The night began like any other.
Lina — Star Inferna — and Spider-Man moved through the New York skyline like two streaks of motion: one of web, one of flame. The city glittered beneath them, unaware that two heroes kept its heart beating.
Their mission tonight was simple, at least on paper — stop a tech-smuggling ring that had been stealing Stark Industries equipment. But as Lina soon learned, nothing involving advanced weapons and the underworld ever stayed "simple."
They landed on a rooftop overlooking an abandoned warehouse by the docks. Through the broken windows, they could see a group of men loading strange glowing crates into vans.
"Okay," Spider-Man whispered, sticking to the side of a water tower. "You take the left side. I'll web the exits. Try not to—"
"Burn the place down. Yeah, yeah. I know." Lina smirked, her eyes faintly glowing.
He gave her a sideways look. "I was gonna say, try not to punch through the floor again. But sure, that too."
They moved as one.
Spider-Man dropped first, webbing the nearest guards before they could react. Lina burst through a skylight above, landing in a storm of fire and smoke. The smugglers scattered in panic as she unleashed precise bursts of hellfire, melting weapons before they could be fired.
Everything was going perfectly — until one of the crates cracked open.
The glow inside wasn't tech. It was magic. Pure, unstable energy.
Lina's flames reacted instantly, flaring out of control. Her veins lit like molten metal, and her eyes turned gold.
Spider-Man's voice echoed through the chaos: "Star! Pull back!"
"I—I can't!" Lina screamed. The fire consumed her hands, her dress, her very shadow. The warehouse shook under the heat. "It's too much!"
He didn't hesitate. He swung through the flames, wrapped his arms around her, and fired a web line to the nearest open window. Together, they crashed through it, rolling onto the docks as the building erupted behind them.
Lina gasped, clutching her chest. "It's— it's inside me. I can feel him."
"Mephisto?"
She nodded, trembling. Her voice came out broken. "He's trying to come back."
Spider-Man didn't say another word. He scooped her up and shot another web into the night sky. "Hang on, Star. I know someone who can help."
---
The journey felt endless. Every swing brought another flicker of fire in Lina's veins. She could hear Mephisto's laughter echoing through her mind.
> "You can't run from me, little star. You were born from my flame. You are my flame."
"Shut up!" she shouted, but the words came out warped, half-demonic.
By the time they landed outside the Sanctum Sanctorum, Lina was barely conscious. The air shimmered with heat around her. Spider-Man pounded on the heavy doors.
"Doc! Open up! It's an emergency!"
A moment later, the door creaked open, revealing the calm, composed figure of Doctor Stephen Strange. His cloak fluttered as if in irritation.
"Spider-Man," he said. "I was hoping this late-night visit would involve something less… infernal."
"Sorry, Doc. She's— she's connected to Mephisto. And he's trying to pull her back."
Strange's expression hardened. "Bring her in."
---
The Sanctum's main chamber filled with the sound of chanting. Strange stood within a glowing circle of runes, hands weaving complex symbols through the air. Lina floated in the center, her body surrounded by black and orange flames that writhed like living things.
Spider-Man watched anxiously from the edge of the circle.
"Can you save her?" he asked.
Strange's voice was calm, but heavy. "She made a contract with one of Hell's most cunning entities. Breaking that connection without destroying her is… delicate work."
Lina screamed as Mephisto's voice thundered through her mind.
> "You think the Sorcerer Supreme can unmake me? Foolish child! You chose this power!"
Strange's eyes flared with golden light. "Begone, Mephisto. Your reach ends here."
The runes expanded, glowing brighter until the entire room shook. Spider-Man stepped forward but the cloak of levitation blocked him with a firm push.
"It's been two hours," he muttered, pacing. "Come on, Doc. Please."
Inside the circle, Lina's body convulsed as the flames began to separate — two energies pulling apart: one infernal, one her own. She gasped, her voice mixing with Mephisto's roar.
> "No! You can't—"
And then, silence.
The fire dimmed. The circle faded. Lina collapsed, smoke rising gently from her skin.
Strange exhaled, lowering his hands. "It's done."
Spider-Man rushed forward, catching her before she hit the floor. "Star! Hey, talk to me!"
Her eyes fluttered open — still glowing faintly gold. But the air felt lighter, cleaner. The constant whisper of Mephisto was gone.
"…He's gone," she whispered. "I can't feel him anymore."
Strange nodded. "I severed the connection between your soul and Mephisto's realm. You're free."
Spider-Man grinned under his mask. "That's my girl."
But then Strange's tone turned serious. "However… the power remains. It has fused to your spirit. Whatever Mephisto gave you, it's part of who you are now."
Lina looked at her hands. A tiny flame flickered to life, bright and steady — no longer wild, no longer whispering.
"It's mine," she said softly. "For the first time… it's really mine."
---
Later that night, as the two heroes stood outside the Sanctum, the city's lights reflected in the puddles around them.
"You did good, kid," Spider-Man said. "No strings attached anymore."
Lina smiled faintly. "No more whispers. No more chains. Just… me."
He nudged her shoulder. "Guess that means you're officially one of us now. The 'don't-make-a-deal-with-a-demon' club."
She laughed — a quiet, real laugh. "You're the president, right?"
"Co-president," he corrected. "You've earned the title too."
They stood there for a while, side by side, watching the city breathe.
For the first time since the night her parents died, Lina felt at peace. The fire inside her no longer burned to destroy — it burned to protect.
Somewhere far below, a siren wailed — another cry for help.
Spider-Man looked at her. "You ready?"
Lina's eyes glowed gold again, but this time, with purpose. "Always."
And together, they leapt back into the night — a web and a flame crossing the dark skyline, bound not by blood, not by contracts, but by choice.