The park was still alive with laughter, soft sunlight reflecting on the lake nearby as Zayne sat quietly on the bench. The cool wind brushed through his hair, the faint chatter of children echoing all around him. He was relaxed — something rare these days. His mind was calm for once, the tension from constant fights and planning ebbing away bit by bit.
He leaned back slightly, exhaling. Maybe I needed this more than I thought.
Families dotted the park — parents chasing their kids around the playground, couples walking hand in hand, people laying out picnic sheets while laughter filled the air. Zayne couldn't help but smile faintly, the corners of his lips curving up gently as he watched a father lift his son high up into the air, both of them laughing wholeheartedly.
A faint, nostalgic warmth spread through his chest, but then it twisted.
"How I wish my parents had stayed longer to have fun with me," he muttered softly, his voice barely audible beneath the sounds of life around him. His gaze softened as memories flickered — the face of a mother who used to smile even when tired, the firm yet gentle voice of a father who used to guide him. His lips trembled slightly as he whispered, "Mom… Dad… I miss you so much."
For a few seconds, silence took over him. He stared blankly ahead, his reflection shimmering faintly on the lake's surface.
A sudden sound broke him out of his thoughts — thud!
A football rolled right next to his shoe. Zayne blinked, looking down, and a small boy — maybe five years old — ran up toward him, panting slightly.
"Uh—sir! Can I have my ball back?" the little boy asked politely, though his voice wavered nervously.
Zayne smiled kindly, picking up the ball and tossing it in a perfect arc. "Catch."
The boy caught it perfectly, his face lighting up. "Thank you!"
Zayne waved slightly. "No problem, champ."
The boy grinned wide and ran back to his friends, who immediately started another round of play. Zayne chuckled quietly, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. He watched the scene quietly — kids running around, giggling, tripping, and getting back up like the world was nothing but joy and endless tomorrows.
But then, amidst the vibrant colors, his eyes caught something that stood out — a little girl sitting alone by the swing. Her head hung low, her fingers fiddling with the dirt below. Her expression… Zayne recognized it instantly.
That silent sadness. That empty stare trying to hide pain.
Without hesitation, he stood and walked toward her, his footsteps calm and soft. He stopped beside her and crouched down so they were eye level.
"Hey there," he said gently.
The girl flinched, startled, before slowly looking up at him. Her eyes were slightly red, her small face showing traces of tears that had dried but not faded. "Um… Sir, what's your name?" she asked timidly.
Zayne raised a brow, amused. "Aren't you supposed to be scared of strangers?"
The girl huffed, puffing her tiny cheeks. "Only bad people are scary. You don't look like a bad person."
That line hit Zayne harder than expected. He blinked once before laughing — a warm, genuine laugh that drew the attention of a few parents nearby. "You're pretty bold, huh?"
The girl smiled faintly. "Mommy said I should always trust my heart."
"Smart mom."
Her face dimmed immediately. "…She's gone."
The air fell silent. Zayne's smile faded slightly, replaced by something softer — sorrow mixed with empathy.
He sat down beside the swing, not saying anything at first. After a short pause, he asked quietly, "Why aren't you playing with the others?"
Her small shoulders trembled. "They said… they said I don't have parents. That I'm weird." Her voice cracked, and then, just like that, the tears came again.
Zayne's heart clenched. He sighed softly and, without hesitation, gently pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her small frame. "It's okay," he murmured. "You're not weird, kid. You're just strong enough to be different."
The girl cried into his chest for a few seconds, hiccuping quietly. Then, after calming a little, she looked up and asked in a broken but hopeful tone, "Sir… you're so kind. Would you be my dad?"
That question hit him like lightning. Zayne froze, eyes widening slightly as he stared down at her. Dad? He was only eighteen — he barely considered himself an adult yet. His mind blanked for a few seconds before he mentally sighed. I'm only eighteen… I don't want to be a dad just yet.
He managed to smile, though. "How do you know I'm kind?" he asked, trying to divert her.
The little girl didn't even hesitate. "I can feel it. You make me feel… warm and happy inside."
Her words were innocent, yet somehow profound. Zayne blinked, studying her face more carefully. White hair strands with faint traces of silver shimmered under the sunlight. He immediately used the grid to check what it was. Seconds after, he instantly recognized the faint energy signature radiating from her. "She's a mutant," He thought to himself. The grid then displayed her ability.
[X gene identified.
Ability Animal Empathy-Beta (Currently evolving)]
"Hmm, so she's a mutant and a rare evolvable one."
Zayne asked her. "What's your name?"
She immediately replied. "My name is Nina. Nina Gurzsky
"Damn… she's Magneto's daughter.
But where's her mother? he wondered. She's supposed to be protecting her."
He exhaled quietly and smiled down at the little girl again. "How about this — I'll think about it, okay? Then I'll give you an answer later."
The girl's expression fell immediately, her eyes glistening again. "Promise?"
Zayne chuckled lightly, raising his pinky finger. "Promise."
Her face instantly brightened. She hooked her tiny pinky with his and yelled happily, "Yay!"
Zayne smiled again, genuinely this time, watching her laugh. The warmth of that smile lingered even after she ran back to the other kids — and soon, to his quiet relief, the other kids started including her again, cheering and playing together.
He leaned back against the swing's pole and exhaled softly, eyes half-closed. For some reason, his chest felt lighter.
But that warmth wouldn't last forever.
--- ✦ ---
(General POV — Oscorp Laboratories (Hidden Research Wing)
Night.Rain poured heavily over the tall skyscrapers of New York, lightning occasionally slicing through the dark clouds. Inside a heavily secured facility, a man with disheveled hair and a desperate look in his eyes paced back and forth.
Norman Osborn.
Once a proud visionary and leader of Oscorp, now stripped of his position by the very board he built from the ground up. His hands trembled as he stared at the data tablet, filled with rejection emails and legal threats.
"They think they can take everything from me," he whispered hoarsely, eyes twitching with barely contained rage. "My company, my legacy—my life's work!"
His breathing was uneven. His reflection in the glass showed the faintest shadow — a smirk, twisting unnaturally, whispering back.
Then take it back.
Norman's pupils dilated. "Who said that?"
You know who I am, the voice growled darkly. The part of you that doesn't care for consequences. The part that wants revenge.
Before Norman could respond, his tablet buzzed. A new message appeared — an encrypted communication link flashing a sigil he didn't recognize. A mechanical, serpentine voice echoed through his speakers.
"Norman Osborn. I have been observing your… misfortune," the voice hissed. "But I can give you something far greater than your old position. Power. Knowledge. A cure for your disease… and access to the Morphin Grid."
Norman's eyes widened. "Who are you?"
The voice chuckled — cold, deep, and reptilian. "You may call me… Mesogog."
Norman hesitated, mind racing. The rational part of him screamed no, but the bitterness of failure burned hotter. "If what you say is true… show me."
Moments later, Oscorp's hidden chamber opened a blinding portal. Norman stepped through without looking back.
He appeared in a dimly lit lair, filled with glowing runes, machines, and bubbling vats of unknown energy. The air was thick, charged with something unnatural. Mesogog's reptilian form appeared from the shadows, his red eyes gleaming, not wasting time at all.
"Welcome, Norman Osborn. Step into the Chamber of Mutation. And be reborn."
Norman stared at the towering capsule in front of him. Inside, green energy pulsed like living fire. His reflection stared back at him — a man at his end. He clenched his fists.
"If this fails, what happens to me?"
Mesogog hissed with amusement. "If it succeeds… You will never fear death again. If it fails...oh well, it's simple, you die. It's your choice to risk it all or play it safe."
As Norman heard this, he hesitated. But after a minute, he thought to himself.
"What do I have to lose? I've lost everything and I'm going to die soon. Harry, please don't hate your father for this. I'm doing this for you, and I'll take back everything they stole from me."
Additionally, his evil counterpart was almost driving him insane, as it said.
"Do it, Do it, Dooooo itttttt!"
Norman exhaled sharply and stepped in. The chamber sealed with a hiss, and the room went silent. For a moment, there was nothing — then, suddenly—
"AAARGHHHHH!"
The scream echoed through the lair as the chamber lit up with bright green and purple light. His body convulsed violently, veins glowing as the energy tore through his cells. Flesh twisted, armor formed, his mind fracturing as his darker self screamed in triumph.
The chamber's glass shattered. A figure stepped out — towering, armored in green and black, with sharp claws and a long tail. Its yellow eyes burned with bloodlust.
Norman was gone.
Only his evil counterpart, the Goblin, remained.
The creature threw its head back and let out a deafening roar that shook the entire lair — a sound of rebirth, madness, and hunger.
And somewhere far away, Zayne opened his eyes suddenly, sensing unease, but it disappeared as quickly too
"…I must have been too tired."
He closed his eyes again, expecting to sleep anytime soon
--- ✦ ---
Another chapter in. We are basically going to explore Zayne as a person in the coming chapters.