Date: Thursday, January 6, 2011.

  Loanhattan, New York

  The murmur of versations and the incessant clig of ptop keys filled the coffee shop. Natasha Romanoff sat across from Tyson dressed in a casual bck jacket over a red shirt with jeans. "You've made quite an impression, Tyson," Natasha said, "With your abilities and quick thinking in the field, SHIELD could use someone like you."

  Tyson raised his eyebrows, feigning ignorance. "SHIELD? Like the a you gave the police officer? Strategiend, yadda yadda?"

  Natasha nodded, a small smile pying on her lips. "We hahe kinds of situations others 't, or won't. And we need people who face the ued and keep standing. People like you."

  The coffee shop door swung open, allowing a breeze to sweep into the warm interior, along with a man whose imposing presence seemed to swallow the room. He was cloaked in a long, bck trench coat, with a patch c one eye. His demeanor was calm and unhurried, but there was an undeniable weight about him. His head was shaved , and his beard was ly trimmed. As the man approached, the chatter in the room quieted noticeably, as if his anding aura demanded respect from those around him. He reached Natasha and Tyson's table and pulled up a chair, seating himself with the casual authority of someoerly used to being in charge.

  "Tysohe man in charge of it all," Natasha gestured toward the newer. "Nick Fury, Director of SHIELD."

  Fury’s single eye assessed Tyson, seeming to see into him, "Son, the world is full of dangers most people don't realize exist," Fury began, "SHIELD stands between those threats and i lives. But we 't do it alone." He leaned forward, folding his hands oable. "We need individuals with special talents like yours. You've proven yourself capable in the field, and we offer resources, information, and tech you won’t find anywhere else. You help us, we help you. That's the deal."

  Tyson pted the offer. It was more than he'd expected so soo across from two of the most formidable operatives in the world, being io join their exclusive ranks. But Tysohat with su opportunity, clear boundaries would be needed. "I want to help," Tyson finally said, his voice steady despite the gravity of the moment, "but it has to be on my terms. I'll need autonomy, the ability to refuse missions that don't align with my principles."

  Agent Romanoff nodded almost imperceptibly, her expression thoughtful as she sidered his words. Director Fury remained impassive but atteaking in the young man's stiputions without obje.

  Fury sidered him for a moment before speaking. "Anything else?"

  "Yes," Tyson replied without hesitation. "I want a dedicated SHIELD liaison, someone I trust, who'll be avaible when they're not out in the field."

  Fury's single eye narrowed slightly, the barest hint of a smile toug his lips. "Let me guess. Agent Romanoff?"

  Tyson g Natasha, then back at Fury. "I trust her."

  Fury gave a single nod, the kind that said he'd already anticipated the request. "Fine. But remember, Romanoff has her assigs. You get her when you , not always when you want." Tyson uood. Natasha was invaluable, her missions were critical to SHIELD's operations. He couldn't expect her to be at his bed call. "One more thing," Fury said, and there was a new, calg look in his eye. "A few months ago, there was a heist at the Federal Reserve. The details were never made publid they never will be."

  Tyson bliaken aback by this revetion.

  Fury smiled slightly, leaning ba his chair, pleased at Tyson's stunned rea. "sider it... seed mohe Green Goblin did a quarter of that value in damages during his feearances. You've proven yourself resourceful, and even heroes have bills. Use it to fund your operations, and improve year. Stay ahead of the threats."

  "But it's an iment in you," Natasha added, her gaze intense. "We're expeg you to use it wisely."

  Tysohe weight of their trust, the enormity of what they were , and what they expected iurn. "Okay," he said finally, a sense of determinatioling over him. "I'm in. And I'll prove you made the right choice."

  After Fury left, Tyson and Natasha sat alo the table. The din of the crowded shop faded away as an intimacy settled over them. He studied her face, taking in the way her red hair curled softly against her cheek. Though her expression was somber, there was a warmth there that she reserved just for him. With a flourish, Tyson made a bottle of her favorite wine appear oable causing Natasha to raise a sculpted eyebrow in surprise.

  "You trust me, huh? After everything?" she asked lightly.

  Tyson smiled gently back at her. "Up fame to find out?" he suggested, holding up the jured wihe illusion was fwless, from the densation beading otle to the dark plum liquid that sloshed inside.

  Natasha's eyes narrowed, though there yful glint in their jade depths. "Is this real?" she questiorailing a manicured finger along the bottle's curved surface.

  "No," Tyson fessed with a casual shrug, "but I use the practice mimig the effects of intoxication." His voice was tinged with amusement.

  Tyson studied Natasha's face, watg her smile transform from the usual seriousness she wore like a mask into something rare and gehat lit up her features. The ge was startling as if the sun had broken through storm clouds, and Tyson found himself momentarily mesmerized.

  "Fine," Natasha said, "but no Truth or Strip this time," she stated while pointing at him acgly.

  "You're pointing at me like it was my idea," Tyson said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "What's the matter? Not an exhibitionist?" Tyson teased, leaning in closer, his gaze never leaving her face. With a theatrical whisper, he added, "No one will know if I don't want them to."

  She snorted, "There are cameras in here you goof. You o work on your situational awareness." But Natasha's fleeting smile faded, her expression once more shuttered and unreadable. "I'm being reassigemporarily," she revealed, her voice softening with regret. "I won't be your liaison for some time."

  Tyson nodded in uanding. He knew Natasha went wherever SHIELD sent her, no matter the personal cost. It was a burden she bore unpiningly. And one Fury had just warned him about. "SHIELD calls and you answer," he murmured. Though he kept his tone light, disappoi flickered in his chest at the thought of her absence.

  "But you did get the st question, and I didn’t get your real pants..." Natasha said, trying to recapture their earlier pyfulness. "So I get to ask one. Do you gerust me?"

  Tyson jured some wine gsses with his power, buying time to sider the question behind his easy smile. He poured illusory wio the gsses and slid it toward Natasha before replying. "I probably shouldn’t," he admitted frankly. "You came into my life under false pretenses, and as far as I tell, you deceived me through all our iions to learn my secrets." Natasha took a sip of the imaginary wine, her jade eyes watg him steadily over the rim of the gss. Tyson swirled the false wine pensively. "But I know there’s more to you, Nat," he tinued after a moment, his voice sincere. "And I hope, one day, you’ll show me."

  Silence fell between Tyson and Natasha after their pyful banter became heavy. "The life we lead, the secrets, the stant danger..." Natasha started, her voice trailing off as she set her gss down oable between them. "It's not for everyone."

  Tyso her jade-green gaze steadily, "I'm not just anyone," he said, his voiwavering.

  A small, appreciative smile touched Natasha's lips. "No, you're not," she agreed.

  The mood tio shift between heavy introspe and lighthearted flirtation as Tyson and Natasha carried on with their verbal sparring. "Where are you headi?" Tyson asked, genuine curiosity c his words.

  "California, likely," Natasha responded with a casual shrug, her crimson hair catg the light as she moved.

  "Oh," Tyson said, uo keep the hint of disappoi from his voice.

  "Miss me already?" Natasha teased, an amused glint lighting up her green eyes.

  "Yup," Tyson replied without hesitation, his blunt hoy catg her slightly off guard. Leaning forward, his eyes were bright with the thrill of their game. "Hey, it's my questiht? So here's a good one. Let's say, hypothetically, I had the super soldier serum. Would you take it?"

  Natasha's face took on a thoughtful look as she turned over the implications in her mind. "Some of the founders of SHIELD had a hand iing the initial super soldier serum. There's a rumor that the serum amplifies everything that is inside you, so good bees great; bad bees worse," she mused. "I've fought hard to e to terms with my past, to own my choices and my mistakes. I wouldn't want to risk amplifying any lingering darkness still within me." Her voice was steady as she gave her answer, revealing the depth of self-awareness and the inner journey she had uaken to accept her past.

  Tyson nodded respectfully, appreciatihoughtful response. He tihinking aloud, "Maybe Norman Osborn was always arrogant and a little bit crazy to start with. Perhaps his super soldier serum was the real deal, but when the serum worked on him, because of who he already was, it didn't just make him strong, it made him megalomaniacal and insane."

  Though the mood had turned serious for a moment as they discussed Norman Osborn's dest into madness, Natasha's smile soourned, lightening the atmosphere once more. "Okay, st one, because otherwise I might sit here all day drinking with you," she decred, her tone pyful as she looked across the table at him. "What's it like being with someone, using illusions?"

  Tyson chuckled softly at the personal question, taking a sip of his drink before responding. "Same as being with them without it, just a little more awkward at the end."

  Natasha ughed, not shying away from the intimate subject. "Guess that depends on the ending," she retorted slyly.

  Tyson smiled, raising his wine gss in appreciation of her boldness. "I suppose it does," he ceded with an amused shake of his head.

  "All the same, huh?" Natasha tinued, her curiosity clearly piqued. "Everything feels real?"

  Tyson's gaze dropped, and a shadow passed over his face. When he lifted his face again, the familiar green-blue eyes were gone, repced by ft red ones with three as orbiting the pupil in a haunting dance. "Reality is only what you perceive," he stated.

  In an instant, the coffee shop melted away. Natasha found herself sitting on a log in a forest clearing. The sery was breathtaking; t trees with leaves like hands reag for the sky. The ground estry of vibrant flora, and the air was alive with the rustle of hiddeures. Sunlight dappled through the dense opy at the edge of the clearing, casting a kaleidoscope of light and shadow all around.

  Without warning, Tyson, who had been standing in the clearing, burst into a flock of crows, bck as night. They swirled around her in a tornado of fpping wings, only to coalesce behind her moments ter. One of his arms snaked around her waist, pulling her close, while his other hand pressed a kunai to her throat.

  He leaned in, his breath ghosting against her skin, the threat in his eyes as real as the on at her neck. "Does it feel real?" he murmured the words, a challenge and a caress all at once.

  The world seemed to hold its breath, but Natasha didn't miss a beat. "As real as it gets," she replied, her tone unwavering. A smile then tugged at the ers of her lips. "You're su otaku."

  At her words, Tyson reeled as if she'd physically struck him. The illusion he had crafted shattered like gss. The vibrant forest dispersed and they were ba the quiet er of the coffee shop. "You know Naruto!?" he blurted out, his posure splintering into boyish excitement. His eyes, no longer held the Sharingan red of the illusion, as he mumbled, "I think I might be in love."

  "Careful there, Agent Smith," Natasha begaone holding an edge of seriousness even as her emerald eyes held a pyful glint. She rexed bato the plush chair, "That's a high-stakes operation. It's not all wine and wild motorcycle rides through the city, you know." She let the statement hang in the air betweehe warning clear despite the teasing lilt in her voice. Tyso her gaze steadily, the excitement in his eyes tempering into something more solemn. "But, who knows?" Natasha tinued after a moment, "Missions e with uable outes... And one day, I might just let you in on some cssified information." She finished with a wink, the pyful sparkle returning to her eyes suggesting that, maybe, she wasirely opposed to the idea of someorying to keep pace with her.

  Their bahe questions, the proximity, it art of the game they'd pyed siheir first meeting months ago.

  — Rogue Rept —

  * * *

  The courthouse steps were an o of fshing cameras and shoutiers brandishing microphones as they surged forward to accost the somber procession of friends and family funneling past. Security personnel did their best to hold back the tide.

  Among the mourners, Harry Osborn's face told the tale of a young man at war with himself. Grief and anger warred across his features with denial as a subtle third adversary in the mix.

  Ihe courthouse, the air hung heavy. Low murmurs and shuffling papers filled the background, but an almost palpable anticipation overwhelmed the whispers. The past came back to haunt the families of the victims within the crowded room, memories of the Green Goblin's reign of terror that had rocked the city with maniacal ughter. They sat with hands ched, grief a physical presehat filled the air.

  Reporters snagged impromptu interviews, dredging up tears and ragged decrations of the need for justice with their probing questions.

  Harry Osborn sat apart from the rest. His fiightened on a photograph of his father until the edges crumpled. "They won't get away with this. her of them, Spider-Man or Mirage," Harry whispered to the picture, his voice thin and lost beh the ambient hey took everything from me. I won't rest until I see them destroyed."

  The frozen smile in the photo offered no response. Harry pocketed it, a new fire kindling in his eyes. It seemed revenge would be his ianow.

  Norman Osborn shuffled into the courtroom. The heavy-duty shackles around his wrists were specially made to hold someoh his enharength. The murmuring crowd fell silent as the judge entered from his chambers.

  The sharp crack of the gavel cut through the room. "All rise for the arraig of Norman Osborn," bellowed the bailiff.

  The crowd rose in a wave, tless eyes fixed on the man who had terrorized the city as the Green Goblin. This was the beginning of the end, they hoped. The first step in bringing him to justice. But for Harry, watg from the gallery, it was the start of something darker. Revenge simmered in his veins, a quest that would e him if he wasn't careful. He stared at his father, noting the defeated slump of the man's shoulders. Norman Osborn seemed small now, diminished. Just a man about to face overdue sequences.

  The judge's voice was calm, a steadying force amidst the courtroom's roiliions. "We gather today to uphold the w and seek justice for those we have lost. Though the acts we will hear of are monstrous, this trial will be ducted fairly."

  And so began the arraig of the man known as Norman Osborn, and the terror known as the Green Goblin. But while the crowd focused on Norman, Harry's thoughts were only of retribution, of destroying the ones who had takehing from him. The photograph of his father burned in his pocket, a reminder of the vengeance he would seek.

  The prosecutor's booming voice rattled off the litany of charges. Multiple ts of murder, terrorism, and unspeakable acts of violenitted by the Green Goblin. Norman's face remained an impassive mask, not fling as the accusations piled up.

  The prosecution was relentless, unveiling each piece of evideh dramatic fir. They dispyed sinister-looking gadgets, ons, and devices, all recovered from Norman's home. The air grew thick with dread as grieving family members took the stand, their testimonies painting a haunting picture of loss. Mothers wept openly while fathers seethed, their voices tight with anger as they reted memories. Siblings spoke haltingly of the hole left behind by their murdered loved ones.

  The defeable seemed to carry a weight all its owe the heavy pall of grief hanging over the courtroom. Norman's wyers sat with faces taut with stress as they argued for a plea of insanity. They spun a tale of a man lost to a separate personality, the Green Goblin, a creature of pure madness existing beyond Norman's trol.

  But the prosecutioheir trump card. Surveilnce footage from Oscorp. It showed Norman not as a man hounded by an untrolble alter ego, but as a willing partit. He eagerly initiated the process that began his transformation into the Green Goblin, against reendations from another stist. The evidence was clear and damning.

  Murmurs erupted through the courtroom as the insanity defense crumbled. Watg from the gallery, Harry felt his heart sink. The father he had known, the man he had loved, morphed in his mind into someone, or something, he could no longer reize.

  The jury's verdict came swiftly, the gavel crack eg like a gunshot. Guilty, on all charges. A wave of relief swept palpably through the courtroom, punctuated by cries from the victims' families. Some wept openly while others embraced, their nightmare finally over as justice was served.

  The stern-faced judge, whose anding voice brooked no nonsense, wasted no time in handing down the sentence. Given the depraved brutality of Norman's crimes and the clear menace he posed, Norman was remao the RAFT, the maximum security prison run by SHIELD for the most dangerous offenders.

  The courtroom begaying as the crowd spilled out into the sunlight, relieved that the Green Goblin's reign of terror had ended with justice served. But young Harry Osborn remained rigidly in his seat long after the murmuring voices and shuffli had faded into echoes. He was aloh his roiling thoughts, a hurrie of fury, sorrow, and vows of revenge swirling within his mind. While the world outside moved blithely onward, for Harry, time ground to a halt. He clutched his father's photograph tightly, the edges no with his tears. For many, the jourowards justice had ended, but for Harry, a new path was unfolding, paved with malevolent i and haunted by the Green Goblin's mog ughter.

  Tyson sat through the ey of the trial. And through it all, his heart tio sink. Norman Osborn had done so much damage. Caused so much death. Ayson could've stopped it all in the beginning. He was too busy w about his identity and the sequences of his early intervention. But now, seeing all the people missing family members, and all of the Green Goblin's victims, Tysretted not doing more.

  Tyson thought about Uncle Ben. Thehought about SHIELD letting him keep the money he'd stolen. While Fury appreciated Tyson's intervention, he wondered what Fury would think if he knew Mirage could've stopped the Green Goblin before his first rampage. As the trial proceeded, Tyson's guilt a mounted. He heard the testimony and evidence presented, but all he could think about was how he had failed the city. How his ina had led tedy.

  When the guilty verdict was read, Tyson closed his eyes. There was no celebration within him, no sense of justice served. Only sadness for the lives destroyed and the knowledge that he could have preve all.

  The city was still reeling from the Green Goblin's trial when Sergei Kravinoff, otherwise known as Kraven the Hunter, swaggered into the courtroom, charged with attempted murder among other crimes. He did not seem the least bit rattled by the accusations against him. Instead, he wore his arrogance like a cloak, his lips twisted into a self-satisfied smirk that made the spectators' skin crawl.

  Kraven's bravado was unlike anything the courtroom had seen before. He did not shy away from his fearsome reputation; on the trary, he seemed to relish it. Each gruesome at of his heinous acts, detailed by the prosecution, was met with a nont shrug or a dismissive snort from the defendant.

  The atmosphere in the courtroom grew tense as a key witness was called to the stand. Mirage, a ret colborator with SHIELD, had crossed paths with the defendant in the past. Kraven the Hunter had shown Mirage firsthand his delight in the hunt and utter disregard for human life.

  Normally, it was not legal for a wito testify without revealing their true identity. However, the judge made an exception in Mirage's case since he had been ag as a sultant for SHIELD at the time of their enter. The judge instructed that his testimony would not be sidered hard evidence, but rather an expnation of his involvement with and impressions of Kraven's character.

  Mirage took the stand. Kravehe masked man with amusement as if enjoying the spectacle. The prosecution led Mirage through an at of his enter with Kraven. Mirage described how before announg himself, Kraven had throear at Spider-Man. The spear aimed to kill, but luckily missed Spider-Man. However, lodged inte's ribs. Throughout the testimony, Kraven listened with a small, smug smile, meeting the descriptions of his handiwork with pride.

  When the defeorney began his cross-examinatioempted to rattle Mirage, questioning the reliability of his at since he refused to reveal his true face. But Mirage stood firm, insisting that though anonymity was required to protect those close to him, he spoke the truth about Kraven's pent for brutality.

  Kraven scoffed at this, his arroganfazed by the damning words from the stand. He sat back wearing his self-satisfa like a cloak, relishing his fearsome reputation rather than shying away from it. The spectators shifted in disfort, uled by the defendant's bravado in the face of such accusations. But Kraven appeared wholly uned with the gruesome proceedings, treating the erial as a trivial amusement rather than a reing for his alleged crimes.

  "His eyes," Mirage reted, "they didn't hold a sliver ret or remorse. To him, I wasn't a person. I was just...prey."

  “You are prey!” Kravenoff called out.

  The courtroom shuddered collectively at Kraven's chilling words, the merciless attitude settling over the room like a cold fog. The prosecution proceeded to solidify their ironcd case against the defendant with irrefutable evidence of his heinous crimes. They presented evidence from Kraven's first hunt of Spider-Man, the oyson hadn't been made aware of. Kraven had set lethal traps iral Park to lure in his prey. But the traps did more than just target the web-slinger. Copious amounts of traps had beehroughout the area, posing a deadly threat. I civilians fell victim to the ruthless traps. Several people had been injured, and a few were killed by the merciless snares.

  The defeorney's shoes clicked against the courtroom floor as he approached the podium, though his stride cked its usual fidehe mountain of damning evideacked against his t had shakehis seasoned wyer's nerves. He cleared his throat and shuffled his notes, stealing a g the smirking murderer sitting at the defendant's table. Kraven lounged zily in his chair as if rexing at home instead of fighting for his freedom. His predataze swept over the courtroom like a lion surveying a herd of helpless gazelle, utterly uned with the proceedings against him.

  "Ladies alemen of the jury," the defeorney began, "let us take a rational look at the facts of this case."

  It was a futile plea. Mirage's at of staring into Kraven's pitiless eyes had chilled the jury to their core. No clever arguments could erase the atrocities Kraven had itted, meticulously doted and dispyed by the prosecution. The defense wyer stumbled over his statements, grasping at straws as he struggled to portray his t as misuood rather than the monster we knew him to be. Kraven seemed to find the bumbling performaertaining, chug under his breath as if enjoying a private joke at his wyer's expense. When his turn came to testify in his own defense, he did not attempt to appear sympathetic to the jury. Instead, he bragged of his exploits, speaking with obvious pride about the lives he had ruined and the pain he had inflicted. He lounged ba the witness chair, leveling his predataze at the men and women who held his fate in their hands.

  "None of you could survive a single day in my world," he told them, lips curled in a sneer. A ripple of unease went through the jury box at his words. The prosecution had worked hard to paint Kraven as a ruthless, heartless killer, but his testimony erased any lingering doubts. This was no misuood victim of circumstahis was a monster.

  The jury wasted little time in reag a unanimous verdict. Guilty on all ts. When the judge handed down a sentence of 18 years, Kraven showed no relief or remorse. Instead, he threw back his head and ughed, a wild chilling sound that seemed to echo endlessly off the courtroom walls. As officers moved to restrain him, Kraven shouted over his shoulder, "The hunt is far from over!"

  His vow lingered like a dark promise.

  — Rogue Rept —

  * * *

  Within the bowels of New York's vast sewer work, the eg drips and skittering of unseeures created an uling atmosphere that was a world away from the bright lights and bustle of the city above. But Spider-Man was not faint of heart. He moved with purpose through the damp and dark tunnels. He carefully id an intricate work of tripwires across the sewers, creating a plex web desigo vibrate at the slightest touch.

  Spider-Man had caught only glimpses of something rge, powerful, and fast stalking down into these tunnels, but the shed skin he found, poio the Lizard, the creature Mirage had fought on the bridge that night Uncle Behat's why Peter now found himself down in this dank underworld. With the Green Goblin handled, he had goo see Dr. Curt ors, hoping the brilliaicist could shed some light on the Lizard's ins. But Peter's instincts told him the good doctor was holding something back. His thoughts turo the formu he had helped ors plete, the key teing lost limbs. Had the doctor's stific curiosity led him to test it on himself? If Peter's hunch proved true, it meant this respected man had unleashed a monster upoy. The idea was difficult for Spider-Man to accept, even after all the impossibilities he had witnessed since gaining his powers. But ready or not, he had a feeling answers y ahead in the dark. Gripping his camera tightly, Peter steeled himself and pressed deeper into the shadows.

  Perched on the side of a tunnel, Spider-Man paused to check the small, cobbled-together devi his hand. Though crude, it was his only means of monit the web work. A blip on its tiny s would alert him that something had tripped the wires, allowing him to pinpoint the location of his quarry. Spider-Man was ready. Tonight the hunter would bee the hunted.

  Spider-Man crouched in the damp shadows of the sewer tuhe only sound being his breathing which echoed softly off the curved walls. He couldn't help a small, bitter chuckle. "Great per," he muttered. "Go into the sewers looking fiant lizard-man. This'll end well."

  The silence swallowed his words, leaving him aloh his thoughts as he waited. His mind drifted to Dr. ors. The brilliant stist who had been so determio overe his disability, whose passion for his work had driven him to push the boundaries too far. It was difficult to recile that image with the monstrous creature Spider-Man now huhrough these dank passages. With a shake of his head, Spider-Man pushed the memories away. This was about more than just ors. There was a city full of i people ting on him to stop whatever ors had bee before anyone else got hurt.

  Time crept by, marked only by the shifting colors oiny s of the cobbled-together devi his hand. The stant moisture in the air g to him like a damp veil. He was beginning to think this night's hunt would be fruitless when the device chirped urgently, its s fshing red.

  In an instant Spider-Man was off, scrambling through the maze of tunnels as fast as his limbs could take him. His heart pounded, not with fear, but determination. This was his ce to face the creature, to try and save ors.

  He skidded to a halt where the signal ihe tunnel had been ripped apart, ks of crete strewn about. His tripwire hung limp and severed. But there was no sign of his quarry, only a lingering sense of lurking danger.

  The sewer tunnels were as silent as a tomb. Spider-Man moved deeper, spider seingling. The chill, fetid air raised goosebumps along his arms and the back of his neck. Water dripped a maddening, arrhythmic beat. His eyes adjusted slowly to the darkness. He sed high and low, taking in each shadowed nook and y. The soft squelch of his footsteps and steady puffs of breath seemed too loud as if the sileself listened for any intruders. A faint twang resohrough the web of tripwires he had id. Spider-Man tensed, muscles coiling in anticipation. Something approached.

  Ripples shuddered across the dark sewer pools, preg the heavy footfalls that sent shivers skittering over the surface. Each step rang out like the beat of a war drum, steady yet growing closer. Spider-Man crouched low, ready t into a as a hulking shadow lumbered around the er.

  The Lizard emerged into the dim light, its massive body filling the tunnel. Sickly green scales reflected what little illumination there was, casting an otherworldly glow over the sewers. Feral yellow eyes fixed on Spider-Man with predatory iy. For a heartbeat, a flicker of humanity shone in those reptilian orbs.

  “ors! I know you’re in there! You need help!” Spider-Man shouted, not ready to give up on the man behind the beast. But the Lizard hissed out a sound of pure animalistic aggression and lunged forward.

  The battle that erupted was a csh of agility against raw power. Spider-Man leaped and spun in the air, shooting webs in an attempt to either restrain or swing away from his monstrous oppo. But the Lizard was relentless, tearing through the webbing as though it were mere paper. The creature's massive body filled the dank tunnel, its regeive abilities healing any minor wounds it sustained. Its thick tail whipped about like a gigantic club, smashing into the crete walls and sending debris flying. Razor-sharp cws swiped through the air, seeking Spider-Man with deadly i.

  Water sloshed and echoed withiight fines of the sewer, adding to the chaos as Spider-Man narrowly ducked under a swipe that would have decapitated him. In response, he shed out with a kick that sent the Lizard stumbling backward a few steps. But the beast quickly recovered, r with a primal rage that shook the very foundations of the tunnels.

  Throughout the fierce exge, Spider-Maalking, his words as much a on as his fists. "This isn't you, Doc!" he shouted, desperate to believe that ors was still in there somewhere, that he could hear him through the bloodlust of the Lizard.

  And that was when it happened. For a split sed, the Lizard's ferocious snarl faltered. The savage yellow of its eyes dulled slightly as humaion bled into them. "P-Peter..." came the strained, guttural voice. Unmistakably that of ors trying to surface through the monstrous alter-ego.

  "Dr. ors!" Spider-Man straightened, heart pounding with a mix of hope and urgency. "You're still in there! Fight it!"

  The Lizard let out a chilling ugh. "You're Spider-Man? I should have known, with your persistend questions." The words were ed but intelligible. "But you won't stop me!"

  The Lizard's monstrous form barreled toward Spider-Man. Each swipe was meant to deliver a killing blow. The fetid air of the sewer tunnel reverberated with the shockwaves of its savage ferocity. Though agile and qui his feet, Spider-Man could not fully evade the Lizard's onsught. Razor sharp cws caught him across the chest, slig through his suit and leaving behind trails of hot blood. The force of the blow sent Spider-Man tumbling backward into the murky sewage water behind him. Before he could regain his footing, the Lizard on him once more. Its powerful arms pinned Spider-Man uer. The creature's cold reptilian eyes gleamed with predatory satisfa as it held him down. Spider-Man could feel the burning in his lungs intensify as they cried out for air, his vision beginning to fade at the edges as darkhreateo overtake him.

  Beyond the desperation and the pain of his injuries, Spider-Man's resolve did not waver. He had to break free. He could not give up this fight.

  Summoning every ounce of strength, Spider-Man twisted violently, propelling himself out of the foul water in a spray of droplets. He gasped as precious air filled his ag lungs, though there was no time for relief. The Lizard was already bearing down on him once more. The two locked in a blurring dance of kicks and swipes.

  Spider-Man and the Lizard battled ferociously through the crumbling sewer tunnels beh the city. Their titaniflict straihe already fragile infrastructure to its limits. Pipes buckled and burst uhe tremendous force, shooting high-pressure jets of water into the air. The cracked crete walls trembled, ks breaking free and tumbling down around them as the aged foundations shook from the fury unleashed in their hiddehs.

  Calling upon his keen intellect, Spider-Man sed the debris-strewn enviro until they nded on a precarious cluster of roear the ceiling. A pn formed quickly in his mind, and with a few precise shots of webbing from his wrists, followed by a tug, he triggered a cave-in, sending a torrent of rubble crashing dowween himself and the raging Lizard.

  As the dust settled, Spider-Man leaned heavily against a grimy wall. His chest heaved as he gulped grateful lungfuls of air. Blood from his many wounds mixed with the sewer filth that coated his e.

  Spider-Man's body of aches and pains as he pushed himself off the foul sewer wall. He winced, feeling every bruise, every scratd gash that the Lizard's cws had torn into his flesh. Spider-Man faced a hard truth. He wasn't equipped to hahis alone, not on the Lizard's home turf. He needed help. And he o find a cure for Dr. ors.

  Spider-Man emerged from the sewer into the night, the bright city lights a jarring trast to the inky bess he had just left behind. His suit was tattered and torn, blood seeping from wounds deeper than just his skin. They were a stant reminder of his failure to reach the man that still lurked somewhere behind the monster, his mentor, his parents' friend. As Spider-Man swung low and fast across the city, the buildings blurred past in a haze. He had only oination in mind, one bea of hope on this tumultuous night. Gwen. Smart, resourceful Gwen. She was one of the few who khe truth of his double life. More than that, she was his rock, a grounding presence he desperately needed now.

  Spider-Man nded with less grace than usual on Gwen's baly, his battered body loudly protesting the movement. She slid the gss door open, worry clear on her face as she excimed "Peter!" Rushing to his side, Gwen helped support him as he limped into her apartment.

  Peter Parker nded oacy's baly with less grace than his alter ego Spider-Man typically dispyed. His battered body loudly protested the jarring movement as he half-limped, and half-stumbled through the open gss window into the warmth of her apartment. Worry and relief warred on Gwen's face as she rushed to support him, exg "Peter!"

  "I need help, Gwen," Peter admitted through gritted teeth, the words pained in more ways than just the physical. Asking for assistance wouhe heroic spirit within that he tried so hard to embody. He was supposed to be the one who saved others, not the one needing saving.

  Gwen's slim fingers helped peel away the tattered remnants of his e to assess the damage underh. Her touch remained gentle even as her gaze grew focused, cataloging cuts and bruises. "You're a mess, Peter Parker," she murmured, though her voice held , only an undercurrent of for the battered young man before her.

  "I've had better nights," Peter tried to joke, but the quip fell ft amidst the stark evidence of the battle he had barely survived.

  "What happened?" Gwen asked as she ed and dressed the worst of the wounds.

  "It's Dr. ors...he's the Lizard, Gwen. And I couldn't stop him," Peter fessed thickly, the admission feeling like a physical blow. Saying it aloud made the failure feel more real, more perma.

  Gwen paused, her eyes log with Peter's. He braced himself for recrimination but found only passion and steely resolve ieady gaze. "Then we'll find a way to help him, together," she stated, vi lending strength to the vow.

  The determination in Gwen's voice was like a balm to Peter's frayed nerves, soothing the raw edges of his failure. But then, a kno the bedroom door shattered the momentary peace that had settled over the pair. "Gwen, honey? I made cookies. Do you want some?" The familiar, authoritative voice of Captain Stacy filtered through the door, ced with a father's affe for his only daughter.

  Panic, swift and sharp as a knife, sliced through the tension in the room. Peter's eyes widened in arm, mirr the look of sho Gwen's face as they shared a split sed of sheer, paralyzing fear. With Peter half dressed in his Spider-Man suit, wounds from the ret battle still fresh, being discovered here by Gwen's father, a high-ranking and respected police captain, was not an optioher could eain.

  Gwen moved towards the bedroom door, strategically blog her father's line of sight as she opehe door. "Um, no thank you, Dad!" she said through the cracked door in what she hoped was a casual, carefree tone. "I'm not hungry right now."

  "You sure? They're chocote chip, your favorite," Captain Stacy persisted, a hint of authority undersg his words, making it clear he wasn't quite ready to end the versation and walk away just yet.

  A wave of distress passed wen's face. In a stroke of desperation, she blurted out, "I've got cramps, Dad. Really bad ones. I just want to lie down."

  The brief silehat followed her words was heavy, loaded with Captain Stacy's processing of this new information and the unsaid uandiween father and daughter about such delicate topics of feminih. "Oh, alright, sweetheart. Just...rest up then. Holler if you need anything," he finally offered, the earlier cheer in his voice repced with disfort.

  "Will do. Love you, Dad," Gwen replied, uo keep a slight strain from seeping into her voice as she closed the door. She listened ily as Captain Stacy's footsteps receded down the hall.

  Peter had pressed himself against the side of Gwen's bed, making his lean frame as small as possible. He was out of sight but all too aware of the heartbeat in his chest. The close call with Gwen's father had left a sheen of nervous sweat oer's brow, mixing with the grime and blood from his earlier battles. When Gweurned, her expression held a mixture of relief and suppressed amusement at their narrow escape. "That was close," she whispered, though the humor didn't fully eclipse the gravity of the situation.

  "Too close," Peter agreed with a small, shaky ugh. His heart still raced with the residual effects of adrenaline, fear, and the thrill of their narrow brush with discovery were feelings he knew all too well.

  Gwen's hands were on him then, aid ba the ready. The sting of the solutions on his cuts stood in sharp trast to the gentleness of her touch.

  — Rogue Rept —

  * * *

  Within the elegantly appointed suite, Tyson and Felicia were hunched over a cluttered table, p through the assorted dots, photographs, and ptop ss that prised the collected evidence of the Kingpin's illicit empire.

  "We've got enough here to bury him," Felicia remarked as her finger glided over a series of particurly damning photographs.

  Tyson, however, slowly shook his head, his expression grave. "Maybe in a world where men like him don't have the power to manipute the system," he replied. "The Kingpin's got the money and es to bribe cops, hire the best wyers, or find some other way to make all of this disappear." He swept his hand over the table in a gesture of frustration, indig the futility of their accumuted evidence.

  They both fell silent for a moment, the enormity of their task weighing heavily upon them. Beyond the expansive windows, the city lights twinkled in an intricate web, a sprawliwork much like the Kingpin's own far-reag influence.

  Then Felicia's hand paused over a dot, her posture straightening with i. "Tyson, look at this," she said, her tone sharpening. "It's a list of local busihey're the Kingpin's argets."

  Tyson moved closer, his eyes sing the list ily. It was a revetion, an emerging pattern amidst the chaos. "He's expanding, trying to tighten his stranglehold on Hell's Kit," Tyson murmured.

  A steely resolve slid into pce as the implications rapidly coalesced in Tyson's mind. "We 't just sit bad wait for him to make a mistake," he decred, straightening with determination. "It's time we took the fight to him."

  "We'll need a strategy," Felicia asserted, already leaning back over the dots, "Something he won't anticipate ing."

  "Exactly," Tyson agreed firmly, his gaze returning to study the sprawling cityscape outside the window. "We have to py this smart. Because we're not just up against some street thug."

  Tyson and Felicia sat surrounded by a chaotic spread of papers that covered the rge oak table. Eaent was a thread in the vast web of the Kingpin's criminal empire, and the two were preparing to tug at that web.

  Felicia's firaced lines of text on a financial dot. "Look at this, Tyson. Safeguard Tactical Operations, Skyline Cargo Airlines, and Crestpoint Private Bank. They're all targets in the Kingpin's crosshairs. He's a shrewd businessman. These panies aren't random targets. They're cogs in the mae he's building."

  "The private bank handles heavy corporate ats with lots of cash flow," Felioted, chewing pensively on the end of her pen. "trol the money and you trol the power."

  Tyson nodded grimly, "And Skyline has a fleet of cargo pnes, perfeuggling illegal goods. Safeguard's reputation in security means the Kingpin could move anything through them ued."

  Together they leaned over the detailed profile of Crestpoint Private Bank. "It says here he pns to use hackers to initiate a catastrophiancial attack. Stock prices crash, and the Kingpin buys up the crippled bank for pennies on the dolr," Tyson expined, his brow furrowing in distaste at the depths of the Kingpin's ruthlessness.

  Felicia's slender hand moved to the file on Skyline Cargo Airlines. "He's pying dirty with them too. Bribes, damagiions, and public sdals. He's f them into a er so he sweep in and take over."

  "Safeguard's situation isn't aer," Tyson said with a scowl, flipping through the pages. "The Kingpin is inundating them with frivolous wsuits. They'll be begging to sell by the end of it."

  The two shared a grim look, a silent uanding passiweehey were pulling back the curtain on the Kingpin's show, one where he was the undisputed ringmaster.

  "We 't let him get trol of these panies," Felicia said vehemently. "We'll need a pn for eapany," Felicia added, already jotting down potential strategies oepad in front of her.

  "Right," Tyson agreed as he began pag bad forth across the room, his mind rag. "For Crestpoint, we could find a way to teract his hag, stabilize the stock prices..."

  "And for Skyline?" Felicia prompted without missing a beat, her pen poised above the paper.

  "Public support, evidence against the Kingpin's interference, maybe even a buyout offer they 't refuse," Tyson mused aloud, being more animated as he sank deeper into tactical pnning.

  "Safeguard might be trickier with the legal issues," Felicia remarked, a crease of appeariween her brows.

  "We'll expose his as, turn the public opinion in their favor." Tyson decred.

  Their pnning session tie into the night. Though only two people were against aire criminal empire, their list of potential strategies grew as the hours passed. However, as the night deepened, a stark realization began to settle upon them.

  Exasperation seeped into Felicia's tone as she colpsed bato her chair amidst the papers covered in half-formed pns scattered around them. "We're out of our depth," she admitted bluntly. For all their effort, they still cked one crucial thing. A feasible pn.

  Tyson stood by the window, hands ched, as Felicia's blunt words weighed heavily upon him. Despite their te-night brainst session, they still cked the resources and knowledge o ter the Kingpin's far-reag criminal empire. An uneasy silence fell over the room.

  After several long moments, Tyson broke the silence, a new determination edging his voice. "We've been thinking about this all wrong. We won't beat Fisk by pying his game. We're not businessmen al experts. But we are something else."

  Felicia gnced up, curiosity piqued by his tone. "What are you suggesting?"

  Tyson turned from the window, eyes abze with vi. "We hit him where it hurts. We use what we have to make him back off."

  "You mean the evidence?" Felicia leaned forward ily, following his train of thought.

  "Partly. But we also have the element of surprise on our side... abilities he 't predict." Tyson paced as his mind raced ahead. "I say we make him taste real fear. Show him he's not as untouchable as he thinks."

  A slow, uanding smile spread across Felicia's face. "A frontation."

  "Exactly. The ime you meet with him, I'll be there too, as Mirage. I'll make him realize he's vulnerable. We force his hand with the evidend a little… persuasion."

  The pn Tyson had devised was audacious, teetering on reckless, but they were out of ventional options. As Felicia stood o him gazing out the window at the glittering cityscape before them, the glow of the city was reflected in her eyes, mirr the reignited resolve rising within her. "It's dangerous. He won't take kindly to being threatened," she said, turning back to Tyson with a hint of in her voice.

  Tyson nodded, aowledging the risk they would be taking. "True, but this way we'll be the ones making the moves, trolling the game," he replied fidently as he paced bad forth across the room.

  The atmosphere in Felicia's apartment shifted as the despair and frustration of earlier were repced by a shared uandiweehat they were about to embark on their most daring gambit yet against the Kingpin.

  "But what if he retaliates? Goes after us?" Felicia asked, her voice steady even as her eyes betrayed the lurking within.

  "If things go as I hope, he won't even know you're involved," Tyson assured her, fidence radiating from his muscur frame as he turo face her. "The evidence we've gathered, it's not just our on against Fisk. It's our shield too. It'll protect us as much as it'll n him."

  Felicia pted his words for a moment before a fire kindled within her. "Okay. Let's do it your way. Let's show the Kingpin that he's not the only oh power in this city," she agreed, her lips curling into a sly smile.

  — Rogue Rept —

  Felicia Hardy strode into the lobby of Fisk Tower, her heels clig crisply against the polished marble floor. The watchful security guards wore intimidating looks, but Felicia offered them only an amused smirk as she sauoward the elevators as though she owhe pce.

  Outside, Tyson flexed his fingers, uhing the cws he so rarely used. The wind ruffled his hair as he surveyed the sheer gss and crete exterior of Fisk Tower. Taking a deep breath, he leaped onto the side of the building, the cws giving purchase oherwise smooth surface. Hand over hand he asded, the city spreading out below him.

  Meanwhile, Felicia stepped out of the elevator into the vast offi the top floor. The space screamed of power ah. Behind an imposing desk sat Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin, massive and imposing in his crisp white suit.

  "Miss Hardy," rumbled Fisk, rising to wele her. "Do you have my test acquisitions?"

  "I do," replied Felicia, taking a seat before him. Their meeting enced.

  Above, Tyson reached the roof. With a slight flex of his superhuman strength, he opehe access door aered the tower. Steadying himself, he focused his mind on the room he'd memorized from the building pns. Silently he made his way to the door.

  It was showtime.

  The door to Wilson Fisk's office swung open silently as if nudged by an invisible hand. Mirage stepped through, moving with casual fideo the lion's den. The Kingpin raised ohick eyebrow at the masked man's bold entra otherwise did not react.

  "Ah, there you are, Willy," Mirage quipped, sauntering further into the spacious office. "I've been looking for you."

  Fisk's broad face darkened, and a rumbling growl escaped his throat. "How did you get in here?"

  "Trade secret," Mirage said lightly, running two fingers across his lips in a zipping motion.

  With a speed that belied his massive size, Fisk's hand disappeared uhe desk and emerged clutg a gun aimed straight at Mirage's chest. Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger. The bullet punched inte's ribs with a meaty thwack. Mirage grabbed at the wound, staggering back a step. His face torted in pain and shock. "So...rude..." he gasped out. His knees buckled, aoppled forward.

  As his body made tact with the floor, it burst apart in a cloud of smoke that billowed out to fill the office. The smoke swirled and densed into several identical forms of Mirage, each wearing the same cocky grin. A dozen Mirages now occupied the spacious office, surrounding Fisk.

  The Kingpin's left eye twitched in annoyance as he lowered the useless gun, realizing the futility of the on against this particur foe. The chorus of Mirages ughed, the sound eg off the walls and high ceilings.

  The illusioed away until only a single Mirage remained, leaning casually against the edge of Fisk's massive desk. The office fell silent, the tension hanging thi the air as a temporary truce settled between the adversaries.

  "Let's talk," Mirage said, his voice low and serious.

  Fisk regarded the hero with narrowed eyes, his hands folded over his stomach. The Kingpin's suit barely tained his massive frame as he sat impassively behind the desk. "Very well," he rumbled. His deep baritone resohrough the room. "What did you have in mind?"

  Mirage straightened, squaring his shoulders as he faced the crime lord. "I've got enough evideo put you away for life," he stated ftly. As he spoke, the office filled with the glow of projected images. Dots, photos, and financial records floated like a damning colge of Fisk's many misdeeds. Felicia Hardy, standing unobtrusively nearby, widened her eyes in feigned shock, though her pulse quied at the sight.

  Fisk was unmoved. "You must know it's not that simple," he said after a pause. "Take me down, and you leave a power vacuum. U. Chaos." He let his words sink in before tinuing. "And litigation. My wyers will keep this tied up in the courts for years."

  Felicia maintained her guise of stunned witness, watg the standoff warily.

  "We don't have to be enemies," Fisk rumbled. "With my resources and your abilities, we could be allies. Think of the potential." He spread his hands as if the whole city up te.

  Mirage crossed his arms, seeming to sider the offer. "Allies? Why would you help me?" he asked evenly.

  "I'm a businessman," Fisk responded with a trausement in his tone. "I respect...talent. You took down those two madmen. Insanity is bad for business. And unlike Spider-Man, you haven't interfered in my operations up to this point. I'm you a part in my enterprises. Legitimate ones," he added, seeing the skepticism etched on Mirage's face. "Think of it as...a professional courtesy."

  A heavy silence draped the room, the tension palpable betweewo men. Finally, Mirage spoke, "Do I look like a businessman?"

  The Kingpin didn't miss a beat. "You don't o be a businessman to reap the bes," he tered smoothly, the glint in his eyes as sharp as a knife's edge. "I have just the venture. Something... theatrical. The Ftiron Armory. It's a venue fh-profile events under my ownership. pletely legitimate," he emphasized, gauging Mirage's rea.

  "Everything from fashion shows and art galleries to exclusive produches. It's all above board," Fisk eborated, oozing fideh every word. "Perfect for a showman like you. It practically runs itself, staffed and all. You even delegate ma if you're... preoccupied."

  The Kingpin's beady eyes followed Mirage's gaze as it slid toward the lithe, ptinum-blonde figure of Felicia, who had been silent but alert beside Fisk this whole time.

  "Someone like her?" Mirage asked, nodding in Felicia's dire. His t form radiated an imposing sternness.

  Kingpin's broad face remained expressionless, giving no hint of his thoughts. "Her talents are...diverse," he replied evenly, "but if you want her, she's yours. I have her family's fate firmly in my grasp. sider the girl a package deal."

  Mirage's gaze narrowed, his suspi pin. "And the catch?" he demanded.

  Fisk spread his meaty hands, the picture of reasonableness. "A simple non-interference pact," he proposed. "You gain the girl, the Ftiron Armory business, ah stay out of each other's affairs forever."

  Felicia shifted her weight almost imperceptibly at this pronou, feigning disfort at being used as a bargaining chip. Her emerald eyes remained fixed on Mirage.

  Mirage paused, sidering. Then he nodded slowly. "I'll admit, I hadn't thought of su arra before. But now that you suggest it, I find the notion appealing." His voice took on a hypnotic ce as he tinued, "Though simply leaving one another be seems a waste. Why settle for distarality when we could bee the best of friends instead?"

  Since first stepping into the room, Fisk had locked his gaze onte's, as he often did iings, as a dispy of boldness, waiting for the other to flinch or look away first. But this time, the tactic proved his undoing. All the while, Mirage had been subtly w tendrils of his psychic power deep into the crimelord's mind. Fisk showed no outward rea, but Mirage could feel his mental hooks taking hold. The effect wouldn't st permaly, but he sehe man's iron will was not enough to resist his insidious psionivasion.

  "We're going to be allies going forward," Mirage went on fidently. "I'll be taking trol of the Ftiron Armory, but we'll be meeting regurly to discuss your business vehere are going to be some ges around here."

  Fisk nodded in pcid agreement.

  Mirage poi Felicia. "Everything involving the armory will be trolled through this beauty. Ensure she is properly staffed, supported, and advised, all above board. I'm taking her with me to... work my magic." Felicia suppressed a shudder at his phrasing. "She'll return as my proxy, but occasionally I'll drop by for a meeting to ensure everything is running smoothly."

  With another nod of plete pliance from Fisk, Mirage waved his hand theatrically. A cascade of magical sparks enveloped Felicia. Though she felt nothing. Still, she rose as if in a trand moved to follow Mirage out. Felicia wao maintain appearances despite how the meeting had turned out.

  "Pleasure doing business with you, Willy," Mirage quipped as they departed, a triumphant smirk on his face.

  Behind the ses

  - I wrote a few different versions of the Natasha illusion se. Before I settled on the Naruto one. And after I finished writing it, I kicked myself. I’ll be damned I didn’t notitil 200k words into the story that Tyson retty much being a Naruto-style ninja. Not sure how I feel about that...

  - I ged the Spider-Man vs Lizard fight from The Amazing Spiderman (2012). I hated how Spider-Man got lured dowunnel by following all those lizards crawling on his webline.