The jet was quiet in the way only private aircraft ever were, insulated from the world by layers of soundproofing and money. The cabin lights were dimmed to a soft amber. Outside the windows, the night was endless black, stitched with distant stars and nothing else.
He was heading back to New York City. Yelena was in the bathroom. At the time, even though cutting her hair seemed like nothing to her, it did in fact mean something to her. It was actually a bit hilarious to see her sigh and check out her face, realizing it looked boyish. She didn't mind being boyish or a tomboy but she preferred her old hair. Matter of preference.
Felix sat sideways in one of the leather seats, sleeves rolled back. His posture was loose, but his mind wasn't. One hand held his phone to his ear. The other rested against the armrest, fingers tapping once, then stilling.
A burst of wind came through the speaker, followed by a shiver. "Cold. Very cold. The swim was…"
"Something?"
"Yes." M'Baku shivered. He could literally hear his teeth chattering on the other end of the phone. According to Felicia, he had to be wrapped in two layers of jackets and a towel from the moment he got out of the water.
But ultimately, M'Baku did it. He actually did it. He managed to swim an impossible distance inside the SHIELD card-making facility and send him the metadata of the White Card. He did what even Felix could not do.
"Thank you, M'Baku."
"I merely did what I needed to," said the Wakandan revolutionary.
"Still, thank you. Really."
'....'
Rash should have complimented him too. He didn't. The Symbiote was disturbingly quiet., to the point that he wasn't communicating with Herbie. It was annoying. Fortunately, he had his Advanced Glasses nearby but still. Felix leaned his head back against the seat and stared at the ceiling. The adrenaline had finally burned off. What remained was… weight. Heavy, unpleasant, lodged somewhere behind his ribs and cranium.
"So," M'Baku said, tone shifting. "Did you get what you came for from the woman? Cindy Moon."
Felix's fingers stopped tapping. "Yes," he said after a moment. Then quieter, more to himself than to the phone, "Yes. I did."
M'Baku waited for more.
Felix exhaled through his nose. "Can I ask you something again? Sorry if you're cold but…"
"You may."
Felix's gaze drifted to the dark window. His reflection stared back at him, distorted, older than he felt. "What do you do with someone who's… broken. Someone buried in tragedy. Someone who's trying to do good, but their idea of good is… wrong. Or at least different enough that people get hurt."
Silence stretched.
"Do you kill them?" Felix continued. "Because their views don't line up with yours? Do you tolerate them and hope they don't cross a line? Do you use them? Team up with them? Or do you stop them now, before they become something worse?"
The jet hummed steadily around him.
M'Baku finally spoke thoughtfully. Felix was starting to realize he always spoke thoughtfully, and not slowly."You ask this because you fear what they may become."
"Yes."
"And because you fear what you may become if you choose wrong."
Felix closed his eyes. "Yeah."
M'Baku inhaled. "Once, I believed strength alone decided such things. That the world bent to those who struck hardest."
Felix remembered that version of him. The revolutionary. The would-be king-slayer.
"I tried to kill T'Challa," M'Baku continued. "I believed Wakanda needed a different future. That I was that future."
"And now?" Felix asked.
"And now I am alive because someone saved me," M'Baku said plainly. "Someone chose to see an enemy as a potential ally."
Felix turned quiet.
"I do not have an answer for you," M'Baku went on. "Only this: revolutions fail when they stand alone. I failed because I had strength, conviction… and I had allies but not enough of them. Not enough to pull me back." A rueful edge entered his voice. "Perhaps if I had more, I would have chosen better. Maybe."
"...maybe."
Which was the bells started ringing in his head, literally.
Felix straightened. "I've gotta go."
"Is it finished, then?" M'Baku asked.
"For me?" Felix said. "No. Not even close. But, before I hang up, M'Baku, I need you to tell Felicia something."
"I am listening."
"This phone, her phone is about to receive instructions," Felix said. "Routes. Accounts. Dead drops. Tell her to follow them exactly. She'll receive her payment then."
"I will tell her," M'Baku said. "And Felix—"
"Yeah?"
"You did not ask the wrong question."
Felix nodded once, though M'Baku couldn't see it. "Thanks."
He ended the call and set the phone down just as he put on the Advanced Glasses again. Two detailed emergencies bloomed in his vision.
NORMAN OSBORN WAS ATTACKED. CZARINA REQUIRES ASSISTANCE. LOCATION: NEW YORK CITY MORTUARY. NORMAN OSBORN MANAGED TO GET AWAY WITH THE HELP OF CZARINA.
His eyes widened. Norman was attacked? And Czarina helped him escape? He put a hand to his forehead, swallowing and watching the satellite imagery appear.
'It's him. It has to be.'
A LIMO CAR WITH DARK TAINTED SHIELDS WAS IDENTIFIED VIA SATELLITE IMAGERY. LOCAL CAMERAS WERE DISABLED. HOWEVER, I MANAGED TO INTERCEPT A RADIO TRANSMISSION.
The audio pierced his eardrums in the iconic buzz of a radio transmission. "Get the car ready. We're heading back to base. I have what I came for. Maybe open some champagne."
That was Harold. The cadence and the subtle sadism brimming underneath, it was him. He laughed and then…then started coughing? He cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Ahh, dammit. Get lots of champagne ready."
He cleared his throat once more before the radio feed cut.
Harold—the Devil, the Auction Master, the Red Goblin. This was him. His fingers twitched.
'The coughing…can't be a coincidence. No, it just can't. Is he sick or something?'
That would explain the urgency of everything he did. It may even explain why researchers discarded him in the way they did. Cindy didn't want to rationally admit it as his mother—thinking him as a perfectly healthy son—but there might have been something wrong with Harold.
Text appeared on his glasses again. Any thought on the theory was replaced by something more. Something bigger.
VIA SATELLITE, I HAVE BEEN TRACKING THE LIMO. AND IT APPEARS THE AUCTION MASTER IS MEETING UP WITH BRUCE BANNER.
'Bruce? What? What could he possibly want from Dr. Banner?' Harold had been taught by Cindy Moon directly. He was among the smartest on Earth, no doubt, capable of reverse-engineering multiversal technology—which Cindy in particular specialized in.
"How long till contact?" he asked in a whisper.
FIVE MINUTES, MASTER FAETH.
How long for the plane?
TEN MINUTES.
This…this might turn out badly.
"Cameras. Satellite imagery. Give me something, any—" His Spider-Sense lit up and he had to stop his whispers. A beat later, Yelena opened the bathroom door. She was sighing, sad. She didn't hear a thing. She didn't realize Spider-Man was freaking out.
"Gonna take so long to regrow my hair," Yelena grumbled. She had cut her hair a little more to frame her face better. "Anyway, how's everything with M'Baku and Felicia?"
"Yeah, uh, just gave them a route to the money and stuff."
"And you?" Yelena sat across from him. "I don't mean to pry and you don't have to tell me but…as friends, it'd be nice to know what you learned from her."
"I learned…"
FOUR MINUTES.
Felix sucked his breath at the countdown. What the hell could he do?
"...I have to get to New York. ASAP. Herbie? Hit it."
Suddenly, the jet lurched. Yelena went wide-eyed, gripping the arms of her seat while the jet slowly steadied itself. "Woah! That big a deal?"
"Yeah, that big a deal. Could mean a lot for New York City."
Yelena smiled. "Well, I'm glad. Honestly, thought this was going to a complete cluster fuck. I mean, if just one thing went wrong…poof. All of us dead. Or arrested. Or on the FBI most wanted."
A relived smile matched her. He didn't know what to say, not with the cameras dashing on his Advanced Glasses. The Spider-Bots were always near Bruce. There was no doubt for satellite imagery. There was no need for cameras that the Red Goblin could disable. Felix…Felix was relieved.
'Finally…all that caution, all those Spider-Bots are paying off. I got you now, Harold.'
He was going to get a nice eyeful of their meeting.
***
The abandoned electronics store sat like a rotting tooth between two derelict warehouses, its brick façade cracked, its windows papered over from the inside with yellowing posters that promised LOW PRICES from another decade. Above the entrance, a broken neon sign flickered weakly.
CIRCUIT BLITZ.
Only half the letters still worked. The rest sparked intermittently, bathing the sidewalk in sickly blue and pink light before plunging it back into darkness.
Not that anyone cared. There were places in New York still needing repairs. Still needing an eye on it. This was a nothing burger from a store.
Which was precisely why Bruce Banner lived here.
He stood behind the counter now, tall, thin, shoulders tight beneath a worn jacket. His hair was longer than it should have been, unkempt. His eyes—sharp, brilliant, exhausted—tracked every shadow in the room. Up in a ventilation shaft, there was a spider.
His paranoia was not unwanted. Oh yes, he was being watched at all times. He just never thought it was the ants and spiders that were doing the observations.
Click!
His head snapped up. The door…! It was opening…! He saw the first black boot and panicked.
"S-stores closed. Leave, please!"
The boots crossed the threshold anyway and a figure stepped into the neon's flicker. He was tall, wrapped in a long scarlet coat. The fabric looked too heavy for the season and too thick to be fashion. Black gloves tipped with claw-like ridges flexed once at his sides.
And then there was the mask, scarlet and goblin-like. Bruce mistook it for being a devil, but no, he knew better. This was a goblin with those ember-bright eyes burned behind narrow slits.
Bruce felt something cold slide down his spine.
"It's our appointed meeting! At long last, we meet, Dr. Banner!"
His name. He knew it. Bruce glared. What was there to be afraid of anyway? "This meeting wasn't scheduled and I don't appreciate surprises."
The masked man chuckled. "Oh, I know. That's what makes it special."
Bruce enjoyed the counter between them. "Who are you?"
The man gave an exaggerated bow, coat flaring slightly. "I go by many names. Professionally, I am the Auction Master of the Emporium Auction House." He straightened, grin widening. "But you may call me the Red Goblin."
Bruce's jaw tightened. "You picked the wrong man."
"Oh, on the contrary," the Goblin said lightly. "I picked the perfect one."
Bruce's eyes narrowed. Men like him were arrogant up until they were punched in the face.
The Goblin tilted his head, mock-thoughtful. "I've always admired your work, Dr. Banner. Gamma radiation, adaptive cellular enhancement, controlled suppression." A pleased hum. "Really inspired stuff."
Bruce didn't move—but something deep inside him stirred.
"You don't know me," Bruce said.
The Red Goblin laughed. "I know you better than you think. In fact…" He tapped his own chest. "You helped make me."
Bruce squinted. "And you are…?"
"Come on, you might as well be my father. You know, it is quite disappointing that people don't know me. Then again…hah, I suppose it's what happens when you're too mysterious," the Goblin mused. "My mother was very… thorough. Cindy Moon. Brilliant woman and I heard one of your best friends? I mean, I saw some of your letters and, buddy, there were a lot of those letters."
Bruce stiffened despite himself. The Red Goblin noticed immediately.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Bruce said, though his voice was tighter now.
"That's okay," the Goblin replied cheerfully. "Understanding is optional."
He reached into his coat and withdrew something small. It was a silver pendant.
Bruce's eyes flicked to it despite himself. "What is that?"
"A little device built by Harry Osborn. You've heard of the boy, I'm sure. Probably think he's pathetic but trust me, he wasn't. No, no, no, he arranged something that shocked even me. A secret that, I suppose for a thing like you, would be very bad. Very, very bad."
".....what the hell are you talking about?"
"You're interested! Excellent!" He held the pendant up, loud and proud. "Want to know what this secret does then?"
"I don't." Bruce's pupils flashed green. "Leave. Now."
The veins running down his neck and forearms were thrumming green. The Red Goblin cocked his head. He could feel it too. The transformation. The power. The Hulk.
"Ha...now this is interesting. What's faster, you transforming into that beast or me exposing you to the great Osborn secret? I'm very eager to find out."
Bruce's green eyes became darker. "Me too…Goblin."