---
Chapter 13 – Blades in Disguise
(Adrian POV)
The glow of runes lit my room like starlight. On the desk before me lay the items I'd spent the last week pouring my energy into:
Bracelet of Mending (weak): quickens clotting, closes cuts, helps with bruises. Fragile, but enough to keep me standing in a scrape.
Ring of Resistance (weak): holds back minor toxins, everyday venoms. Not miracle-grade, but enough to buy precious seconds.
Charm of Shellskin (weak): cushions blows. Won't stop a bullet, but dulls the edge of fists and sticks.
Pendant of Breath (weak): calms the lungs, regulates breathing. Perfect for endurance.
All four were just training wheels. The plan was to discard them as I grew strong enough not to need them. But for now, they'd keep me alive.
I exhaled, closing the notebook that held sketches of stronger versions.
Tomorrow… things change.
---
Friday – The New Gym Teacher
The auditorium buzzed with idle chatter until Principal Coulson stepped onto the stage.
"Students," he said with his usual calm gravitas. "Midtown High is proud to welcome a new addition to our faculty. He'll be leading our physical education program, with a focus on discipline, teamwork, and resilience. Please welcome Mr. Bowman."
The man who walked in looked… ordinary. A gym teacher tracksuit, whistle around his neck, clipboard in hand. Brown hair cropped short, strong jaw, steady posture. He smiled faintly.
"Call me Coach," he said, voice level. "We'll start light today. Just a little test to see what you've got."
The groans around the room were immediate. But he wasn't kidding.
---
The Test
Push-ups. Sit-ups. Sprints. Balance drills. Reaction drills.
He watched us with eagle eyes, jotting notes with each stumble, each slip of form.
Flash Thompson stumbled early—he was all show, no stamina. Harry Osborn huffed through the sprints, clearly not used to this kind of grind. Danny Rand moved with practiced efficiency, controlled, calm.
Me? I held steady. Years of my past life's training and my recent regimen made the test almost routine.
At the end, Coach blew his whistle. "Four of you stand out," he said. His eyes swept across us like blades. "Rand. Osborn. Thompson. And you—" his gaze landed on me, "—you're interesting."
I stiffened slightly but stayed quiet.
"Saturday. Extra training session. Gym. Don't be late."
The bell rang. Everyone shuffled out. But as I glanced back, for a fraction of a second, Coach's eyes were too sharp. Too calculating.
Like a predator behind a mask.
This is Taskmaster, I realized, my chest tightening. But nobody else sees it.
---
Saturday – The Gym
The gym was quiet, lit only by fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. Mats stretched across the floor, basketball hoops looming in the background.
Harry and Flash whispered nervously. Danny stood calm, arms folded. I flexed my fingers inside my sleeves, feeling the faint hum of the enchanted bracelet.
The doors opened.
Coach walked in. But his posture was different. The easy smile was gone. The whistle and clipboard discarded.
"Good," he said. "You came."
His voice was lower. Sharper.
Then he tossed the tracksuit jacket aside. Beneath it: dark armor, plated and lean. A skull-like mask locked into place. Sword. Shield. Holsters.
My throat dried. Here we go.
"I'm not here to coach you," Taskmaster said. "I'm here for Spider-Man. One of you knows where he is. Maybe one of you is him. So…" He raised his sword. "…let's find out."
---
The Split
Harry's face drained white. "This—this is insane!"
Flash stammered, "H-hey, I didn't sign up for this!"
Both bolted for the doors.
That left me and Danny.
Danny slid into a stance instantly, fists coiled. His eyes flicked to me, reading me in silence.
I exhaled. My first real villain fight. No chi. No revealing my hand. Just me.
I clenched my fists. "You'll regret picking me first."
Taskmaster tilted his head, mask expressionless. "We'll see."
---
The Fight – Adrian vs. Taskmaster
The first strike was a blur of steel.
I ducked, feeling the sword whistle over my hair, and snapped a jab into his ribs. My fist met his shield with a jarring clang.
He countered instantly, shield edge snapping toward my face. I twisted, taking the hit across my shoulder instead. The Charm of Shellskin flared, dulling the impact just enough.
I shot a low kick toward his knee. He caught it. Twisted. Threw me.
I rolled, sprung back up, and drove forward with a flurry of punches.
"Boxing base," Taskmaster murmured mid-fight. "Mixed with karate footwork. Tight guard. You're trained."
I ignored him, sliding inside his guard and aiming an elbow strike for his jaw. He blocked with frightening ease, then copied my elbow strike and sent it back twice as fast.
CRACK.
Pain lanced across my cheek.
I staggered back, chest heaving, but I didn't stop. Every blow I landed, he mirrored. Every combo I tried, he stole, perfected, returned.
Minutes blurred. Sweat dripped into my eyes. The Bracelet of Mending burned faintly, keeping me on my feet despite the mounting bruises.
Ten minutes…
That's how long I lasted before his boot slammed into my ribs and his shield caught me across the temple.
Stars exploded. My body gave out.
Through the haze, I heard him mutter, "Not you. You're skilled. But not Spider-Man."
And darkness took me.
---
Danny's POV
I watched Adrian fall, body hitting the mat hard.
He lasted ten minutes. Ten whole minutes against Taskmaster without powers. His form, his instincts, his endurance—he wasn't normal. Not at all.
Adrian… you're hiding something.
Taskmaster turned to me. "That leaves you."
Fine.
I dropped into stance, and this time, I let the chi flow. Golden light flared around my fists. Heat pulsed through my veins, steady and sure.
Taskmaster paused, tilting his head. "Interesting."
We clashed. His sword against my glowing fists. His shield ringing against my strikes. Each clash was heavy, brutal, shaking the gym floor.
But his skill… his mimicry… it was suffocating. Every technique I used, he adapted. Every strike I landed, he countered with precision.
I pushed harder, faster. Chi blazing brighter.
But then—his shield smashed against my ribs. His boot found my chest.
I slammed against the wall, vision fading.
The last thought before darkness: Adrian definitely has a martial background. More than he lets on. But why hide it?
---
Outside – General POV
Meanwhile, the battle spilled outside. Spider-Man and White Tiger faced Taskmaster under the glow of parking lot lights.
The story unfolded like the show: Taskmaster's precision, his obsession with Spider-Man's moves, the two young heroes barely holding their ground until he finally retreated.
The mission incomplete.
---
Aftermath – Adrian POV
I woke groggy, head pounding. My bracelet flickered weakly, nearly spent.
Danny stirred nearby, his arms faintly glowing before dimming down. He didn't look at me, but I caught the question in his eyes.
He knew I wasn't normal. But he didn't ask. Not yet.
I pressed a hand to my ribs, wincing. Taskmaster's words echoed in my head. Not you.
He was right. I wasn't Spider-Man. But I also wasn't strong enough to matter. Not yet.
If it weren't for the weak enchanted items, I'd have been finished in under five minutes.
I clenched my fists.
"I can't rely on miraculous trinkets forever," I whispered to myself. "I need to be strong enough to stand alone. To fight on equal ground. To survive."
Sunday, I'd begin.
Warriors of the past. One by one. Until I was competent enough. Until I didn't need shortcuts.
Until I was strong enough to fight men like Taskmaster without fear.
---