilities.

  Across the street, Tyson tinued his expnation to Felicia. "As I said, my power is unique," he went on, his eyes darkening with memories. "There's another powerful man obsessed with harnessing what I have. At the beginning of the summer, he sent someoer me, someoh powers of their own. Deadly cws and an almost instantaneous healing ability." From their vantage point across the street, t and Natasha leaned in, intrigued. "But he couldn't heal from my life absorption," Tyson said, his voice faltering as it was tinged with sorrow. "We fought, and I...I absorbed him pletely. I got his strength, his healing, his instincts, his enhanced senses. But I also got his memories. The ey of his long life, spanning nearly two turies. Permaly."

  Felicia's eyes went wide at this admission, and she drew in a sharp breath, holding it. "You...you killed him? And now you have his healing...and cws?" she asked. Her voice was barely a whisper in the face of the staggering implications.

  Without a word, Tyson slowly removed his glove. Metal cws slid out from his fiips with a sharp snikt sound that seemed to echo in the ensuing silence. "Not an illusion," he said solemnly. "This is all me."

  "Why are they metal?" Felicia asked after a moment, her curiosity beginning to battle with the shock.

  Tyson sighed heavily. The sound was den with memories he clearly wished he could fet. "My st school was for kids like me, kids with...abilities," he fessed quietly. "I had hoped to learn to trol my power there, but it never happened." His voice dropped to barely above a whisper, and Felicia sehe roiliions within him. His words were likely to reveal even more of his iurmoil.

  "The school was attacked by a military force," he reted, pain evident in his voice. "You have to realize, there were kids there, some just little ones...barely school-aged." He paused, old anguish etched on his face. "A few of the stroudents let me 'borrow' their powers. They ran, and I...I stayed. I fought." In their listening post across the street, Natasha's and t's expressions were grave as the tragic story unfolded before them, more plex than they could have anticipated. Tyson wasn't just an individual with abilities; he was a survivor, a warrior forced to make choio one his age should faatasha uood such impossible decisions all too well. Tyson's voice held both pain and pride as he reted the battle. "I held them back. Imagine. An army came to invade my school, and I fought them by myself. I don’t even know how many I killed during the fight. I just knew I had to stave them off as long as I could. To give everyoime to escape. And I did...until the powers I borrowed faded." His grin didn't reach his haunted eyes, shadows of memories best left unsaid lurking within. "I could hahe soldiers, but when they brought in their own supers...it was too much."

  Across the street, t and Natasha exged gnces speaking volumes. They both knew where the story was likely going.

  Tyson's voice grew darker as he reted his tale. "I was captured and experimented on by my ehey ced my bones with a rare metal called adamantium that is only moldable whe at extremely high temperatures. It was boiling whearted the procedure that melded it with my skeleton. It was the most excruciating pain I've ever felt." His hand ched into a fist, "O hardens, adamantium bees the stro known material, making me nearly iructible. But they didn't stop there with their cruel experiments on me," he tihrough gritted teeth. "They used a serum to trol my mind, turnio a tool, a on to serve their purposes."

  Across the street, t and Natasha exged sheir faces etched with . Though he left the details unsaid, the shadows haunting his eyes made it clear he had suffered unimagirauma and abuse when captured and transformed into an iructible living on.

  "But my friends, the ones I'd bought time for, they came bae. Led by my...ex-girlfriend," Tyson's voice softened for just a moment, the barest hint of vulnerability peeking through.

  When Tysoioned an ex-girlfriend, Felicia and Natasha's reairrored each other. "Ex-girlfriend?" Felicia remarked in disbelief, mouth agape, while Natasha silently mouthed the same words, curiosity spiking at this new personal detail. Disbelief and pyful teasing colored Felicia's voice as she now asked for crification, "So, your superhero ex led the cavalry to break you out of a military b? That's...a lot to take in." She exhaled sharply, half-joking, "Those are some big shoes to fill."

  Tyson's smirk was rueful, "You could say that," he replied simply. His expression was somber as he tinued. "During the escape, there was this psychic...they were using his powers for the brainwashing and harvesting the mind trol serum from his body. I didn't mean to, but when I touched him, he...he was too weak. I absorbed him. That's where the illusions e from."

  Natasha pursed her lips thoughtfully. Tyson's tale stirred memories of her own past, things best left unsaid. She studied him with new eyes, seeing the shared pain lurkih the surface. t shifted his weight, expressioral but his jaw tight. Some wounds went deeper than words could reach. Tyson's fession of his harrowing past had left t and Natasha silent as they processed the full extent of what he had endured.

  Tyson's gaze drifted across the interior of the Empire suite, a space he'd 'acquired' through less-than-ventional means. "After the breakout, I came back here to New York. This suite, Midtown High... it's all part of starting over," he fessed, the city lights casting long shadows over his thoughtful face.

  Felicia's curiosity was evident as she tilted her head, eyes glinting. "And your ex? What happened with her?" she inquired, seeking more details about the woman who had apparently led the effort to free Tyson from his captors.

  "She's in Asia now, studying," Tyson replied simply, old pain briefly shadowing his features at the mention of his former love.

  Felicia's lips curved into ahetic half-smile, her expression a mix of uanding and passion. Given all that he had endured, she could grasp why he was driven to stand against a crime lord like Fisk. "I get it now. After what you've faced, going up against a crime lord, it's...it's nothing," she said softly.

  The weight of his past was visible in the slump of Tyson's broad shoulders as he shrugged. "I needed you to know, Felicia. Before we... if we... tihis retionship." He struggled to find the right words, then finally blurted out, "To answer your question, I'm no serial killer, but sometimes it feels like I'm not far off." His muscur hands ched into fists, the ghost of tless lives he had taken during the battle at the institute haunting his eyes.

  Realization dawned on Felicia's delicate features. She whispered, "You absorbed some of their memories and remember parts of their lives."

  "Yeah," Tyson admitted heavily, his deep voice den with regret. "And it's messed up. They weren't all bad people, just following orders... caught up iuation, same as me."

  Felicia's slender hand found Tyson's. "You were just trying to survive. You did what you had to do."

  Tyson looked down at their iwined fingers, an ironic smile toug his full lips. "This isn't really my hand, you know."

  "It feels real to me," Felicia murmured softly, her bright eyes locked onto their hands resting on the polished mahogany table.

  "It does to me too," Tyson admitted, meeting her ear gaze. "But I'm actually over there." He oward where he was seated in an armchair.

  From their surveilnce post, Natasha and t exged looks as the camera feed firmed Tyson's true location across the room. "That's...trippy," t decided, shaking his head in disbelief and making his sandy hair flutter.

  Natasha was already focused on the implications, "Fury o hear about this. All of it," she stated decisively, her voice low and husky.

  As the two experienced agents prepared their detailed report, in the penthouse suite not too far away, the two young people sat together in panionable silence, finding so shared truths. But the peaceful moment was shattered when Felicia suddenly screamed in arm.

  "What!"

  After Tyson casually mentioned as an afterthought, "Oh yeah, and I stole a bunch of gold from the Federal Reserve."

  — Rogue Rept —

  Tony Stark's seaside mansion g to the cliffs overlooking the Pacific O like a futuristic acropolis, all smooth lines and expansive windows that gave the impressioructure had been carved itself. The interior matched the sleek exterior, full of high ceilings, minimalist decor, and advaeology. Dim track lighting flickered on as Tony Stark ehrowing irregur pools of light across the polished surfaces.

  "Jarvis?" Tony called out, pocketing his suhe familiar artificial intelligence responded. Its crisp at emanated from unseen speakers.

  "Wele home, sir..."

  But the senterailed off uncharacteristically. The sudden silence raised the hairs on the back of Tony's neck.

  A lone figure stood silhouetted against the floor-to-ceiling windows, the endless expanse of the Pacific spreading out behind him. He held himself with a rexed yet anding posture, his gaze fixed on the horizon. The st fiery rays of the setting sun cast him in dramatic silhouette, throwing his features into shadowed relief. Whoever he was, he clearly wasn't supposed to be here.

  The moment was interrupted by the intruder's deep, resonant voice. "I. Am. Iron Man." the figure said, punctuating every word, eg Tony's iic decration to the world. To a sense of apprehension stir within him. The man tinued without turning around, "You think you're the only superhero in the world?" His tone was matter-of-fact yet carried an underlyi that gave Tony pause. "Mr. Stark, you've bee part of a bigger universe. You just don't know it yet."

  Slowly, the figure turo face Tony, the movement somehow ominous. As the shadows receded from the man's face, Tony took in the eye patch, the stern demeanor, and the dark dramatic coat that added to his formidable presence. His steady gaze was fixed on Tony, sizing him up. "As if Gamma acts, radioactive bug bites, and assorted mutants weren't enough," the man tinued, his voice sharp, "I have to deal with a spoiled brat who doesn't py well with others and wants to keep all his toys to himself." The words were a clear challeo Tony's indepe style of operating.

  Tony's initial surprise shifted to his characteristic bravado in the face of frontation. "Who the hell are you?" he demaaking a step forward, eyes narrowing as he analyzed this ued intruder in his personal space.

  "Nick Fury," the man replied, unfazed by Tony's p. "Director of SHIELD." His voice held the unmistakable authority of someone expeg to be listeo and obeyed. This Nick Fury had clearly e with a purpose. His words would reveal the reason for this destine visit.

  "I'm here to talk to you about the Avenger Initiative."

  Behind the ses

  - The st se is the post-credit se from Iron Man 1. The part about gamma acts, radioactive bug bites, and mutants was from a deleted se released at the Saturn Awards in 2019