The Next Day:
School resumed after the winter break. I honestly couldn't tell you a single thing that happened during classes — I do remember Harry glaring at me, but Felicia and I were entirely preoccupied making eyes at each other for most of the day. People were visibly surprised. They hadn't known we were dating. Well, they did now.
One genuinely exciting thing came out of the day, though: I finally got to take a driving lesson. I was only fifteen, so this was strictly practice, but getting behind a wheel — even just for the experience — felt overdue.
After school I went to the SHIELD bunker, where I found Natasha waiting for me in the conference room. Two folders sat on the table in front of her. She looked up and narrowed her eyes the moment I walked in. Right. What had I done this time?
"You apprehended a drug trafficker and filmed it," she said. Oh. That.
I shrugged, tossing my bag on the table. "In my defence, I had absolutely no idea Daves was going to meet Marcelle. I just happened to be in the right place and decided to take a closer look."
"And you didn't think to call the police?"
"Didn't want to risk Daves running."
"And the video?"
"Evidence — in case Fury tried to bury it."
"And involving your girlfriend?" She raised an eyebrow.
"...I'll admit that part was for fun," I chuckled.
Nat rubbed her temples. "At least you're honest. Fury was furious about the stunt you pulled. He demoted the analyst who helped you identify John Travis."
"So Fury was...furious?" I chuckled.
Nat growled. "God give me strength." She picked up one of the folders and slapped it on the table in front of me. "Here. You wanted a mission — you've got one. Against my recommendation, Fury believes you're ready. Enjoy."
"Your enthusiasm is truly infectious, Master Romanoff," I said drily. I picked up the file and read through it carefully.
There were reports of children going missing across the West Bronx — mostly homeless kids or those from very poor families, so the disappearances had gone largely unnoticed publicly. SHIELD had flagged it, as had the FBI, though the Bureau lacked the resources and frankly the will to pursue it. It wasn't a priority for them. But now SHIELD had me.
I memorised the details. The children targeted were between twelve and sixteen, with some younger. Various backgrounds, different ethnicities — no obvious pattern there. Notably more girls than boys, though I couldn't draw conclusions from that yet.
I looked up at Nat. "Are you coming with me?"
She shook her head. "No. This is your mission, and yours alone."
"So that means you'll be shadowing me from a safe distance to make sure I don't make a catastrophic mistake. Good." I ignored her thin smile and turned back to the file. "Right — just to be completely clear on my objective: what exactly am I trying to accomplish here?"
"Can't you read?"
"I'd like to hear it from you."
"Find the missing children. Save them. Detain everyone involved and contact SHIELD. Understood?"
"Any methods I want?" I asked.
"Within reason. And that means no posting it to Instagram," Natasha said flatly.
"Alright then." I put the folder aside and took off my coat. I pulled my shirt off, revealing my deactivated suit underneath. I fitted my mask and activated it — the helmet snapped into place around my face. I slipped on my web gauntlets and hit the arc reactor. The suit came alive, black web patterns spreading outward from the centre.
"I didn't realise you'd worked out Stark's technology," Nat said, looking my costume over with a raised eyebrow. Right — this was the first time she'd actually seen the full suit.
"Yeah," I nodded. "Worked it out last December."
"He's not going to be happy about that," she said, allowing herself a small smile.
"You think he'll try to sue me?" I asked, slightly concerned.
"No — he'll probably just be furious that a fifteen-year-old cracked his technology in what, a month?"
"About that, yes. Though I had a head start — I pulled a functional arc reactor off one of those Hammer drones. That helped enormously."
Natasha blinked. "When did you — never mind." She stood up. "Call me if it goes wrong. I need to report to Fury." She walked out.
---
I left the bunker and swung across the city toward the Bronx. Darkness was settling over New York — I could feel the streets shifting into their night-time rhythm. I stopped a mugging on the way to West Bronx but kept it brief. I couldn't afford distractions tonight.
I reached the area with the highest concentration of reported disappearances — eight blocks of dim streets and deteriorating buildings. The people here were poor or homeless, and the fear in the neighbourhood was palpable. I could feel it in the way people moved — in the curtains that twitched, the eyes that darted. This community had noticed their children were vanishing.
I moved quietly through the streets, night vision active at all times, scanning everything. Nothing would get past me tonight.
As I kept watch from the rooftops, fragments of conversation drifted up from the buildings below.
"This neighbourhood isn't safe anymore. We need to get out."
"Daddy, I'm scared."
"I'm in love, man — she's totally the one."
"Maybe the world could use one more police officer."
I did my best to stay focused and let the voices wash past me — though a few gave me pause. One in particular, coming from a ground-floor apartment: a father's voice, raised and ugly. Something was very wrong in there.
It kept pulling at me as I moved from rooftop to rooftop. The father's voice getting louder. A boy crying. A woman pleading.
I wanted to stop it — and just as I'd made up my mind to drop down, the front door burst open and the boy ran out.
"Get back here!" the father came charging after him, belt in hand.
"George, stop — please!" The mother held him back with both arms.
"Get off me!" He slapped her hard across the face, sending her staggering.
I narrowed my eyes. I dropped down. "Hey!" He spun toward me, eyes going wide. "Pick on someone your own size." I drove a short, controlled jab into his stomach — just enough to knock the wind clean out of him without doing serious damage.
He folded to the ground clutching his midsection. I turned to the woman. "I'll find him and bring him back. I promise."
She blinked, face wet with tears. "T-thank you."
I nodded and went after the boy. I followed the direction he'd run — an alleyway. I checked every hiding spot I could think of: behind bins, in doorways, down drainage inlets. He'd kept running and hadn't stopped.
I eventually came out onto the main road and scanned my surroundings. There was a small park across the street. If I were a frightened child trying to get as far from home as possible, that was where I'd go.
I ran inside and started searching. I was almost at the centre of the park when I heard a cry — "Help! Someone help me!"
The boy. I spun and ran toward the sound. I reached the far side just in time to see a white van accelerating away into the dark. The kidnappers. They had him. I had to follow.
I jumped to the nearest telephone pole and leaped from one to the next, tracking the van in the distance. They were driving fast, but I kept pace, staying back in the shadows.
They drove for the better part of an hour — crossing the city, doubling back, clearly checking for a tail. They nearly spotted me several times. I climbed building walls and pressed into the darkness wherever I could, staying in places no one would think to look.
Finally they stopped in front of a building in Hunts Point — wedged between a farmer's market and a warehouse. Deliberately ordinary. Deliberately forgettable.
The garage doors opened and the van rolled inside. Through the gap I caught a glimpse of armed men in full black gear — military bearing, military equipment. This was not what a child kidnapping ring looked like. Something was very wrong. I needed to be careful.
The building was three floors high with tinted windows. I went up to the roof and began searching for an entry point. The air vent I found was too small to fit through.
With no alternative, I crawled down the exterior until I reached a small window. The scent coming through it — bleach and ammonia. The bathroom. I coated the glass carefully with a thin layer of webbing, then pressed my palm against it and steadily increased the pressure. The glass cracked. The webbing held every piece in place and muffled the sound. I pulled the webbing out like a sheet and stuck it neatly to the wall, then climbed through.
The bathroom was empty. Good.
I slipped into a stall and waited. About ten minutes later, someone entered — a woman, by the sound of her heels on the tile. Perfect. And also, I realised, rather unfortunate, given that I'd just broken into a women's bathroom. No time for awkwardness, though. Time to work.
She leaned against the sink and exhaled — the kind of exhale that means someone is not having a good day. I clocked her quickly: blonde hair, blue eyes, shorter than me by a few inches, and visibly exhausted.
I slipped out of the stall and cleared my throat. "Hello there."
"What the —" I webbed her mouth before she could finish. She grabbed at the webbing in panic.
I covered the stall door with webbing, then gripped her by the collar and lifted her off the floor with one hand. "You're going to tell me what I need to know. If you lie to me, I'll know. Do you understand?"
She struggled, eyes wide with fear. I grabbed the wash basin and slowly crushed it in my grip, breaking it down to rubble. She stopped moving and stared at me in horror as I gradually increased the pressure of my grip.
"I could kill you without a second thought. So tell me what I want to know."
She nodded.
I lowered her into the stall and closed the door. I took the webbing from her mouth and treated it with a dissolving compound — something Sue had recommended I keep handy. Good thing I'd listened.
"What is this place?" I asked, keeping my voice low and hard.
"I — I don't know! None of us do, not really. We were brought in by a large company and told to run tests —"
"On children?" I growled.
The way she paled told me I'd hit the mark. "I didn't know — not at first. For months we were just perfecting a formula. We had no idea what it would be tested on. When I found out I refused — but they threatened my family. I had no choice."
I understood her fear. But I also understood guilt when I saw it. She felt it — and that meant she might help me.
"Tell me everything, and I'll make this stop. Tonight. Every child gets out, and every scientist who was coerced the same way you were — they get out too."
"You can't," she said, looking at me with something between guilt and anguish.
"I can. And I will."
"No — you don't understand. You can't save them," her voice broke. "Because they're all dead."
The air went out of me.
All those children. Every one of them. Gone. I had come here to save them and they were already gone. I couldn't process it. I couldn't move.
"Monsters," I managed.
"We are," she said. She didn't try to defend herself.
I breathed through the guilt. If I'd had just one more day. One more day and maybe one family's world wouldn't have been destroyed. And then I remembered the mother standing in the street, tears on her face. Her boy was in that van. That boy was still alive. There was still time.
"Tell me everything," I said quietly.
"We were all recent graduates," she began. "Geneticists from top universities around the world. We were recruited and asked to replicate a formula — some kind of genetic enhancer. We didn't know what it was designed to do, but the science was compelling and the pay was exceptional. About two months ago, we cracked it."
Two months ago — that was when the disappearances started. "What happened next?"
"They brought in the children." She looked sick. "So many of them. They made us inject the formula directly. The goal was to make them...beyond normal human capability. But something went wrong every time. They all died."
I felt the familiar, cold edge of controlled fury. "Did anyone participate in this willingly?"
"No," she said immediately and without hesitation. "No one."
"Then why continue?" I couldn't fully keep the anger out of my voice.
"Because they threatened every single one of us. Our families, our lives."
I looked at her carefully. She was frightened and ashamed, but not dishonest. "How many guards in the building?"
She looked surprised at the change of subject. "Ah — ten on each floor. Thirty in the basement."
"What's in the basement?"
"The gas chamber," she swallowed. "We couldn't deliver the formula by injection anymore — the subjects reacted violently. So we switched to airborne delivery. The children are held down there."
"It's alright. You don't have to say it." I stopped her. "What's your name?"
"Betty. Betty Cooper," the woman said quietly.
I blinked. "Like the Archie Andrews comics?"
She let out a short, bewildered laugh. "Yeah. I'm always surprised when people catch that. I didn't think superheroes read comics."
"Woman, I basically am a comic," I said. She laughed again, and for just a moment everything felt slightly less impossible. I took a breath. "Betty, I need your help."
She looked alarmed. "Me? What could I possibly do?"
"You have files. Records of every experiment conducted in this building."
"Yes — we all do."
"I need them. My employers sent me here to investigate — I thought this was a kidnapping ring, but this is far bigger than that. I need documented evidence so that the people who forced you to do this can be tracked down and held accountable. Help me do that."
She looked conflicted for a long time. Then she looked up at me, eyes set with something resolute. "I'll do it."
I nodded. I kicked the stall door open. "Good. Now — let's go save that boy."
Betty led me to her laboratory. I hacked into the system and downloaded the building's schematics onto my data pad. We then split up: she went for the main data storage, while I headed for the basement.
I moved quickly through the corridors. Three guards ahead. I dropped from the ceiling and hit the one in the middle squarely in the back, launching him forward.
"What the —" The one on the right barely got the words out before my fist connected. My left leg took care of the third with a sharp knee to the face. I webbed all three to the wall before my phone rang.
I answered it on speaker. "You're on speaker."
"Why? Isn't this supposed to be a stealth mission?" came Natasha's dry voice.
"It was. Now it's more of a 'get to the basement as fast as possible' kind of situation." I webbed two more guards around a corner and sprinted for the elevator. "Spider, is there something you'd like to tell me?"
"Yeah — tell the Director he should have had someone on this the moment the first child went missing." The elevator descended. "Someone has been running genetic experiments on these children. Trying to induce some kind of mutation. Every scientist in this building is working under duress. Every child they've tested on so far is dead — except possibly one, and I am not letting him die."
"Spider, wait for backup," Natasha said sharply.
"No," I said simply. "It's now or never. I'm sorry, Widow, but I'm not the kind of person who stands by and lets a child die." The elevator slowed. "Send people to my position. Go easy on the scientists — the guards are another matter."
"Fine, Spider," she sighed. "Just...don't die. Alright?"
"I promise," I said, and hung up as the doors opened. Two guards stared at me.
"What the —" I grabbed them both and pulled them inside. The doors closed. When they opened again, I was the only one who walked out.
I moved through the darkness of a long, dim corridor. According to the building schematics there should be a large room at the far end. I found it quickly, but it was sealed with a digital lock — no key override.
Luckily, I had exactly the right tool. I took out the Oscorp decoder box I'd salvaged from Rhino's crew and pressed it against the panel. The machine whirred quietly through sequences — and then the door clicked open.
I pocketed the decoder and slipped inside.
The room was like something out of a villain's handbook. Machines and screens covered the walls. Scientists moved between workstations studying calculations. For every scientist there were two armed guards with automatic rifles. And in the centre of the room, a sealed glass chamber with an unconscious boy inside — pipes running into it from every angle.
The boy appeared unharmed. Asleep, if not for the circumstances.
I climbed silently toward the rafters.
"When will it be ready?!" A man's voice boomed from a raised platform at the front of the room. He was older — Vietnam era, by the look of him — and built like someone who had spent those years earning every scar on his body. His right arm was entirely mechanical.
"W-we are just finalising the formula, sir. Just a few more seconds — it could improve the survival rate by twelve percent," a thin man standing beside him said nervously.
"Twelve percent? That's nothing."
"Y-yes, but it is something significant. The child might actually survive this time, and —"
"Your job isn't to save worthless test subjects!" The old soldier slammed his metal fist into the railing, buckling it. "Your job is to provide results!"
"Y-yes, sir! I understand, but —"
"Start the experiment! Now! Or do you need a reminder of what I did to your predecessor?"
"N-no, sir! We'll start immediately! Charles — get everything ready! Experiment thirty-two begins now!"
"Yes, Dr. Lang!" a younger man nodded and moved toward a large red button.
I couldn't wait any longer.
"Hold on!" I dropped from the rafters and landed in the centre of the room, drawing every pair of eyes in the space. The silence was total. I gulped. "So...lovely weather we've been having, isn't it?"
"What in the hell is Spider-Man doing here?!" the old soldier roared.
"Stopping this!" I reached into my belt and pulled out a web grenade — a cartridge that on impact detonated into expanding webs. I threw it directly at the main control bank. It hit and spread instantly, seeping into every gap and circuit in the machinery.
"He's destroying everything!" the old man roared. "What are you waiting for — shoot him!"
The guards recovered from their shock and opened fire. My spider-sense went into overdrive and I dodged the barrage, moving fast, angling deliberately toward the glass chamber.
"Let's see if you can hit me!" I taunted. The guards fell for it completely — they kept shooting, and I kept dodging, and the bullets shattered the glass chamber.
"No! Stop, you idiots!" the soldier howled as the room erupted into chaos and the scientists scattered.
"Thanks for the help!" I called out, vaulting toward the wall. "I genuinely wasn't sure how else I was going to get him out of there!"
Then I stopped paying attention to where I was going. A bullet punched through a pipe just beside my mask. A burst of green gas enveloped me and everything immediately went wrong — vision blurring, balance dissolving, my legs going rubbery beneath me. I dropped to the floor.
"You fools — you've killed us all!" Dr. Lang bellowed as he and his assistants ran for the exits.
I tried to get up. The gas was leaking out across the room — it would reach the boy. I couldn't let that happen. Not after everything.
I pushed myself to my feet. The guards had already run — cowards. I looked at the broken pipe through heavy, swimming eyes and raised one hand. I blinked hard, fighting the blur, and fired a stream of webbing over the rupture, sealing the gas leak completely.
"Impressive," came a voice.
I looked up. The old soldier was still on his platform, looking down at me.
"You didn't run," I said.
"People who were exposed to that gas died within seconds," he replied. "But not you. You're an extraordinary asset."
"Not your asset. Not anyone's," I managed. "Least of all someone who murders children."
"Sacrifices have to be made," he said with a shrug, and then peeled off his armour to reveal a body underneath that would have given even Thor pause — pure muscle, weathered and scarred. He rolled his mechanical arm. "One chance, Spider-Man. Stand with me and we can change the world."
"Not happening," I said. My legs were steadying, very slowly.
"Fine. Then I'll extract your secrets from your body." He charged, right arm raised — the metal palm folding open into a broad blade.
Under normal circumstances I would have danced around him for ten minutes, gathered intelligence, and worn him down. I didn't have ten minutes.
I raised my hand and fired a repulsor blast directly into his mechanical arm. The blast tore it apart at the joint. He swung the stump at me — it connected with nothing. He blinked.
"Simple," I said. "I'm Spider-Man." I shot a web line across his mouth, grabbed him by the collar, swung him up into the air, and pinned him to the wall with the hardest webbing I could produce. He hung there, immobilised.
I turned to the boy. He was stirring — slowly coming around. I wasn't looking forward to the next part.
I lifted him carefully onto my back and took the elevator up to the ground floor. As I walked toward the exit, I saw flashes of red and blue through the building's windows. Please let that be SHIELD. Please.
I walked out and found the scientists and remaining guards already being restrained by agents in black suits bearing the SHIELD emblem. Standing in front of me, one eyebrow slightly raised, was Fury himself.
"And here I thought we wouldn't be running into each other again," I said weakly. The gas was creeping back. I thought I might faint.
"I didn't expect this, I'll admit," Fury replied. "Thirty-two children kidnapped and experimented on, and we had no idea."
"Thirty-one," I said.
"What?"
"Thirty-one." I lifted the boy carefully off my back and called an agent over, transferring him into her arms. "He's had a rough home life. When you return him, make sure someone has a word with his father. Firmly."
The agent looked uncertain. She glanced at Fury, who simply sighed and nodded. She left with the boy, and I turned back to Fury.
"Are you here to fire me?" I asked.
He raised an eyebrow. "Why would I?"
"I didn't wait for backup," I said, leaning against a telephone pole. The gas was definitely affecting me again. Please don't let this be how I go.
"You did what you were instructed to do," Fury said. "It's not your fault the intelligence was so badly wrong." He rubbed his eye. "You're not fired. In fact, I'm here to acknowledge your first completed mission."
I smiled faintly. "Noted. You should speak with Betty Cooper — blonde woman, and no, I'm not making up the name. She has all the files on what was happening in there. Everything you'll need."
Fury nodded. "I'll find her." He paused, studying me. "Are you alright? You look done in."
"I was exposed to the gas in there — the same compound they used on the children. I don't think it'll kill me. My blood has a way of handling things like this. But I'm exhausted." I swayed slightly. "Maybe just a short rest..."
"What you need is a proper doctor," Fury said firmly.
"So you can run tests on me while I'm unconscious? I'll pass," I chuckled.
"This isn't a joke, Spider," he growled.
"Fine." I sighed. "Call Susan Storm. She knows my blood work better than anyone else on the planet. If anyone can help, she can. Call her. Now."
Fury nodded. "Done. Anything else?"
I chuckled weakly. "Well, since you're offering — any chance I could get one of those combat suits your agents wear? And make it a woman's size." Fury raised his eyebrow. "Please don't ask me why."
"I have a feeling I'm going to regret agreeing to that," he muttered.
"Yeah, you just —" And then my legs gave out completely and I went sideways. My helmet hit the pavement. I felt nothing. Fury's voice reached me as a low, muffled thing through the helmet and I didn't have the energy to follow it. I just needed to sleep. That was all. Just a little sleep.
Yeah. That's what I needed.