Masters' bomb shelter is a fortress compared to my college dorm. I drop our duffel bag onto the metal table, the hollow clang echoing through the underground space like a church bell. My new eye, the one Ellie's symbiote created for me, still feels strange, but I'm getting used to it.
"Wow, Sensei," I whisper, taking in the arsenal lining the walls. "Were you planning for the apocalypse?"
Master's doesn't answer, just moves to a massive flat screen mounted on the concrete wall and flicks it on. News footage flashes across the screen, more coverage of the Toni Stark scandal, creating a wash of blue light across the stainless steel and concrete of our new hideout.
Ellie prowls the perimeter like a caged tiger, the symbiote rippling just beneath her skin. I can feel her eyes on me every few seconds, checking, making sure I'm still here, still whole. As whole as I can be, anyway.
"Listen up," Task says, her voice cutting through my thoughts as she turns from the TV. She's removed her skull mask, and her severe features look even harder in the harsh fluorescent lighting. "Osborn is obsessed with Shane, and she seems far more manic than I'm used to. I honestly think you're safe here, but we should probably kill her as soon as possible."
The way she says it, like she's suggesting we order pizza for dinner, makes my stomach twist. Six days ago, I would have balked at the idea. Now, I just nod.
"How should we do it?" I ask, my voice sounding hollow even to my own ears.
Masters tosses her gear onto the metal table with a heavy thud and plops down in a nearby chair, running a hand through her short, military-style hair.
"Osborn isn't hard to get ahold of," she says casually, leaning back. "As long as she doesn't think I've crossed her, I can get a meeting anytime. She believed me enough to let me in on the Boomerang plan." She shrugs, like what she's about to suggest is the most logical thing in the world. "I'll probably just set up something with her in her office and put a bullet between her eyes right there. Clean. Simple. Done."
"No," I say firmly, surprising myself with how steady my voice sounds.
Masters raises an eyebrow. "Why the fuck not? It's the best option."
"I want to do it." The words leave my mouth before I can even process them. "I need to be the one."
Masters rolls her eyes, exhaling sharply through her nose. "Revenge is an empty game, kid. Trust me on this one."
"No." I shake my head, feeling something dark and unfamiliar bubbling up inside me. "I want to do it."
She studies me for a long moment, her eyes narrowing. "Have you even killed before?"
"No," I admit. "But I can do it." I glance toward Ellie, who's been silently watching our exchange. "And if I can't do it, Ellie will. I want Norma to know pain. I want her to feel the fear she put into me. I want her to feel helpless."
My mind races with possibilities, each one darker than the last. I look at Ellie again, a terrible idea forming. "Maybe we should kidnap her daughter, Harriet, and torture her. Let Norma know what it feels like to…"
"Woah, woah, woah, kid!" Masters interrupts, sitting up straight, genuine alarm crossing her usually stoic face. "No way."
"You're the moral police all of a sudden?" I scoff, surprised by the bitterness in my voice.
Masters raises her hands defensively. "No, of course not. I've killed plenty of innocent people." She shrugs like she's discussing her grocery list. "I'm just saying I don't think it's a good idea for you."
Ellie puts a hand on my shoulder, her touch gentle but firm. "Come on, Shane. Let's not involve someone innocent. Harriet hasn't done anything to you."
I turn to her, betrayal stinging sharp and hot. "You've eaten innocent people."
"That was before we had you," she says sternly, her blue eyes holding mine with surprising intensity.
I sigh, running my fingers through my hair. "Harriet will probably turn evil if her mom dies anyway. It's a net positive if we kill both of them."
Masters lets out a sharp laugh that bounces off the concrete walls of the bunker. "Let's just start with Norma," she says, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. "And if Harriet becomes an issue later, I promise I'll help you deal with her. Alright?"
I stare at her for a long moment, surprised by her willingness to compromise. "You've really been helping me out a lot," I say quietly, the realization hitting me harder than expected. "Like, a lot more than I deserve."
Something softens in Masters' expression, a crack in her usually impenetrable armor. "Yeah, well," she shrugs, looking almost embarrassed, "it's kind of fun to have something to fight for, for once."
Ellie's head snaps up, her blue eyes narrowing dangerously as she stares at Masters. "I swear to god if you try to…"
"Relax, Ellie," Masters cuts her off with an exaggerated eye roll. "I don't want to take your property away from you."
Ellie slides closer to me, her arm wrapping possessively around my waist. I lean into her touch, my body melting against hers as a sense of belonging washes over me.
"Shut up, Task," Ellie mutters, but there's no real heat behind her words.
Masters just smirks and turns back to the television, cranking up the volume. The screen shows Toni Stark standing at a podium in front of the Avengers Tower, cameras flashing as reporters shout questions. Her usually immaculate appearance is slightly disheveled, dark circles visible beneath her eyes despite her makeup.
"Ms. Stark! What's your response to the photos?"
"Is it true you were involved in Epstein's trafficking operation?"
"Were other Avengers aware of your connection to Jessie Epstein?"
Stark raises her hands, silencing the crowd with practiced authority. "I want to address these allegations directly," she says, her voice steady despite the pressure. "I am deeply embarrassed to be associated with such a monster. My presence on the island was strictly professional, I was there for a scientific conference on genetic research that was also attended by many respected colleagues, including Dr. Stephanie Hawking."
"I consider myself a person of science," Stark continues, her voice catching slightly. "But I failed to see what was happening right in front of me."
I watch her performance with detached fascination. The way her eyes glisten with perfectly timed tears, the slight tremble in her voice, it's masterful manipulation.
"In light of these revelations," Stark continues, her voice growing stronger, "I'm announcing today that the Stark Foundation will be establishing a dedicated fund of fifty million dollars specifically for the victims of Jessie Epstein's crimes."
The crowd of reporters erupts with noise, cameras flashing frantically.
"This money," Stark raises her voice over the clamor, "will cover all legal expenses for victims seeking justice, as well as provide ongoing support for their recovery and rehabilitation. It's the least I can do to help repair some of the damage that was done."
A reporter shoves her way to the front of the crowd, microphone thrust forward. "Ms. Stark! Will you be stepping back from your duties as Iron Woman and your role with the Avengers while this controversy unfolds?"
Stark's expression hardens, the vulnerability vanishing like it was never there. "Absolutely not. The world needs the Avengers now more than ever. My personal controversies have nothing to do with my commitment to protecting this planet." Her voice drops to that famous Stark growl. "I will continue to serve as Iron Woman for as long as I'm needed."
Something about her performance scratches at my brain, a familiar pattern that feels important somehow.
"Has she tried to start the Civil War yet?" I ask suddenly.
Masters cocks an eyebrow, turning toward me with confusion written across her face. "What?"
"Has she tried to get superheroes to sign up for governmental permission and oversight?" I clarify, gesturing at the screen where Stark continues her damage control. "You know, make heroes register with the government?"
Ellie bursts out laughing beside me, the sound echoing off the concrete walls of our bunker. "What the fuck? No!" She shakes her head, blonde hair swinging with the movement. "Of course not. That would be a complete shit show."
"Interesting," I murmur, leaning back against the cold metal table.
Ellie studies me with narrowed eyes. "Why would you ask that? Is that something from your 'prophetic dreams' again?"
"Something like that."