"It's my fault…"
Captain America staggered back a step, chest heaving as the weight of the situation pressed down on him. The cold air of the shattered station mixed with dust and lingering frost, but none of that registered as much as the thought looping in his head.
"If I'd handled that better… maybe the Butcher wouldn't have walked."
Regret came late, but it came hard.
Steve had always believed in doing the right thing, in trusting that people could be reasoned with if you just found the right approach. Somewhere between suspicion and caution, he'd chosen the wrong move. He'd treated Locke like a threat first, a teammate second—and now the gap between them had widened into something far more dangerous.
But even then, he couldn't stop himself from thinking of a better outcome.
"We were on the same side," he muttered, tightening his grip on the shield strap. "That hasn't changed."
At least, he wanted to believe it hadn't.
Barriers could be broken. Misunderstandings could be cleared up. That was how it worked between people who had fought side by side. That was how it had to work.
No friendship was beyond repair.
That thought hadn't even fully settled before reality slammed back into him.
A blur of black and teeth and claws tore across his vision.
The monstrous form of Spider-Man hit him like a freight train. Steve barely had time to bring his shield up before the impact launched him off his feet. His body smashed into the ground, air blasting out of his lungs as pain rippled through his chest.
He coughed hard.
Blood hit the floor.
Before he could recover, the creature was already on him again.
There was no pause. No hesitation. No recognition.
Just relentless aggression.
Steve rolled to the side, shield scraping against concrete as he forced himself back up, but the pressure didn't ease for a second. Every strike from the symbiote-enhanced Spider-Man carried crushing force, fast enough that even Steve's enhanced reflexes struggled to keep up.
This wasn't a fight.
It was survival.
"Tony…" Steve gritted out, slamming his shield up again to deflect another blow. "How much longer?"
For a fraction of a second, there was nothing.
Then—
The ceiling shook.
Missiles screamed down from above, cutting through the air in a tight formation before detonating on impact. The explosion lit up the station in a violent flash of fire and smoke, the shockwave blasting outward and forcing even the monstrous Spider-Man back a step.
A metallic figure dropped through the aftermath.
Landing smooth.
Controlled.
The armor gleamed even under the dust and debris, red and gold cutting through the gloom like a declaration.
Iron Man had arrived.
The helmet retracted with a soft hiss, revealing Tony Stark's face beneath it. He glanced around once, taking in the damage, the chaos, the massive black creature clinging to the wall like something out of a nightmare.
"Right on time," he said casually.
Steve pushed himself upright, ignoring the ache in his arms as he re-secured his shield. "I need your help," he said quickly. "We've got a superpowered individual out of control."
Tony followed his gaze.
Then paused.
His expression shifted.
"You're calling that a superhero?" he asked, genuinely skeptical.
Across from them, the symbiote-enhanced Spider-Man dug its claws into the wall. Metal shrieked under the pressure, steel plating tearing open like paper as jagged holes appeared where his limbs pressed through.
Light filtered in through the damage.
The thing turned its head.
Its eyes—if they could even be called that—held nothing human.
Tony tilted his head slightly. "Yeah… I'm not convinced."
Steve didn't get a chance to argue.
The creature moved again.
Another hit.
Another launch.
Steve's body lifted off the ground and spun through the air before slamming hard against the far side of the platform. Pain shot through his arms, his grip faltering for just a second as his shield rattled against the floor.
Without Tony stepping in, this was going to end badly.
Very badly.
Unfortunately, Tony wasn't moving yet.
He hovered slightly above the ground, watching, analyzing, his attention more focused on the creature's structure than the immediate danger to his teammate. His sensors flickered, scanning, measuring, dissecting.
"How many limbs is that now…" he murmured, almost to himself.
Steve hit the ground again, anger flashing across his face.
"That idiot…" he hissed under his breath. "He thinks this is a lab experiment."
It took a few more seconds—and another near miss—before Tony finally seemed to decide he'd seen enough.
"Alright, fine," he said, shifting position. "Let's dance."
The suit responded instantly.
"Whoosh—whoosh—whoosh!!!"
A barrage of micro-munitions fired in rapid succession, streaking through the air and detonating around the creature in a controlled storm of explosions. Flames curled outward, forming a temporary wall of fire that forced the symbiote back.
Under that suppression, Steve moved.
He surged forward, shield raised, slamming it against nearby metal structures with precise timing. The impacts created sharp, resonant vibrations that echoed through the station, each strike adding to the chaotic noise.
The effect was immediate—but not decisive.
The creature recoiled slightly, its movements twitching, agitated.
Then it got worse.
Much worse.
The symbiote reacted violently, its form swelling and shifting as it lashed out with even greater force. It didn't retreat—it escalated. The attacks came faster, heavier, more erratic, like something pushed beyond irritation into full-blown rage.
Tony had the advantage of altitude.
Steve didn't.
"Boom!!!"
Another hit sent him flying backward, arms trembling as he struggled to absorb the impact. He landed hard, boots scraping against the ground as he forced himself upright again, breathing heavier now.
"Did I get it wrong?" he muttered, mind racing despite the chaos. "Is it not the sound…?"
He glanced at the shield, then back at the creature, trying to piece together a pattern.
"It reacts," he said slowly. "But it's not enough. Not on its own."
Understanding flickered.
Then hardened.
"I've got it," Steve said, pushing forward again. "It's close combat. We disable the limbs, we take away its mobility, and it goes down."
It was a solid theory.
In practice?
Not so much.
Tony provided covering fire, beams and projectiles hammering the creature as Steve closed the distance again. The shield struck, deflected, redirected—but for every piece of damage they dealt, the symbiote simply… reformed.
Instantly.
A torn limb sealed itself in seconds.
A blasted section of its body flowed back together like liquid.
There was no lasting damage.
Ten minutes passed.
Then more.
Nothing changed.
Tony's voice cut in, edged with irritation. "You were the best soldier of your era, right? You sure about that?"
Steve didn't respond immediately.
He shook his head once, stubborn as ever. "The conclusion isn't wrong," he said. "We just don't have enough force to make it stick."
He looked up at Tony.
"How about you try something bigger?" he suggested. "Missiles. Full impact. Overwhelming force."
Tony blinked.
"Excuse me?"
"Only overwhelming power can break something like this," Steve added.
Tony stared at him for a beat.
"Wow," he said flatly. "That's your plan."
…
While the two of them were locked in a losing battle underground, things above the city had taken a very different turn.
Locke moved fast.
Once he broke away from the station, there was no hesitation, no second-guessing. He guided Sandman through side streets, avoiding attention, cutting through the city with precision until they reached their destination.
A hospital.
Clean.
Bright.
Expensive.
The kind of place where life had a price tag attached to it.
Sandman didn't waste a second.
The moment they stepped inside, he rushed to the counter, hands shaking slightly as he handed over the money. The staff reacted with surprise at the amount, but they didn't question it—not when it meant a patient could stay, could be treated, could survive.
Arrangements were made.
Bills were covered.
A surgery date was set.
Next week.
For the first time in days—maybe longer—Sandman felt like he could breathe.
When he turned back, Locke was still standing there, quiet, watching without interrupting. There was no smugness, no expectation, no visible demand for anything in return.
Just presence.
That was enough.
The man's legs gave out.
Sandman dropped to his knees.
His eyes were red, voice rough as emotion caught up with him all at once. "You saved her," he said, the words breaking slightly. "You saved my daughter."
Locke frowned faintly, almost uncomfortable with the intensity of it.
"I didn't do much," he said simply. "You were the one who took the risk."
That only made it worse.
Sandman shook his head hard, emotion spilling over. "No," he insisted. "Without you, I'd be dead. She'd be dead. Everything would've ended back there."
His hands clenched against the floor.
From this moment on, the line was drawn clearly in his heart.
Loyalty.
Absolute.
"You're my brother now," he said hoarsely. "My partner. Whatever you need, wherever you go—I'm there. No hesitation."
The sincerity in his voice wasn't something that could be faked.
And the system responded.
[Ding! Mission complete: Sandman's Wish fulfilled.]
[Ding! Calculating rewards…]
[Ding! Reward acquired: Wind and Cloud – Demon Blade.]
[Ding! Target affinity has reached maximum threshold. Reward multiplier activated.]
[Ding! Additional rewards granted: Naruto – Mangekyou Sharingan.]
[Ding! Additional rewards granted: Naruto – Indra's Kekkei Genkai.]
Locke's eyes flickered slightly as the information settled in.
Then he smiled.
"Not bad," he murmured.
"Buy one, get two free."