Date: Wednesday, December 15, 2010.

  Location: Chikara Dojo, Manhattan, New York

  Tyson shifted fluidly into anhting stahe long wooden shaft of the spear gliding smoothly through the air with a swoosh as he moved. With no beginner css today, he had been thrust into interaining uhe watchful eye of Sensei Colleen who was assisted by the relentless drilling of Natalie.

  When he'd started practig with the spear, the o fn in his hands. Its length and bance dictated a different rhythm of movement than what Tyson was aced to. Yet he could not deny the adva granted with its extended read long shaft, allowing both defense and attack simultaneously.

  "And...rex," Colleen finally announced, signaling the clusion of that day's training session. Tyson exhaled deeply as he returhe spear to the ra the wall.

  "Yetting the hang of it," Natalie noted approvingly. Her tone was friendly but with an uone of challehat perpetually lingered between them.

  "Thanks," Tyson replied appreciatively, wiping the sweat from his face. "Not sure when I'd ever use a spear, but it's good to learn."

  As they walked out of the training area, Natalie casually threw a slender arm around his shoulder. "So, hungry? We could grab a bite together. Unless," she added teasingly with a grin, "your phone-girlfriend might have objes? Or maybe you're saving your appetite for another 'research session' with Felicia?"

  He chuckled while shaking his head in amusement. "First, the girl on the phoill isn't my girlfriend. Sed, even if we did go on a date, Felicia and I arely exclusive. She's more of a free spirit, it's not really her style."

  "Ah, lucky you," Natalie joked, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "So, want to get some food then?"

  "Yeah, food sounds great," Tyson agreed readily.

  Rather than walking to a nearby restaurant as he had anticipated, she led him io his own motorcycle, ing to a stop beside the sleek bck bike. Tyson's eyebrow arched upwards as a grin spread across his face, realizing Natalie's true iion. This was an ued turn of events. She stood fidently o the motorcycle, one haended demandingly for the keys, aed gleam in her emerald eyes. Her lips curved into a daring smile as she asked, "Do you mind if we go back to your pce first to freshen up?"

  Amusement colored Tyson's tone as he dropped the keys into her waiting palm, the metal warm from being in his pocket. "Alright, I'm staying at the Four Seasons Downtown."

  With athletic grace that spoke of familiarity, Natalie swung her leg over the motorcycle, the movement fluid and practiced. She settled onto the leather seat, posture shifting as she leaned forward entigly, back arg in a subtle but alluring dispy of fidehat did not go unnoticed by Tyson.

  Taking a steadying breath, he moved to join her on the bike, the mae rumbling idly beh them. As he swung his leg over the seat, he became acutely aware of their close proximity, of how he had to lean into her slender frame. His chest pressed gently against her back, his arms ing around her waist in an intimate embrace. The engine roared to life with a low, thrilling rumble. Natalie revved it eagerly, the throaty growl a clear signal she had no iions of taking it slow. Her hair, just inches from Tyson's face, held that same sweet st of exotic spices from when they had first met, though the traces of gunpowder had faded slightly. And as the motorcycle lurched forward, he had no choice but to hold oighter.

  The city lights streaked past in a blur as Natalie expertly navigated the motorcycle through the streets. The cool night air was a sharp trast to the warmth radiating from Tyson's chest pressed against her back. Every tilt and turn of the bike pushed their bodies clether, the position far more intimate than what would normally occur between a "teacher" and "student".

  Tyson could feel the steady beat of her heart against his chest over the throaty rumble of the ehe thrill of the ride and the allure of the woman in trol of the motorcycle, coupled with the lingering sweet st of exotic spices in her hair, left him intoxicated. As they rode, the rest of the world faded away until it was reduced to just the space between their forms.

  The rumbling engine died down as Natalie turhe key and brought them to a stop. Tyso a mix of exhiration from the ride warring with a growing sense of apprehension now that they had arrived at his apartment building. Natalie's fident strides as she led them unerringly through the opulent lobby and straight to the elevator did nothing to ease his caution. Her casual ent about the extravagance of the ply heightened his . They asded in the elevator, and Tysoally hat he hadn't told Natalie which floor he lived o she had pressed the button for the top floor without hesitation. The sleek doors slid open to reveal the familiar hallway leading to the Empire suite where he was staying. Natalie's casual ease and familiarity with the building did little to calm the worry brewing in Tyson's chest.

  "Top floor, fancy," Natalie remarked as she sauntered into the expansive Empire suite, her gaze sweeping appreciatively over the luxurious furnishings. A small smile pyed on her lips. "This has to be one of the rooms in Manhattan. It's bigger than most of the apartments I've seen...at least double the size of mine."

  Though her words were innocuous, Tyson knew better than to let down his guard. Natalie's true motives were obscured beh yers of casual charm. When she leaned in, her breath a whisper against his skin as she boldly took in his st, Tysohe temperature in the room rise several degrees. Her proximity invaded his personal space, but her approach was nont as she observed, "All that work with the spear and you didn’t seem to sweat much... Now that I think about it, I’ve never seen you work up a sweat in the dojo or during css." A pyful challenge crossed her eyes. "But still, it's your pce, you should shower first."

  "If you insist," Tyson replied evenly, betraying none of the whirlwind of suspis swirling through his mind. "Do you have a set of clothes? If not you call the cierge and ask for some from the boutique downstairs. Just charge it to the room, it's fine."

  Tyson jured an illusion of himself heading to the bathroom, but remained invisible himself, as he watched Natalie, waiting for her move. But to his surprise, she simply picked up the phone and dialed the hotel cierge. She made dinner reservations and gave her measurements for a dress... so normal, yet nothing about this situation was normal.

  His illusion tinued in the shower, but Tyson's real focus was on Natalie. He half-expected her to start a thh search of his pce or pnt hidden bugs to gain ihe moment his 'shower' bega, she didn’t. She simply waited on the couch with a rexed but alert posture.

  Curious but reassured by her ck of overt snooping, Tyson uhe veil of illusioo the bathroom a his illusion fade as he genuinely started to rinse off in the shower. The warm water was a wele sensation, grounding him as he tried to figure out Natalie’s angle.

  Why was she here? What was the purpose? Tyson mulled over the possibilities as the water cascaded over his muscur frame. Nat was an enigma, her motivations unclear despite their growing rapport over the past weeks.

  Tyson emerged from the bathroom ed in a towel, wisps of steam curling out behind him. His muscles still glistened from the shower as he stepped into the living room. Natasha erched on the sofa, a box taining a bck dress had already arrived and was sitting beside her. She looked up at him with a sly smile pying on her full lips.

  "My turn," she purred, rising gracefully from the coud sauntering past Tyson towards the bathroom. Her hips swayed entigly as she walked. Tyson watched her disappear into the bathroom, the door clig shut behind her.

  Alone again, Tyson's mind raced as he quickly dressed. What game was the Bck Widow pying? Her motivations were as inscrutable as ever despite their growing rapport over the past few weeks. He found himself inexplicably drawn to the enigmatic spy, w if this was some kind of test. The rules of whatever game she ying were unclear, but Tyson knew better than to uimate Natasha. She was as dangerous as she was alluring. He would have to stay alert if he wao keep up with the uable woman currently using his shower. Tyson straightened his shirt, steeling his nerves for whatever curveball Natasha would throw at him .

  — Rogue Rept —

  Natasha was an undeniable presence as she and Tysoered the restaurant. The elegantly uated interior was an enestled in the lower level of the five-star hotel, its sophisticated ambiance whispered between those seated at shadowed booths and intimately lit ers. Low versation and the occasional chime of utensils orchestrated the mood.

  Fresh from her shower, Natasha's hair cascaded in soft waves that caught the ambient light, framing her fa a gentle halo. The bck dress she wore traced her form with subtle allure, promising everything and nothing all at o was the embodiment of elegaantaliziasteful. Her only ador air of glinting silver earrings that pyed peek-a-boo amidst the tresses at her neck.

  Tyson's world narrowed to the vision before him. "You look...incredible," he breathed, the truth of it id bare in each word.

  "And you, Tyson, up very nicely," Natasha returhere was an unspoken mystery in her words that Tyson found himself ag to unravel.

  Their table was a secluded alcove, a world unto itself. As they were seated, the outside world seemed to blur at the edges, the murmurs of other diners fading into meaningless background noise.

  The waitress glided up to their table, her movements smooth and practiced. "May I see some identification?" she asked pleasantly, though her eyes were sharp as they flicked between Tyson and Natasha.

  With a slight flexing of his will, Tysoed his power, his ID shifted, the numbers rearranging themselves to an age appropriate for the wine list. He ha over with a polite smile.

  The waitress g over briefly before nodding and heading for the celr. Natasha's eyebrows ticked up as she caught sight of the altered ID. "Is that a fake?" she murmured uhe pretense of adjusting her napkin.

  "Yeah, of course," Tyson muttered back.

  The waitress returned hefting a bottle in a bucket of ice. Deft fingers freed the cork with a soft pop, releasing the rich, earthy st of an aged red. She poured them each a generous gss, the wine as dark and vibrant as living blood.

  Natasha lifted her gss, closing her eyes as she ihe wine's plexity. She took an appreciative sip, holding it oongue before swallowing slowly.

  Tyson followed suit. Hints of dark cherry and oak mingled with notes of spid chocote. "Wow," he managed after a moment, uo find more eloquent words.

  Natasha's voice was low and thrilling. "It tells a story, doesn't it?"

  Tyson and Natasha waded through the preamble of their meal, trading words in a delicate verbal dance of feints and parries. Aridercurrent of anticipation hummed beh their mundane small talk, building with each smile and shared gnatasha's eyes sparkled with curiosity, "So, spill the beans," she urged. "Your date with Felicia. I basically pyed matchmaker between you two. You owe me all the juicy details!"

  Tyson raised an eyebrow, the er of his mouth twitg upward into a crooked grin. "Usually talking about irls isn't my go-to move on a...well, on an outing like this one."

  Natasha waved a hand dismissively, her grin unwavering. "Oh, please. This is an exception to the rule, remember? I'm dying to know what happened."

  A full grin spread across Tyson's face as he leaned ba his chair. "Well, it's not the blockbuster you're probably hoping for. We hit up a edy club, shared some ughs over drinks, then just hung out at my pce afterwards to talk."

  Natasha blinked, leaning ba surprise with a pyful roll of her eyes. "Talked?" she echoed, her tone rich with skepticism. "That's it?!"

  Tyson nodded affirmatively, an i expression painted across his features. "Yep, just talked. Got to know each other better."

  Natasha let out an exaggerated sigh. "Ugh, you're no fun. Here I was hoping for some juicy details." She wi him, taking a sip of her wine.

  Tyson chuckled, shaking his head. "Sorry to disappoint."

  The waitress returo the edge of their isoted table, a discreet presence h just outside the sphere of their charged focus. "Are you ready to order?" she inquired, momentarily tugging their attention back to reality.

  Natasha's emerald eyes remained locked on Tyson's as she responded, "The seared scallops to start, please. And the filet mignon, medium-rare, for the main course."

  Tyson found himself pg his order without thought, his attention firmly snared by womaed before him. "I'll have the wild mushroom risotto," he heard himself say distantly.

  As the waitress retreated, Natasha's smile widened, deepening the alluring dimples in her cheeks. Tyson was surprised to find himself feeling pletely at ease despite the charged energy arg between them. Laughter bubbled up unbiddeweewo of them, as natural as if they had known each other for years instead of mere weeks. Her smile was iious, her vivacious energy captivating in a way he found difficult to define.

  As they chatted, the waitress refilled their gsses with the rich, red wiasha had been praising sihe first sip. "Isn't it fantastic?" she excimed, taking a generous sip. "Full-bodied, perfect finish...It's rich, plex... like a good man."

  Tyson s her ent but wondered if it had a deeper meaning. Though the alcohol had no effect thanks to his supernatural metabolism, Tyson pyed along, sipping his wine and plimenting its fvor. He noticed, however, the subtle shift in Natasha's demeanor as she drank. Her ughter came more frequently, her movements more fluid and rexed, and her casual touches lingered a heartbeat lohan before.

  The versation drifted from light teasing to shared stories, with Natasha artfully guiding their verbal dance. She leaned in closer, her voice a touch softer as she asked, "So, Tyson, ever done something utterly wild?"

  He ughed heartily at that, the sound rumbling up from his broad chest. "Does riding through the city while holding onto a beautiful woman on a motorcycle t?"

  "Maybe for the opening se," she retorted with a tipsy giggle, her eyes bright with mirth.

  Tyso himself getting pulled deeper into Natasha's irresistible orbit. She, in turn, seemed genuinely ied in learning more about him. Her insightful questions pushed him to reveal more than he usually would.

  As the evening progressed, an ued e grew betweeyson found an ease in her pany that surprised him. The charged energy arg between them was undeniable, and Tyson wondered what the rest of the night might bring.

  Tyson watched as the waitress cleared the dies from their table. As they stood, Natasha ughed again, the sound was light yet tinged with tipsiness. "We 't end this lovely evening just yet," she decred, hooking her arm through his with casual intimacy. "In fact, I have an idea for some after-dinertai."

  Intrigued, Tyson raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Do tell."

  Her lips curved into a mischievous smile. "Let's take this party back to your suite. But I have one request." She turo the waitress, her voice steady and clear despite the wine flowing through her veins. "Could you please have another bottle of this excellent vintage sent up to the Empire suite?"

  "Of course, ma'am," the waitress responded professionally, scribbling down the order on her pad as Tyso a generous tip oable.

  Natasha sauntered into the vish hotel suite, her heels clig softly against the hardwood floor. In her hands, she carried a bottle of wine and two gsses, the deep red liquid swirlily as she walked. She paused in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, a silhouette against the dazzling lights of the city sprawled out beh them. With a graceful twist, she turo face Tyson.

  "Ever pyed 'Truth or Strip,' Tyson?" she asked, her tone light, but her eyes held a challehat sent a thrill through him.

  He ughed, the sound ing out more nervous than he had intended. "'t say I have. How does it, uh, work?"

  "It's simple," she purred, her grin spreading. "I ask you a question. If you refuse to answer, you remove an article of clothing. Then it's your turn to ask me one." She took a few steps closer, her hips swaying. "But beware. I've never lost."

  Tyson swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "I believe it," he said. The game was a minefield, and they both k. Every question otential trap, easwer a tantalizing clue. But the thrill was irresistible. "Deal," he heard himself say.

  Natasha's smile widened as she poured the wih sure, deliberate motions, as if perf on a stage. She hayson a gss and raised her own in a silent toast before taking a sip. The rich fvor was a familiar anchor in the uable tide of the night ahead.

  "So, Tyson. First question," she purred, leaning back casually in her chair. " you speak any uages?" Though her tone was light, there was an unmistakable edge of curiosity in it.

  He tilted his head, sidering his response. "Russian, French, and German," he replied after a moment, trying to sound nont.

  Natasha's eyebrows arched appreciatively, a hint of intrigue seeping into her voice. "Iing choices. And quite impressive for someone ye."

  He accepted the pliment with a nod. "Your turn then. Same question."

  "I'm fluent in several," she answered, giving him a pyful wink. "French, Italian, Russian, and Latin."

  Tyson raised his eyebrows, impressed despite himself.

  The game was on.

  Natasha's gaze was unwavering as she tihe game, "Have you ever traveled outside of the Uates?" Though her tone was light, there was an unmistakable edge of curiosity in it.

  Tyso her eyes, finding something there he couldn't quite read. Instead of answering, he untied his tie a on the arm of the sofa. Natasha smiled triumphantly. Tyson raised an eyebrow and said, "Same question."

  "Yes, many times. I've visited almost every ti," she fessed, an array of unspoken adventures dang in her eyes.

  She leaned in closer, the st of her perfume mingling with the rich aroma of wine. "Ever skipped school, Tyson?" she asked with a pyful lilt in her voice.

  He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, at my st school. Took a little jaunt off campus during PE. Caused a...lot of problems."

  "Tsk, tsk," Natasha scolded pyfully, wagging her finger. "Good thing you didn't try that in my css."

  He grinned, "Wouldn't have dreamed of it. Now, do you have any siblings?"

  "I'm an only child," she answered softly, "But I had a girl that was like a sister to me," a shadow flickering across her face. "You seem to get the gist of the game," she said, shifting the mood with a challenging smile. "Ready to really dive in?"

  Tyson straightened, energized by her petitiveness. "Bring it on."

  Natasha leaned forward on the plush leather couch, her green eyes glinting with curiosity as she looked across the polished mahogany coffee table at Tysouring around at the luxurious penthouse suite with its floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering city lights below, she asked, "How you afford a pce like this?"

  Tyson's mouth quirked into a half-smile, the er tilted up in amusement. Instead of answering her question directly, he removed his tailored Armani suit jacket, the dark material sliding smoothly off his broad shoulders. He draped it carefully over the curved back of a nearby armchair.

  "Why did you suggest this 'date' tonight rather than previously?" he inquired, defleg her question with one of his own.

  "The college semester is over," Natasha expiug a strand of her long auburn hair behind one ear. "I'm officially not your student-teacher anymore."

  Realization dawned on Tysoiming and rationale making perfect sense. Quickly regaining her posure, she fired back, "Why did you trao Midtown?"

  "I had a... disagreement with the headmaster at my previous b school," Tyson admitted after a brief pause, his jaw tightening. "Did you idtown for your student teag assig or were you assig?" He emphasized the word 'assigned', his sharp eyes studying her ily as he asked.

  "It was assigo me," Natasha replied with a casual shrug, her fingers pying idly with a strand of hair. "Why are you so ied in learning martial arts skills at the dojo?" she tinued, deftly redireg the versation.

  "I lost several fights before moving to the city," he fessed pinly, a hard edge creeping into his voice at the memory. "I don't want to have to rely solely on my strength anymore. I o be skilled too." Her uanding ned him to tinue. His ued question, however, caught her off guard.

  "Where did you learn to fight?" Tyson asked.

  Rather than answer, Natasha reached up and delicately unhooked the earrings from her ears, pg them on the polished end table with a soft k. Tyson raised an eyebrow at her evasion.

  She smirked in response, pointing to his silk tie. "Accessories t in this game. You started it!"

  Natasha leaned forward, an evil smirk pying on her full lips. "Okay, Tyso's spice things up. Fuck, Marry, Kill. Your choices are me, Felicia, and the mystery girl on the phone."

  Tyson took a sharp breath, his hazel eyes widening for a moment before he let out a ugh, his broad shoulders rexing. "Going right for it, huh? Alright," he said, accepting the challenge. "Marry the girl on the phone because she’s sweet, cool, fun, aiful. Fuck Felicia because... well, she’s sexy and flexible." He pointed a fi Natasha. "And kill you because you asked a question like that."

  Natasha threw her head back, her long red hair casg down her back as she ughed genuinely, the sound light and musical. "That's a good answer," she admitted, taking a sip of the deep red wine in her gss, the tension from their earlier versation dissipating as the game took a lighter turn.

  "Okay, you y like that?" Tysoed, a satisfied grin spreading across his rugged face. "Fuck, Marry, Kill. Your choices are our resident supers. Green Goblin, Mirage, and Spider-Man."

  "Well, kill Green Goblin, that one’s easy," Natasha said with a dismissive wave of her manicured hand. She paused, her expression thoughtful as she bit her lower lip. "The other two are kind of tough," she mused, then decided, "Fuck Spider-Man, and marry Mirage." Her emerald eyes met Tyson's, a daring glint in them. "Who knows what Mirage could do with his power over illusions? It’d probably make a life together more iing. And bedding Spider-Man might be fun with those webs of his."

  Tyson chuckled, intrigued by her choices. "Kinky," he ented, referring to her Spider-Man reasoning.

  Tyson leaned ba his chair, regarding the red-haired woman across from him with amusement. Natasha's emerald eyes sparkled with mischief as she smirked, clearly enjoying their game of questions.

  "Have you ever itted a crime?" she asked, her voice low and sultry.

  "Yup," Tyson admitted without hesitation, taking a sip of his drink.

  Natasha's sculpted eyebrows rose delicately. "Oooh, a rule-breaker. What'd you do? Steal?"

  Tyso his gss down with a thunk, his expression wry. "That's another question. It's my turn now."

  Seeing her genuine curiosity, he relented with a chuckle. "Okay, yeah, I stole some stuff."

  Natasha leaned forward, her lithe body coiled with anticipation. "What'd you steal?"

  "A bunch of gold," Tyson fessed. He held up a hand before she could pepper him with more questions. "Alright, that's a three-part question. I get to ask three now."

  "Fair is fair," Natasha agreed, settling bato her seat.

  "Where were you born?" Tyson asked first, watg her ily.

  "Stalingrad, Soviet Union," she answered evenly, her at c the words.

  Tyson squinted, murmuring under his breath, "Soviet Union, not Russia." He leaned forward, steepling his fiogether. "What is your date of birth?"

  "December 3rd, 1984," came the prompt reply, apanied by a small, secretive smile.

  "Happy 26th birthday," Tyson said after some quick mental calcution, uo keep the surprise from his voice. "I didn't realize it was so ret."

  Natasha ined her head in thanks, raising her gss. "Must have been a te-life career ge," he ented.

  Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Late-life?" She poi him in a warning.

  Tyson held up his hands in a pg gesture. "I take it back, I take it back." He paused, sidering his st question carefully. "What's your full name?"

  Natasha hesitated, flict pyed across her delicate features. Tyson could see her weighing whether to answer or to strip and obscure her identity. At st, she seemed to e to a decision. "Natalia Alianovna Romanoff," she fessed quietly. "But I usually go by Natasha."

  Tyson's eyebrows rose. "Well, it's o make your acquaintanatasha."

  He could sehe subtle shift between them, an unspoken aowledgment of trust. Their lighthearted banter tinued, but beh it y new depths of intrigue and e.

  The warmth from the wine spread through Natasha, seemingly looseniongue and untying inhibitions. "So," she started, her voice low, eyes gleaming with a challenge, "you've stolen a lot of gold, and you've lost fights. Ever killed anyone?"

  A dark echo of his past reverberated through Tyson. He didn’t want to say it, not ht. Instead, he leaned down, slid off his shoes, ahem aside. "Just trying to maintain a bad boy aura of mystery," Tysoed in an attempt to lighten the heavihat settled in his chest.

  She snorted intss, amusement lighting her features. "Yeah, sure," she drawled, irely buying it but letting it slide.

  Grasping at trol, Tyson fired back, "Since you seemed hesitant to say your real name...exactly how many aliases have you used?"

  In response, Natasha reached down and slipped off her heels, pg them ly beside her chair. She shrugged gracefully, a mysterious smile pying on her lips. "I’ve lost t," she fessed.

  Her gaze locked with his, the challenge reinstated. "When we were in the weight room, you easily lifted near-Olympic level weight. How strong are you exactly?" she asked, her eyes disseg him over the rim of her gss.

  The question hit a little closer to home than Tyson expected. He paused, his hands finding the edge of his shirt. With a calcuted nonce, he unbutto, revealing the form-fitting undershirt beh, muscles outlined against the fabric. "I don’t know the exaswer, I could only guess," he replied truthfully.

  Their eyes met and a silent uanding passed betweehey both had secrets, only some that they were willing to disclose. Tyson's question was ued in its simplicity yet profound in its implication. "Do you trust me?"

  It was a direct hit. Natasha felt the query like a physical blow. Trust wasn't a odity she traded in freely. The room felt warmer, the walls a tad closer. She reached back, ung the neckce she wore, and pced it gently on the end table o her.

  "Not ready to ahat," she said, her voice steady but softer, betraying a hint of vulnerability she hadn't inteo show.

  Their game, veiled i and pyful banter, had delved into an intricate dance around their defenses, each question and avoided answer revealing more than just the facts of their lives. It was a chess match of wits and resilience, where each piece removed shed light on who they were beh the facades they preseo the world.

  The game had ged, shedding the skin of casual pyfulo reveal a core of raw, unspoken truths. Each question robe, delicately pushing boundaries, and each item of clothing removed symbolized a yer of defense melting away.

  "Do you actually have a tagious skin dition?" Natasha asked, an echo of humor in her voice, refereng an earlier jest.

  "Skin dition… yes. tagious, no," Tyson responded with a half-smile.

  Tyson leaned forward, the glint in his eyes betraying a mix of mischief and curiosity that oorly cealed. "Sorry, but I'm going to step it up a little bit," he said. "I really like your dress, and it looks great on you, but I think it'd look better on the floor." A slight pause, and he asked, “How much of this is an act?"

  Natasha rose gracefully from her seat, the motion fluid like water flowing over smooth stones. She pulled up the hem of her dress just enough to grasp the cy top of her stogs, her fingers skimming across her own skin as she slowly rolled oog down the length of her leg. She repeated the sensual a with the , her eyes locked on Tysoire time to ensure he didn't miss a single moment of the show. "I'm good at blending roles ay," she practically purred, her voice a sultry hum. "But sometimes separating them isn’t so easy."

  Having discarded her stogs, Natasha went on the offensive. "How did you steal all that gold?" she asked casually as if inquiring about weekend pns rather than interrogating him about a heist. Tyson just shrugged, seeing where this line of questioning was headed. No words were spoken as he simply bent down to remove his socks, adding them to the growing pile of shed defenses between them.

  Tyson watched Natasha ily as she tinued sipping her wine, her gaze steady upon him. "Are you aware of what I do?" he asked, his question hanging in the air between them, charged with unspoken implications.

  "Yes," Natasha replied simply, her voice smooth and fident.

  Tyson leaned ba his chair, rubbing his thoughtfully. "Ambiguous answer," he pointed out, his eyes narrowing.

  Natasha's mouth ticked up in a half-smirk, the firelight catg her eyes and turning them molten gold. "Ambiguous question," she retorted, her tone coy yet challenging.

  Tyson nodded, a smile pying on his lips. "Fine. Redo?" he offered, a glint of excitement in his gaze at the thrill of this verbal sparring.

  Natasha ined her head in assent, knowing that further specification would only aid her objectives. Tyson squared his shoulders, his expression growing more serious. "Are you aware of my superpowers?" he asked pinly.

  Meeting his inteare, Natasha lifted her wine gss and dowhe remaining ruby liquid in one smooth motion. She set the empty gss oable between them with a soft k, the sound eg in the quiet room. Raising her hand, she began ting off on her fingers as she listed in aone, "Life Abs Touch, Superhuman attributes, Adamantium skeleteion, Illusions."

  Each point seemed to punctuate the air between them with finality. Tyson shifted slightly, a shiver of vulnerability running through him as he realized they knew everything. It wasn’t pletely ued, but it was still slightly unwele, making him feel exposed.

  "Why doesn't anyone remember mutants?" she asked, her voice sharp.

  Tyson shifted unfortably in his chair as Natasha's question hung in the air betweehe weight of fotten histories and erased truths pressed down on him. He reached for the hem of his shirt and peeled it off in one smooth motion, the defined muscles of his chest and abs rippling in the dim light. Tyson saw Natasha's eyes flick down briefly, a hint of appreciation in her gaze before she quirked one sculpted eyebrow upward.

  "Really?" she said, a note of dry amusement ione.

  "It's a long story," Tyson rumbled, his deep voice eg slightly in the quiet room. "Maybe aime."

  Their eyes locked, green on green and blue. An unspoken uanding passed betweewo spies; this was more than just a game. Their verbal sparring, the give and take of revetions and evasions, was an intricate dance. Each step brought them closer to...something. What, exactly, Tyson wasn't sure, but the potential thrilled and unnerved him.

  Tyson shifted again under Natasha's steady gaze, feeling exposed in more ways than one. "I've been careful about the life absorption," he said slowly. "But the adamantium skeleton is pretty specififo. Either you got your hands on some cssified dots, or..." He let the senterail off meaningfully. Natasha's smile widened fraally, though the expression didn't reach her eyes. Tyson pressed on, "Since Alkali Lake is uer… Yeah, that's a freebie for you… I'm guessing you've been monit me somehow. I want to know how you're trag me and what your setup is."

  Natasha said nothing, merely rising from her seat with a sinuous grace. Tyson's eyes widened slightly in anticipation, but she did not remove her dress as expected. Instead, her fingers deftly uncsped her bra, the motion smooth with practice. She slid the straps dow a time, holding Tyson's gaze all the while, challenging him, teasing him. With agonizing slowness, she pulled the bra up through the front of her dress a fall fotten to the floor.

  The temperature of the room seemed to climb several degrees. Natasha's allure was not just in what she had revealed, but in what remained hidden. The outline of her nipples was visible through the thin fabric of her dress, and Tyson could not tear his eyes away.

  Natasha fixed Tyson with an intense gaze, her voice steady but probing as she asked, "You coordinated with Spider-Man to fight Green Goblin and save civilians during the Parade i. Are you willing to work with others to stop threats beyond what the normal authorities handle?"

  Tyson did not hesitate. His vi was clear as he answered simply, "Yes, within reason." The response was straightforward, but it veyed the depth of his itment, a willio stand for more than just himself.

  Tyson quirked an eyebrow, his tone pyful yet underid with seriousness as he questioned, "Is this your recruitment pitch? Or is this?" He gestured at her alluring appearahe thin fabric of her dress outlining her nipples, barely cealing her assets. Tyson found it hard to tear his eyes away.

  "Yes," Natasha replied lightly, not indig which of Tyson's questions she referred to. "Is it w?"

  Tyson looked beyond the teacher, the spy, the seductress, and saw a woman who uood the weight of the world, the shades of gray in their roles.

  "Yes," Tyson said. It was more than just accepting a pitch. It was aowledging the e they fed in a game that started as prete ended with the promise of something greater.

  The husky timbre of Natasha's voice pulled Tyson abruptly from the depths of their intense e. Her sudden shift bato her pseudo-drunken facade was jarring, and Tyson realized with some disappoihat the intriguing game between them had e to an end. Though he couldn't recall exactly when she had dropped the aow that it was ba pce, the difference was obvious. An ued pang of longing caught him off guard, an urge for their dance of pretense and promise to tinue.

  "Wow, it's starting to get te, and I'm a bit tired. I think I might have had too much to drink; I should head home," Natasha announced breezily, her words not quite lining up with the sharp intellect Tyson glimpsed behind her smoky gaze.

  creased Tyson's brow as he pyed along, masking his reluce to end their evening. "Hey, you don't have to leave right away. You stay the night. I'll take the couch, or I could drive you back if you prefer?" he offered politely.

  Natasha shook her head, the motioing her silken locks swayily across her shoulders. A small, distant smile curved her full lips as she deed his offer. "Don't worry about me. The hotel has security, and I'll just catch a cab."

  She turoward the door, hips swaying with casual grace, her movement showing no signs of the intoxication she cimed. But halfway across the room, she paused, gaze caught by the terrarium in the er. A puzzled expression flickered across her fiures.

  "Okay, one more before I go," she decred, manicured finger pointing at the gss enclosure. "Why do you have ay terrarium?"

  Tyson's lips curved into a sly grin, uo resist the opportunity to intrigue her further. "It isy."

  Curiosity piqued, Natasha stepped closer, keen eyes peering into the gss. Amidst the artfully arraerrain was a web, and upon it resided a single vivid spider. Its colors fshed like jewels against the stark background, bright spshes of sapphire and ruby, in what first appeared a desote tainer.

  "Huh," she murmured, more to herself than Tyson, a small furrow of tratioing her smooth brow as she studied the araid.

  Natasha halted iracks toward the door when Tyson called out, "Wait, it's only fair that I get one back." sideri question had been innocuous, he mirrored her lightness, though his voice still held remnants of their earlier pyful banter. "Was this just work for you, or did you enjoy the date?"

  She stood motionless for a heartbeat, two, the tension in the room rising. Then, in one fluid, seductive movement that spoke volumes of her fidend trol, Natasha reached under her dress and shimmied out of her panties, letting the cy garment drop and pool around her heels. She stepped out of them with the grace of a dayson swore the outline of her nipples pressed even more evidently against the silky fabric of her dress. He couldn't deny the deliberate sensuality in her as. Her movements weren't just sexy; they were a statement, a challenge, and an invitation all at once.

  Turning to face Tyson, her emerald eyes locked with his. His gaze smoldered with desire as it raked over her body. The air between them grew thid charged with the weight of the unspoken words and shared experiences of their evening together.

  Without breaking eye taatasha reached for Tyson's suit jacket draped over a chair and slipped it over her bare shoulders. She held his gaze a moment lohe lingering look full of promise that this was not the end. Theurned ahe suite, the door closing softly behind her.

  Tyson stood alone in the quiet hotel suite, his thoughts swirling as the lingering st of Natasha's perfume teased his senses. Her dergarments lying discarded on the floor were evidence of the passion that had ignited between them and still smoldered within him, but the sharp trill of his cell phone shattered those thoughts. Gng at the caller ID, Tyson arched an eyebrow in mild surprise to see Peter's name. sidering the te hour, he k had to be important.

  "Hey, Peter. What's up?" Tyson aimed for a casual tone, but the residual energy from the evening tinged his words.

  "Tyson! Oh man, it's bad. Real bad," Peter's panicked words tumbled out in a frantic rush. Even through the phohe fear in his voice alpable.

  "Whoa, breathe Pete. Slow down and tell me what happened," Tyson said steadily, hoping to calm Peter's freate.

  "It's the Green Gobliacked Aunt May at home, then took MJ, took Mary Jane!" Peter's words seemed to cause him physical pain, his voice crag with emotion.

  A cold dread pierced through the lingeri of Tyson's earlier passions. "Where are they now? Do you know?"

  "The Queensbore. He took her to the Queensbore," desperation tinged Peter's words, the location spilling out like a plea.

  Tyson sidered it for a moment. The Queensbore sat half Manhatta Side. Even speeding, it would take a good twenty mio get there from the hotel.

  But Tyson also khe broader text from his meta-knowledge. This was the battle where Spider-Man tried to save both Mary Jane and the civilians on the bridge, nearly losing both in the process. With Tyson's help, the oute could be different.

  "I'm on my way. Meet me in the park by the Queens side of the bridge in half an hour," Tyson said decisively. "Ae?" he added before his friend could hang up.

  "Yeah?" Peter's faint response was nearly lost in a strangled breath.

  "We'll get her bad stop the Goblin ond for all. Trust me." Tyson's words were more than just a promise. They were a decration.

  The call ended and Tyson sprang into a. There was no time for doubt or hesitation now. His friend needed him and i lives were at stake. As he donned his gear, his mind raced, strategizing, calg every possibility they might face against the Green Goblin. The vilin was uable and dangerous and now he'd made it personal for Peter. Tyson's heart pounded in his chest, no longer from the lingeriement of his enter with Natasha, but from the rush of the impending frontation...

  Natasha.

  She robably just leaving the building now. But he could use her help. This was more than just a call to a; it was a call to protect, tht a wrong, to be a hero. He rushed to the baly to see her standing on the sidewalk below...

  The icy air Natasha's skin as she stepped outside, the New York winter showing no mercy. The impulsive decision ba the suite, leaving her undergarments behind, now maed as a shiver that danced down her spiyson's jacket barely served as a barrier against the cold. Yet the thought of Tyson, possibly p the meaning behind her bold move, sparked a warm smile on her lips.

  However, her amusement was short-lived, as she heard her name being called. Turning, she saw Tyson emerging from the building, urgency had repced the pyfulness on his face.

  "Miss me already?" she asked lightly, though her teasing tone did not fully mask the surprise in her voice.

  Tyson's smile was brief, not reag his eyes. "You know it," he replied, "I don't mean to ruin the appeal of your exit, but I've got an important question for you."

  Natasha arched an eyebrow. "You asked the st one. If you want another, it's going to cost you." Their banter flowed easily betweehough she sehe gravity behind his mood.

  He chuckled, "You have my pants, but this is serious."

  Reading the tension in his stanatasha nodded. "Go ahead then," she prompted, steel entering her voi respoo his urgency.

  "Hypothetically," he began, his words pierg the frosty winter air, "if I could capture the Green Goblin, would you have access to a cell that could hold him?"

  Natasha's mind raced, sidering the problem. The Green Goblin was no ordinary criminal. With his strength and teology, holding him would require more than just a reinforced cell. It would o be an off-the-grid facility, secure and imperable.

  "ces designed for enhanced individuals," she replied carefully, "Not public, but as secure as they e."

  Tyson's taut jaw softened slightly as he nodded. "Good. I o know he won't just end up ba the streets."

  Uanding lit Natasha's eyes. This was not hypothetical. "He won't," she stated firmly, steel sheathed i. "We'll make sure of it."

  The briefest moment of relief washed over Tyson's features before the mask of determinatioled across his face. With a grateful nod to Natasha, he removed his pants and casually tossed them in her dire. Natasha reflexively raised her hands to catch the garment, but instead of fabric her fingers closed around a bouquet htly colored flowers. Looking up in surprise, she saw no sign of Tyson.

  Natasha heard the sounds of a motorcycle behind the hotel r to life before fading into the distance.

  She gazed down at the flowers cupped gently in her hands. She brushed her fiips across the soft petals, noting their vibrant colors and inhaling their sweet st.

  But even as she admired their beauty, the bouquet began to fade, petals withering and stems dissolving into sparkling motes of light. Soon nothing remained except the memory of their fragrand Tyson's retreating motorcycle, carrying him off into the night.

  — Rogue Rept —

  The distant lights of the city cast long shadows across Queensbridge Park, mingling with the oscilting reds and blues of the police closing the bridge. Tyson g the missed call from Jubilee on his phone before pocketing it, his focus solely on the crisis unfolding before him. The news of the Green Goblin's test antics had clearly spread, but talking to Jubes would have to wait. Right now, lives hung precariously in the bance.

  A sudden whoosh annouhe arrival of another as Spider-Man desded from the darkness above, nding with feline grace beside Tyson. "Mirage, thanks for ing," he said, his voice taut but steady.

  "Spider-Man," Tyson replied solemnly, his gaze i. "Good to see you. What's the situation?"

  Spider-Man took a deep breath befesturing toward the apex of the bridge. "Green Goblin's got MJ up there. He's holding a cable car loaded with people in one hand and Mary Jane iher," he expined, frustration seeping into his words. Tyson could see the tension in Spider-Man's posture, and could hear the carefully trolled anger simmerih the surface. This ersonal for the webslinger.

  Before he could tinue briefing Tyson ouation, Spider-Man's head suddenly so the side, preternaturally quick reflexes propelling his body away from the path of an oning spear. Caught off guard by the abrupt motion, Tyson did not have time to react. The spear sliced through the air, narrowly missing Spider-Man and burying itself into Tyson's torso with a meaty thunk instead. Tyson grunted more in surprise than pain as the spear failed to pee his adamantium skeleton, cttering uselessly to the pavement.

  As Tyson's skin knit itself back together, healing the superficial wound in seds, Spider-Man turo him, evident in his voice despite the cealing mask. "Are you okay?"

  Tyson ughed, "A goddamned spear... what are the odds?"

  His ughter died as his eyes locked onto the figure emerging from the shadows. He was well over six feet tall, his body carved from sbs of muscle that rippled and flexed with eaent. His very presence radiated danger, primal and unchecked. His garish outfit was a chaotic blend of animal prints and bohat ked softly as he moved. A mane of lion fur billowed around his shoulders despite the stillness of the night air. Skin-tight leopard print pants g to his powerful legs. He twirled the spear casually in one hand, a twin to the ohat had nearly skewered Tyson. Dark eyes, bck as night, watched them with the steady focus of a predatauging its prey.

  Tyson's meta-knowledge identified their assaint. But it provided no insight as to why he was here. What did he want with them? The man looked at them with the smug arrogance of a hunter who had never know. His lips twisted into a cruel smirk. Tyson tensed, ready to face whatever came . Beside him, Spider-Man's hands slowly curled into fists.

  "Ahh, Spider-Man, always a pleasure to disrupt your little heroics," Kraven sneered, his thick Svic at adding a sinister melody to his words that spoke of distant nds and untamed wilderness. "And yht a friend," the hunter's ptuous gaze slid over Tyson, taking in the hero's e and stance. "Mirage, yes? I've heard tales of you. I admit, I'm intrigued to see if you live up to the stories."

  Spider-Man shifted into a defeance, his muscles coiled and ready for a. "Kraven. To what do we owe the displeasure?" he bit out tersely.

  "I'm here for the ultimate hunt, of course," Kraven replied, his smirk widening with anticipation. "You've proven a worthy prey before, Spider-Man, but now, I'm ied in your friend." He gestured with his spear towards Mirage. "To see you heal from such a wound so quickly, makes me wonder if you'll be the greater challenge. A man who ot die is a prize any hunter would covet."

  Tyson bristled, irritation fshing through him. He couldn't believe Spider-Man had failed to mention he'd crossed paths with Kraven the Hunter. Keeping his voice low and dangerous, Mirage focused on Kraven. "You think you hunt me?"

  "Oh, I don't think, my friend," Kraven purred in response, clearly relishing the frontation. "I know. The hunt," he paused, sav the word, "is everything."

  Behind his mask, Tyson rolled his eyes. He said to Spider-Man, "We don't have time for this."

  With startling speed, the hunter lunged forward, his spear leading the way in a deadly arc toward Mirage. Mirage reached down, snatg up the discarded spear from the ground, in an a that was almost instinctual, and batted away the hunter's first stab.

  Kraven rose to his full imposi, a wild grin stretg his features as he too gripped his spear in anticipation. "The thrill of the hunt is time itself, my friend!" he decred. Like that, the two spears met with a resounding crack, and the duel began in ear.

  The spears collided with a ringing etal that echoed through the empty park. Kraven attacked first, lunging forward in a stabbing thrust, but Tyson parried it with ease and tered with a swipe that forced the huo jerk back out of the way. The spears wove patterns through the air as the two fighters circled and struck. Kraven was good. His movements had the oiled smoothness of long practice. He had honed his skills hunting prey far more dangerous than the average human. But Tyson was something else entirely. His motions spoke of interaining under masters like Colleen and Natasha. Tyson was a whirlwind, his attacks ing from ued angles, his defense as solid and unyielding as the adamantium g his bones.

  Kraven panted, giving ground before Tyson's onsught. "You fight well," he ceded. "But I have brought down far mightier prey than you, my friend!"

  "I'm not your prey," Tyson growled, voice low and deadly. He feinted left, then struck right like a thunderbolt.

  Kraven ughed, but the sound died in his throat as Tyson's spear suddenly sshed toward him. Kraven tried to dodge, but the on still grazed his side, tearing his tunid elig a pained grunt. The hunter did not falter, however. If anything, the wound only widened Kraven's grin, putting a mad light in his eyes. He attacked with renewed vigor, his movements a blur of motion that Tyson matched perfectly.

  But then Tyson stopped holding back.

  His speed increased drastically, driven by the o end this fight quickly. He deflected an overhead strike from Kraven and pivoted faster than the eye could follow, driving his foot into the hunter's chest. Kraven flew backward, the air exploding from his lungs as he crashed heavily to the ground.

  In the space of a heartbeat, Tyson stood over the downed hunter, Kraven's own spear now in his hand. Without hesitation, he plu downward. The spear tip split Kraven's leg boh a ing ch. Kraven howled in agony, his body spasming, but Tyson held him pinned with preternatural strength, meeting Kraven's pain-filled gaze with pitiless eyes.

  "Enough of this," Tyson growled. "We're done here."

  Kraven ughed, a grating, pain-ced sound. "You've bested me, Mirage. Not many cim that feat."

  Tyson crouched beside his fallehe exposed half of his face set in hard lines. "End your hunt, Kraven. Or I'll stuff you and mount you on my wall as a trophy."

  The threat only made Kraven ugh again, defiance bzing in his eyes despite the agony wrag his body. "I'll hunt you, Mirage. I'll hunt the Spider-Man. I'll hunt you all," he gasped.

  Jaw tightening, Tysoed the sed spear, testing its weight. With a fluid motion, he plu through Kraven's , pinning him fully to the earth. Kraven's scream echoed through the silent park. His body thrashed in agony, effectively crucified.

  Leaning in close, Tyson's whisper was dangerous. "e after me again, and I'll kill you. Go after Spider-Man, and I'll end you for that too. The Lizard..." He smirked cruelly. "I don't really care about him. Knock yourself out there. But if you've got a death wish, I'll see you in four to six months, after you finish physical therapy."

  Leaving Kraven pinned and howling, Tyson strode back to where Spider-Man stood tense, , and wariness etched in every line of his body.

  "Was that necessary?" Peter asked. His voice was tinged with worry for the brutalized hunter and Tyson's ruthlessness.

  Tyso Spider-Man's gaze unflingly. "Kraven aimed to kill. If I was normal, I'd be dead. He's lucky I didn't do the same." The air between them was charged, a moment of uanding passed between them, yet a subtle divide formed. They were on the same side in this fight, but their methods were worlds apart. "We've got bigger problems," Tyson finally said, breaking the tension as he owards the top of the bridge where the Green Goblin's maniacal ughter could still be heard, a haunting reminder of the madhey were up against.

  "Yeah," Spider-Man agreed, the word heavy with unspokeion as they both set their sights on the chaos above.

  Turning to Spider-Man, Mirage quickly outlined a strategy. "Okay, Spidey, here's the pn. I'll distract the Green Goblin. Once I have his attention, wait for my signal. Then you swing up and grab the people from the cable car. After that, we take the bad guy down."

  Peter's posture radiated disbelief. "Wait. That's it? That's the whole pn?"

  Tyso his skepticism with a level gaze, his face set with determination. "We already know my illusions work on him. So assuming nothing has ged, yeah, no problem. The fight's over before it begins. But," he tihe gravity of the situatioling around them like a heavy cloak, "if that's not the case, you'll have to save the cable car, and I'll have to save MJ. We 't do it the other way around. I don't have your aerial skills, and if my guess is right, you're probably strohan me, which makes you better suited to hahe weight of the cable car. This is our best py, either way."

  Spider-Man seemed to mull this over, the fabric around his eyes kling in thought. Tyson reassured, "Just give me a few mio draw him into an illusion. Watch for the signal, then head for the cable car," he said, iing more assurao his voice thaually felt.

  Spider-Man nodded. "Got it, Mirage. Just...be careful, okay?"

  Tyson couldn't help but smile slightly, despite the dire circumstances. "You too, bud." With no more time for discussion, they sprang into a.

  — Rogue Rept —

  The mad, twisted figure of the Green Goblin stood atop the Queensbore, his crazed ughter ringing out across the night like a discordant melody. Below him, Mary Jason squirmed helplessly in his iron grip, her face a mask of pure terror. In his other hand, the Goblihe suspending cable of a passenger-filled cable car, leaving it to serilously over the dark waters below.

  "The itsy bitsy spider climbed up the water spout," the Goblin sang out in his haunting, deranged voice. "Down came the goblin and wiped the spider out!" His chilling cackle sliced through the air, a testament to his fractured mind.

  Unseen by the Goblin, Tyson had scaled the bridge's metal skeleton, weaving an illusion to shield himself from dete. He moved in utter sileno souraying his preseno st drifted on the wind, no image revealed his form to any watg eyes. Tyson was a ghost, stealthily climbing with purpose toward the supervilin above.

  Reag a position just behind Mary Jane and the Green Goblin, Tyson sparked a brilliant firework high in the night sky with his powers, a blooming flower of radiant light. His illusion es fre remained hidden from the Goblin's view, the fshing colors serving as a silent signal through the darko Spider-Man.

  With the precision and grace that had captured New York's heart, Spider-Man swung into a. His lithe form was a red and blue blur against the city lights as he darted toward the dangling cable car. One by one, with reassuring whispers and steady hands, he ferried the passengers from their aerial prison to the safety of the bridge below. All the while, Tyson's illusions were meticulous, ensuring the Goblin perceived no ge, no flicker of movement, no lightening of his load. The passengers could only stare in stunned relief as the masked hero deposited them gently onto solid ground before disappearing once more into the night sky.

  As soon as the st of the cable car's octs were safe, Spider-Man catapulted himself upwards, a thin line of silk trailing behind him. He asded the bridge with effortless agility to face the cag menace waiting atop the towers.

  The moment he began his approach, Tyso a portion of the veil of illusion fall away. The Green Goblin's maniacal grin twisted further as he bellowed, "Spider-Man! This is why only fools are heroes. Because you never know when some lunatic will e along with a sadistic choice!" Spider-Man's stance was resolute, even as the Goblin's madness swirled around them like a malevolent storm. "The woman you love." The Green Goblin lifted Mary Jane higher and she screamed and kicked, causing her slippers to fall off her feet in an eerie preview of her fate. "Or suffer the little children."

  The Green Goblin looked at the cable car and could see the struggling citizens iheir screams of "Spider-Man, help us!" and "Save us!" were music to his ears. The maniatinued, "Make your choice, Spider-Man, and see how a hero is rewarded."

  Still invisible, Tyso forward until he was immediately behind the Green Goblin.

  "Don't do it, Goblin," Spider-Maed, the determination in his voice a stark trast to the vilin's insanity.

  The Green Goblin stood triumphantly, the madness in his eyes bzing like wildfire. "We are who we choose to be," he procimed, his voice a twisted symphony of chaos and delight. And then, he did the unthinkable. He released both the cable and Mary Jane, his maniacal ughter booming, "Now, choose!"

  Time seemed to stand still as Mary Jane and the cable car, one a symbol of Peter's life and the other representing his responsibilities, plummeted towards the river below. The Goblin, ed by his insanity, rushed to the edge, his eyes gleaming with anticipation of Spider-Man's despair. He watched as Spider-Man's figure dove with incredible speed, snatg Mary Jane from the air in a heroic rescue before swinging in a heart-stopping arc toward the free-falling cable car. The Goblin's ughter echoed into the night, certain of his victory and Spider-Man's impending loss.

  The wind whipped past Spider-Man's ears as he pushed his body to its limits, desperate to save both Mary Jane and the i people in the cable car. He reached out and grabbed her, pulliightly against him as he swung them around the underside of the bridge. With split-sed timing, he shot a web and ged dire, arg towards the plummeting cable car. Screams echoed up from below as it rapidly approached the unfiving river. Calling on every ounce of strength, Spider-Man shot a web and she car, using all his strength to hold it. The sudden stop wrenched his shoulders, but he held on, dangling with one arm on a webliached to the bridge, the other holding the cable car, and MJ ging to his neck.

  The Goblin watched in disbelief as Spider-Man somehow mao save them both.

  But it was all an illusion, a trick jured by Mirage. Spider-Man had woven the car in spider silk before the Goblin ever released the lihe car hung suspended and safe.

  With the Goblin's attention on the illusion of the plummeting car, the real Spider-Man moved. He burst into motion, swinging toward the Goblin, Mirage, and Mary Jane high on the bridge. At the same moment, Mirage reached out, snatg Mary Jane around the waist and pulling her from gravity's grasp just as the Goblin released her.

  Instead of falling to her death, Tyson held Mary Jane securely in his arms.

  Spider-Man reached them just as the Green Goblin cackled triumphantly over the edge, watg as the illusion of the hero tried to save the girl. Spider-Man ighe vilin, rushing io Tyson's side. Tyson passed the shaken Mary Jao Spider-Man's arms. The ed Peter gathered her close and leaped, firing a weblihat whisked them away from the bridge and the Green Goblin.

  Tyson turned his focus back to the Goblin, who was still engrossed in the illusory se pying out below the bridge. Tyson studied him closely, taking in every detail of the vilin's bizarre, armored suit and the insane delight on his grotesque features. This was Norman Osborn, twisted by sto something dark and unhinged.

  Tyson knew he had to act fast, before the Goblin realized his ploy. The sinister whine of the Goblin's glider cut through the air as it rose to its master's and. Spider-Man swung on, Mary Jane secure in his arms. He aimed for the police barricade at the end of the bridge, carryio safety far from the ing battle. Her wide eyes were fixed on Spider-Man's masked face, filled with breathless gratitude.

  The Green Goblin, still riding high on the delusions of his imagiriumph, prepared to mount his glider once more. "Ahhhh! Look out, Spider-Man!" he cackled into the wind, oblivious to the fact that his true adversary lurked not precariously below, but directly behind.

  Like a vengeful ghost, Tyson dropped his illusion and materialized in the Green Goblin's shadow. Without warning, his adamantium cws plunged deep into the Goblin's leg. The iructible metal met ance as it sliced through armor, muscle, and bone as easily as if they were made of paper. The Goblin's triumphant ughter morphed into screams of pure agony as he colpsed, his leg now pletely useless.

  "You little i!" the Goblin shrieked, bming Spider-Man for his pain as his face t in agony. But Tyson remained unfazed, repeating the crippling a on the vilin's . Now hamstrung, the Goblin's glider was useless with both legs destroyed. The once fearsome vilin now pitifully writhed upon the ground, his crazed eyes meeting Tyson's calm, mismatched gaze. Those heteroatic eyes were the st thing the Goblin saw before darkness ed his visioirely.

  "My eyes! I 't see!" the Goblin bellowed. "You'll pay for this, you... you monster!" But his threats were empty. Tyson removed the Goblin's helmet, revealing the unmasked face of Norman Osborn, torted in insane fury. Raising his adamantium-reinforced fist, Tyson struck. The Goblin's curses faded to mumbles, and then to silence, his sciousness slipping away uhe mutant's merciless blows.

  — Rogue Rept —

  The night air was still and silent around the police barricade where Natasha stood with uniformed officers fnking her and backup nearby. All eyes were fixed on the bridge overhead, where Spider-Man had vanished minutes earlier after resg the st civilian, a red-haired woman that Natasha reized as having atteyson's Thanksgiving dihe redhead teen now sat off to the side, ed in a shoket, sipping from a water bottle as EMTs fussed over her.

  ing from the bridge, there was nothing. No sounds of battle, no maniacal cag from the Green Goblin, no screams of terror. Only teicipation hung in the air.

  Then the familiar whir of a jet e through the uneasy quiet as the Green Goblin's signature glider desded from the bridge. Its appearairred a wave of dread among the onlookers below. Had the maniacal Green Goblin emerged victorious after all?

  But fusion quickly repced the spike of panistead of swooping down for a menag attack, the glider approached at a leisurely, almost casual pao faster than a jog. As it drew he figure perched atop it came into focus through the dark night.

  It wasn't the Green Goblin at all, but rather Mirage, the Goblin's helmet. A coed figure was slung over his shoulder, bound tightly in webbing. Relief flooded through the crowd as they reized the captive as the Green Goblin himself, his signature helmet goo reveal the unmasked face of Norman Osborn twisted in unscious fury. The onlookers erupted into cheers at the realization that Spider-Man and Mirage had triumphed, with Mirage bringing the defeated vilin in for justice.

  As he drew near, Mirage's voice rang out, muffled somewhat by the helmet's facepte. "The trols on this thing are not intuitive at all," he ented wryly. "I'll bet Iron Man's suit is much more user-friendly."

  Before Natasha could respond, a uniformed officer stepped forward, eyes narrowing in suspi. "Where's Spider-Man?" he demanded brusquely.

  Mirage's amusement was evident even through the helmet as he replied nontly, "He had a previous e, but he sends his regards."

  The officer's face tightened, his jaw g. "Mirage, you're under arrest," he decred, his words quieting the buzz of the crowd.

  But Natasha quickly intervened, her voice clear and authoritative. "You don't have the jurisdi to arrest him," she stated firmly, standing tall.

  The officer squared his shoulders, "Isn't this New York City? NYPD has jurisdi."

  Natasha stepped closer, her badge glinting uhe city lights. "This man is w as a tracted agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.," she said, gesturing toward Mirage.

  Bewilderment clouded the officer's face. "What in the hell is S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

  "Strategiend Intervention, Enfort, and Logistics Division," Natasha responded crisply, straightening with pride.

  Before the argument could escate further, Mirage waved his fingers in a mystical pass and called out, "ue dies alemen. I'm not actually here anyway." With a wink and a puff of smoke, his form dissipated, leaving behind only the bound Norman Osborn.

  Behind the ses

  - Should Goblin have goer Gwen instead of MJ?

  Probably. But he left on Thanksgiving befeter got together, and wasn’t aware of their retionship.

  - Natasha’s age in the MCU at this point is 26. Acc to the Winter Soldier, she was born in 1984. This cides closely with Scarlett Johansson’s actual age. Natasha’s nguages were drawn from her profile in Iron Man 2.

  - I teased Kraven way ba Chapter 12, and he finally makes an appearahose of you who py Spiderman may have been underwhelmed by his showing here, but who knows what’ll happen iure...