The night deepened over Twisting City. The moon hovered high above, casting pale silver over silent rooftops and glowing streets. Most of the city had surrendered to sleep. But in the underbelly of the metropolis, the darkness was alive.
Drug deals were underway in alleyways. Smugglers unloaded unmarked crates by the river docks. Robbers prowled side streets. In some neighborhoods, the only rule that mattered was strength—and the gangsters ruled by it.
At the center of it all stood a towering, thirty-story office building—sleek glass, polished metal, and a glowing emblem that masked its true purpose. This was the headquarters of the King Group, a supposedly legitimate conglomerate headed by Grant King. By day, he was a refined businessman rubbing shoulders with politicians. By night, he remained the undisputed kingpin of the city's underworld, pulling strings from the shadows.
Tonight, that tower had drawn unexpected attention.
From the shadows between skyscrapers, a figure in red and blue swung silently through the night sky. Gwen Stacy—better known as Spider-Woman—landed deftly on the rooftop. Her heart pounded, not from fear, but anticipation.
"This is it," she whispered under her breath. "Time to put all that 'Oasis' experience to work."
She had been honing her skills in the simulated worlds of the Second World's Oasis game for weeks. Each mission, each encounter with AI-controlled criminals, had refined her instincts. And if there was one thing she had learned, it was this: small-time criminals are a distraction. If you want to make a difference, go for the leaders.
Take out the head, and the body collapses.
Her eyes scanned the rooftop. "No alarms. No movement. Good."
She crouched low, preparing to slip inside.
Suddenly—her spider-sense flared.
A ripple of energy lit up just meters away. A dimensional doorway opened with a hiss, shimmering with faint violet light.
"Eh?!" Gwen jumped back instinctively, her web-shooters primed.
From the portal stepped five figures.
"Phoenix?!" Gwen blurted, stunned.
Across from her, the red-haired mutant paused. "Spider-Woman?!"
For a heartbeat, the two stared in confusion—then recognition clicked into place.
"You're here for Grant too?" Phoenix asked, arching a brow.
"You too?" Gwen replied.
Phoenix exchanged a look with her companions. "Why not work together?"
"Uh... sure?" Gwen said, still unsure of what exactly was happening.
Before Gwen could say more, Phoenix stepped forward, casually tossing four metal discs that locked into the rooftop's corners. With a motion of her hand, the access door blew open with a soft metallic groan.
"Wait, I thought we were being stealthy!" Gwen whispered urgently.
Phoenix smirked. "Don't worry. From this point on, nothing that happens in this building is going to leak out."
She turned and descended the stairwell, her team following in silence.
"And we're not just here for evidence," Phoenix added, her voice calm and steady. "We're the X-Men. We're here to make arrests."
Gwen hesitated—but curiosity and duty pulled her after them.
What followed was not a raid—it was a blitz.
They moved floor by floor, not creeping but walking openly, confidently. The top level—Grant's executive suite—was empty. But the level beneath was teeming with armed security.
A shout rang out: "Intruders!"
Before Gwen could react, a blur shot past her.
A woman in a black jacket, tall and lean, exploded into motion. In a matter of seconds, every guard was on the floor, groaning or unconscious.
"Whoa..." Gwen breathed.
The woman turned back and gave a razor-edged smile. "Call me Nightmare. Supersonic speed, and I like breaking knees."
Polaris, another mutant with short green hair and a sharp tongue, stepped forward next. She slid on a pair of high-tech glasses. "Alice, scan the targets."
"Confirmed," the glasses replied in a smooth, female voice.
With barely a motion, metal paperweights, pipes, and structural frames bent and twisted into restraints, locking down every thug in sight.
Then came Blink—twin daggers strapped to her legs. With a flick of her hands, portals opened beneath the restrained bodies, sending them in flashes of light to the rooftop above, where extraction drones waited.
Gwen could only watch, stunned.
"They know everything," she murmured. "They're not guessing—they're purging."
"They should," came a voice beside her. Shadowcat had been recording everything on a slim handheld device. "Every one of these dirtbags is wanted. Drug lords. Arms dealers. Contract killers. The whole King Group is a crime syndicate masquerading as a corporation."
Gwen didn't reply. The scale of the operation was staggering. She had never seen justice delivered with such precision.
They moved downward.
Floor after floor, the scene repeated—confrontation, subjugation, extraction. The group moved like a well-oiled machine. Within thirty minutes, nearly every room had been cleared.
When they reached a reinforced wall on sub-level 4, Polaris grinned.
"Found the elevator," she said, tearing open the hidden mechanism.
This was it—Grant King's true base of operations.
The elevator dropped them into a dimly lit corridor. Before the doors even opened, the sound of machine gun fire erupted.
Dozens of armed guards opened fire.
"Finally," Nightmare grinned. "Something challenging."
She blurred forward again.
Phoenix's eyes flashed, locking onto the real threats in the back.
"Bullseye. Prowler. Cyborg. And a few unknown Mutants," she muttered.
"Joseph was right," Polaris said, raising a magnetic shield. "Grant's been hiring enhanced criminals."
Joseph.
That name caught Gwen's attention. She remembered now—Joseph was the founder of the Second World Company, the one who saw Mutants not as threats, but leaders of a new age.
And now his team was dismantling one of the most dangerous criminal empires in the city.
Explosions echoed through the base.
Outside, across the city, other plans were unfolding.
At the New York headquarters of The Hand—a shadowy, ancient organization rooted in corruption and blood—Daredevil stood in the cold wind, gripping his guide stick tightly.
"You really want me to walk in there alone?" he asked.
Wolverine lit a cigar, exhaling a slow stream of smoke. "Evelyn Shaw isn't even inside. Just her goons. You've been tangling with them for years—you know their tricks better than anyone."
"I'm not like you, Logan. I don't have a healing factor. They have ninjas trained for this kind of ambush."
Wolverine turned to him and lowered his voice.
"You don't have to be here. You're just an adjunct professor at Joseph's school now. He didn't order you to be part of this. He gave you the choice."
Daredevil fell silent.
But he couldn't walk away. Not now.
The Hand had haunted him for years. He had sacrificed too much. Tonight, it would end.
"I'll take the west entrance," he said finally. "Give me thirty minutes."
Wolverine nodded. "We'll be waiting."
Behind them, Iceman, Sunspot, and Colossus stood quietly, eyes burning with anticipation. They had waited long for this—their first mission under Joseph's leadership.
A coordinated strike against Evelyn Shaw's ancient empire.
They wouldn't fail.
Back inside Grant King's base, the tide was turning.
The enhanced enforcers were powerful—but they were no match for coordinated mutants trained by Joseph himself.
Nightmare blurred through enemies, breaking weapons and bones alike.
Polaris sent steel beams flying with flicks of her fingers.
Blink opened dozens of portals, scattering enemies across the city in pre-marked cells.
Phoenix walked calmly through the chaos, every step crackling with psychic power.
And Gwen—Gwen stayed close, watching and learning.
This was not just justice.
This was revolution.
And the old world, ruled by fear and corruption, was collapsing floor by floor.
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