Chapter 94

  Arc 7 - Ch 11: On The Surface

  Date: Tuesday, August 30, 2011.

  Location: House of M, Manhattan, New York

  As Tysoered House of M, Maria Hill was already waiting for him. He had lost all track of time. It had to be after midnight. This felt like the lo day of his life, and the grim expression on Hill's face told him that it wasn't over. "I know you said you ime. Seems you've been busy," she began, her voice clipped and professional, "and it looks like you have your hands full, but we have a situation."

  "What happened?"

  "The RAFT was hit while you were gone. Osborn and Kraven escaped."

  Tyso his head fall back, and a long groan escaped his lips. "How?"

  In response, Hill pulled out a tablet and opened security footage. Tyson leaned in to watch the se on the small s.

  "The imposter," he muttered, reizing the figure dropping from the ventition. "And Rhino and Scorpion? Where the hell did these guys e from?"

  As the words left his mouth, his memory shifted to his internship at Oscorp aing Mac Gargan that first day. Aleksei Sytsevich had been his boss; he still remembered the man's gruff voice as he focused on his magazines during Tyson's night shifts. It'd been months since he went to his internship at Oscorp, and now that he'd been outed, he'd likely never be wele inside again.

  Shaking off the thoughts, Tyson focused oter at hand. He couldn't reveal his metaknowledge without raising suspis with SHIELD's deputy director. Instead, he asked, "So they broke Osborn out. Did we look into Oscorp?"

  Hill's response was immediate. "Squeaky . We vassed the security camera footage from that entire neighborhood. They didn't inate from Manhattan at all. We tracked their approach from Brooklyn."

  "Brooklyn?" Tyson muttered, fused.

  He mentally ticked off the pyers:

  Green Goblin,

  Rhino,

  Scorpion,

  Kraven,

  and Kaihe Imposter.

  He muttered, "Five."

  Hill's eyes narrowed, catg his thoughtful expression. "Does the number make a difference?"

  Tyson nodded slowly, a sinking feeling in his gut. "I have a feeling there's going to be one more."

  With a grim expression, he mumbled, "I o warn Spider-Man."

  Hill's eyebrow arched. "Spider-Man? Care to fill me in on what's going on in that head of yours, Smith?"

  "Six. I have a feeling there are going to be six of these guys. A team of Spider-Man's enemies, brought together to take him down."

  "And you think Osborn is putting this team together?" Hill asked skepticly.

  "Maybe," Tyson admitted.

  Hill studied him for a long moment before nodding. "Alright. I'll trust your judgment on this. But don't think this versation is over. The higher-ups are breathing down our necks about your activities, and I only run interference for so long."

  "I know, Deputy Director. And I promise I'll give you a full debrief. I need a few more hours to get this situation under trol, and then I'm all yours. But I give you some quitel right now." He pointed out the Rhino and Scorpion in turn. "Aleksei Sytsevid Mac Gargan. I remember them from my internship at Oscorp."

  She replied, "Good enough for us to get started."

  As Hill turo leave, Tyson called out, "Oh, Deputy Director, send someoo che Dr. Otto Octavius. He was injured during the Stark Expo, and I have a feeling something is off about him." She waved in aowledgment as she tinued, leaving Tyson with his thoughts and the looming crisis.

  Ihe Ftiron Armory's arena, Morlocks huddled in groups with their fear and uainty pin on their faces. Many of them hadn't been on the surfa a long time. As he made his way through the crowded arena, Tyson wondered who the sixth member of this Sinister Six would be. Octavius seemed the most likely didate, but he'd been in a a sihe Stark Expo. Tyson o eter, coordih his team, and somehow mahis mess. All while a team of supervilins was on the loose in his city.

  He pulled out his phone and dialed Peter's number. It rang in his ear owice, three times before Peter's groggy voice finally answered on the fourth.

  "Tyson?" he mumbled with the rough voice of someone who'd been roused from sleep. "Oh man, it's so te. I'm sorry I fot to call you after we saved Gwen. I walked her home, aalked for a while, and it just slipped my mind."

  "Pete, it's fine. Jes… Spider-Woman told me what happened. Listen, we've got a big problem. I need you to wake up Aunt May and e to House of M."

  There ause oher end of the line, followed by the rustle of bedsheets as Peter presumably sat up. "What? Why?"

  "Osborn escaped from prison. Remember, he went after May st time. She'll be safe here."

  "Damn it," Peter cursed, fully awake now. "How do I expin this without revealing myself to her?"

  "Look, I got outed as Mirage earlier. Just tell her that I need her help. She's done work with shelters before, right? Well, House of M became a shelter tonight. I found a bunutants in the sewers; they're in bad shape, and I've got them all here. I e food and stuff." He paused. "Tell her there are people in need, and I'll pay her to coordihings here. And it's the truth. I do need help. This pce is like a refugee ter." As Peter mulled over his words, his mind jumped to another potential target. "Where's Gwen?"

  Peter's voice was tight when he answered. "She's home... You don't think they'd go after her again so soon, do you?"

  "Why not?" Tyson replied grimly. "Get May here. Osborn didn't go after Gwen st time. But the Imposter did, and he was the ohat broke Osbor of prison. I'll call her and try to get her and her family here too."

  Peter cursed again, the sound of drawers opening in the background indig he was already moving. "Alright, I'll get May. But Tyson, what exactly do you think we're dealing with here?"

  "It's big, Pete," he admitted. "Osborn, your imposter, Kaine, and two guys in what looked like aniimal-themed super-suits, one a Rhino, and one a Scorpion, plus Kraven the Hunter."

  Peter's sharp breath was audible evehe phone. "All of them? Together? That is bad. Really bad."

  "That's why we o get everyone we care about to safety. Osborne knows who you are, and now everyone knows who I am. Once everyone's safe, then we focus on taking these guys down."

  "Okay. I'll get May, ahere as soon as I ."

  "See you sooe," Tyson replied before ending the call.

  — Rogue Redemption —

  Peter arrived with May in tow. Tyson stood at the entrao the arena, watg their approach. He was unsure how May would reaow that she knew his secret identity. To his surprise, May waved Peter into the arena and approached Tyson with open arms.

  Peter paused at the door, his hand h over the door handle. Before his eyes, the bold letters spelling out "Arerance" rippled like water, and new words formed in their pce.

  "Get Gwen."

  He gnced back at Tyson. The taller man tipped his head slightly, wordlessly indig for Peter to slip away. After a brief moment of hesitatioer gave a slight nod. With o furtive look around, he eased the door open and slid inside, keeping to the shadows along the walls. Soon, he reached a side exit before stepping into the alleyway. The door closed noiselessly behind him, leaving no trace of his departure.

  "You poor dear," May said softly, enveloping Tyson in a hug, mindful of his skin. "You've been through so much today. Thank you for helping these people and for stopping Norman all those months ago."

  Tysourhe embrace gently. "Of course, Aunt May. It's what we do."

  May pulled back, her eyes twinkling with a knowing light. "You keep doing what you're doing. I'll take care of this." She leaned in, whispering, "Thank you for keepier safe."

  Tyson's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Did she know?

  May chuckled, "I'm old, dear, not blind."

  A genuine smile spread across Tyson's face. "Thanks for helping, May. I'll catch up when I . Spend whatever you o help these people."

  As May bustled off to the arena, Tyso a hand on his arm. He turo find Jessica with Felicia, who looked ed.

  "You o rest," she said.

  Tyson shook his head. "I go weeks without sleep. You rest. I o stop the Imposter and Osborn."

  "How?!" Felicia's voice rose. "Do you know where they are?"

  "I... No. But I 't just sit here and do nothing."

  Felicia stepped closer. "Tyson, you've been through too much today. You o stop and recover." For the first time, Tyson noticed the slight tremor in her hands. Her usual mask of cool indifference was slipping, revealing a vulnerability he rarely saw.

  "I'm worried fwen," he admitted. "I o stop them before they hurt someone we're close to."

  Felicia slipped into Tyson's arms as she spun to face away from him. Guiding his hands, she ed one muscur arm just below her colrbohe other at her slender waist. "Gwen is strong, right? As strong as Jessica or Spider-Man?" She asked leadingly.

  "But she's not a fighter. All the more reason to stop them now before they get to her," Tyson insisted.

  At those words, Felicia's demeanor finally shattered. She pressed closer, her body fitting against his sculpted frame. "Please, Tyson, don't go," she implored.

  With her back turo him, Tyson couldn't see Felicia's face. She shot Jessica a desperate look, saying, 'Help me vince him.'

  "I'll get Gwen," Jessiterrupted. "I'll make sure she's safe. Promise." She said as she took off.

  Tyson looked down at Felicia's white hair, still encircled in his embrace. There was an unfamiliar fragility to her. He'd never seen Felicia like this, her usual strength giving way to a raw, emotional vulnerability. She trembled almost imperceptibly as she awaited his response. Feeling her like this, the weight of everything that had happened began to press down on him.

  The battles, the death, the stant strain of holding it together.

  "I'm afraid of what's going to happen when I stop," Tyson fessed.

  "That's why you have all of us. I need yht now. And I think you need me, too. You don't o stop moving, but I need you to stay, please."

  "Okay," he whispered, allowing himself to lean on her. "I'll stay."

  — Rogue Redemption —

  The soft glow of a streetmp filtered through the curtains of Gwen Stacy's bedroom. She y motionless on her bed, deep in sleep.

  A sudden vibration broke her from her rest.

  She answered on the fourth ring, as the s dispyed it was Tyson calling. Before she could ask if he was okay, his words came through urgently.

  "Gwen, listen," his voice crackled through the speaker, "Norman Osborn's been broken out of prison. It was the imposter, but he wasn't w alone. We think they're ing after Peter... and maybe you too."

  Gwen sat up straighter. "What? How? When did this happen?"

  "Just a few ho," Tyson replied. "Look, I need you to get yourself and your family to House of M. It's the safest pce right now. Peter's already on his way."

  Gwen's eyes darted to her bedroom door, thoughts of her mother and brothers flooded her mind. "Tyson, I appreciate the offer, but... I think we o get out of town altogether."

  There ause oher end of the line. "Gwen, rotect you here."

  "I know," Gwen said softly, "Fine. You're right. We'll e, for now… But if Norman's free, he's got a vea against both Peter and you. The further away we are, the safer we'll be."

  The silehat followed was heavy with unspoken tension. Finally, Tyson sighed. "Alright. House of M is close and secure, we'll worry about getting you out of town ter."

  "Alright, we're on our way," Gwen promised. "Thanks for the warning. We'll see you soon."

  As she hung up the phone, her mind was already rag with pns. She o wake her family, pack essentials, a on the road as quickly as possible. She pushed her initial fear aside. There would be time for that ter.

  For now, she had a family to protect.

  Outside Gwen's window, hidden in the shadows, a figure crouched on a fire escape. Kaine's eyes, wild and filled with a manic gleam, were fixed on Gwen's silhouette. His fists ched and unched rhythmically. His hatred for Tyson burned white-hot, ing every rational thought. Tyson was the source of all his pain, all his failures. The man who had everything Kaine desired; respect, power, the love of those around him.

  "You think you protect her, Tyson?" Kaine snarled under his breath. "You 't even protect yourself from what's ing."

  Gwen moved about her room, gathering things in haste. As she turned her back to the window, her mind raced with pns for their hasty departure.

  In that moment of vulnerability, Kaine saw his opportunity.

  His muscles tensed as he prepared to unch himself through Gwen's window. But movement from his periphery caught his attention. Someone was swinging through the sky, heading in their dire. Quickly, Kaine crawled around to the far side of the building and swung out of view.

  He watched the figure reach Gwen's building from a few blocks away. It dider, but it stood watch. Several mier, anure swung into the area. Kaine scowled. Jessica had e to watch wen, aer had arrived a few mier. Rage boiled within Kaine as he realized they were w with Tyson to keep Gwen away from him. His mind raced wildly, trying to figure out how he was going to get to Gwen. Soon, she'd be at House of M with Tyson, out of his reach.

  Kaine fumed, his fists g so tightly that his nails dug into his palms. He wouldn't be able to solve this problem on his own. There were too many of them poised to fight him. But Kaine had allies now, though he wondered if they'd be enough. They'd have to be smart, divide and quer. He couldn't fight Jessid Peter at once, let aloyson. But with Harry's forces at his back, they might be able to pick them off one by one.

  Kaine's eyes narrowed as he began to formute a pn. He'd o draw them away from Gwen, separate them from each other. But that was only the first step. Kaine's ultimate goal was to strike at Tyson, to make him feel the pain and loss that Kaine himself had experieonight was just the start. House of M, Tyson's fortress, would o fall. As his pn began to take shape, a manic grin spread across his face. He imagiyson's look of horror when he breached his sanctuary. When he uood that nowhere was truly safe from Kaine's vengeance.

  But Kaine knew he couldn't rush this.

  Patience had never been his strong suit, but he forced himself to remain still, to tinue . He watched as Peter swung in a wide arc around the building. Jessica remained more stationary, her eyes stantly sing the surroundings. They were both alert, ready for any threat.

  Kaine's mind drifted to the others in Harry's group. Kraven's hunting skills could be invaluable in trag their targets, and in finding the perfeent to strike. The raw power of Rhino and Scorpion could provide the brute foreeded to overwhelm their oppos. And Norman... Kaihoughts lingered on the elder Osborn. His tactical mind and ruthless nature could be the key to refining this pn into somethiating. Assuming he could tain his madness. Norman's hatred for Spider-Man and Tyson rivaled Kaine's own.

  At worst, he could use them all as a distra and slip away, taking Gwen for himself.

  As the night wore on, Kaine remained hidden. He could see the shadows of figures moving inside and imagined Gwen hurriedly pag, preparing to flee the city. The urge to act immediately, to burst through the window and take her, was almost overwhelming. But Kaine forced himself to remain still. He had to be smart about this. Rushing in now would only result in failure, in beien back by Peter and Jessio, he o wait, to pn, to strike when the moment erfect.

  Kaine's eyes drifted back to the window of Gwen's room. Soon, she would leave, and this window of opportunity would close.

  He'd just o create another one.

  — Rogue Redemption —

  Mystique's eyes fluttered open. Her head throbbed. As her vision cleared, she saw a figure sitting across from her, the familiar silhouette of Mago's helmet bringing a momentary wave of relief.

  But as the man rose and stepped into the light, Mystique's breath caught ihroat. At first, she thought it was Erik, but it wasn't him uhe helmet.

  It was Tyson Smith.

  "You." She accused, trying to mask her rapidly rising fear. "What happeo Mago?"

  "I killed him. Absorbed him. Mago is me now."

  She had seen Tyson's power firsthand and had felt his draining touch st year orain. If he had truly absorbed Mago...

  "He killed my girlfriend. The girl I loved." Mystique remained silent, her yellow eyes never leaving Tyson's face. But the sensation of dread she felt was growing. "What should I do with you now, Mystique?" he asked in a deceptively casual tone.

  Mystique's heart raced as she stared at Tyson, his presence overwhelming her sehe memory of their enter orain flooded back, unbidden and unwele.

  "You belong to me."

  The words echoed in her mind, a haunting refrairied desperately tet. She'd pushed them aside for months, burying them beh yers of denial and distra. Even when she'd infiltrated House of M, she'd mao suppress the memory. But now, faced with Tyson's pierg gaze, the carefully structed walls crumbled. She tried to vince herself it had been Azazel who'd uttered those words. After all, it had been his mouth they'd e from, his form Tyson had worn. But deep down, Mystique khe truth. It was Tyson who'd spokeyson whose touch had seared her very soul.

  Her breath caught ihroat as she remembered the iy of that moment. The way his fingers had ed around her neck... The raw power that had radiated from him. Mystique shifted unfortably, her yellow eyes never leaving Tyson's face, the man who'd marked her indelibly.

  Shaking her head, she tried to clear her thoughts.

  This was madness. She beloo no one, least of all, this man who'd killed her friend. But even as she told herself this, she k wasirely true. Tyson had marked her that day as surely as if he'd branded her skin. She couldn't ighe pull she felt towards him.

  "What do you want from me?" she asked.

  "Will you help me tinue my work?" Tyson's question caught her off guard.

  It wasn't what she expected.

  Tyson seemed to take her silence as encement to tinue. "Mago was he leader mutants needed," he said, his voice gaining vi. "I could be that leader, but I need loyal followers." With deliberate slowness, Tyson removed Mago's helmet. Mystique's gaze was drawn to a streak of white in his hair, a stark reminder of the man he had absorbed. For a moment, she saw the eago in his stance, i of his jaw.

  "e with me," Tyson ordered. "I want to show you something."

  Against her better judgment, Mystique found herself following him. They made their way through the corridors, finally emerging onto an upper level overlooking the arena. Mystique reized the figures below. Morlocks, dozens of them, milling about in peared to be a makeshift shelter.

  "You were there when the Brotherhood found them iunnels but did nothing to help them."

  Mago had seen them as weak and as a liability, and he had recruited only those from them who he thought were strong enough to help the cause. But seeing them here, uyson's prote...

  "Are you truly a mutant supremacist?" Tyson challenged, "Or were you always looking for a pce where you could just be yourself? And not have to hide who you are?" Mystique's lips curled into a sneer, but there was a flicker of uainty in her eyes. He gestured to the Morlocks below, his movement drawing Mystique's gaze back to the arena. "They hid in the sewers below the city because they couldn't blend in with the world," he tinued. "They were persecuted, discriminated against, and baogether to hide from society."

  Mystique watched as a young Morlock with iridest scales helped an elderly mutant with gree-like limbs. The simple act of kindness struck a chord deep within her.

  "Look at them now," Tyson pressed. "Yes, they're still isoted, but I've only had a few hours."

  "If there's anyone who I thought would sympathize or want to help them... It'd be you. If anyone knows the struggle you face, it's them."

  Mystique's fists ched at her sides, flig emotions warring withihe part of her that had been loyal to Mago, that had embraced his vision of mutant superiority, rebelled against Tyson's words. But another part, a part she had long suppressed, resonated with the truth of what he was saying.

  "You know nothing of my struggles," she hissed, but the words cked venom.

  Tyson took a step closer, and Mystique felt that familiar pull, the echo of their first enter. "Don't I?" he asked softly. "I've been inside your head, Mystique. I've felt your longing for acceptance, for a pce to belong."

  "I'm trying to provide a better life for them," Tyson tinued. "This is what leaders are supposed to do. They raise their people up. Bring them together, and try to provide a better life for all. Not just those with power."

  Mystique turo look at him, really look at him. The anger she felt towards him burned in her chest, but it was tempered by a grudging respect. Ah it all, there was still that spark of e, a pull she couldn't resist.

  "Why are you showihis?" Mystique asked, her voice carefully ral.

  Tyson's eyes met hers, and for a moment, Mystique felt as if he could see right through her carefully structed defenses. "Because I want you to uand what I'm trying to build here," he said. "A true haven for mutants. Not just the strong or the useful, but for all of us."

  She weighed her options. Tyson had killed Mago, so by all rights, she should hate him and begin plotting her revenge. But something in his vision, in the way he spoke of raising up their people, resonated with a part of her she had long buried.

  "And where do I fit into this grand vision of yours?" she asked, uo keep the sarcasm from her voice.

  "As always, you fit in everywhere, Mystique. Adaptable. ing. Those are qualities I need if we're going to make this work." Tyson's expression softened slightly. " This is a ake a differeo help build a world where mutants like them," he owards the Morlocks, "and like you, don't have to hide."

  He stepped clain, and Mystique fought the urge to step back. "I remember ht orain," he said softly.

  She remembered, too. But forced herself not to think about it, to keep talking. "And what about Mago?" she asked, uo keep the bitterness from her voice. "You killed him. How I trust you won't do the same to me or to them if we disagree with your vision?"

  "If I wanted you dead, you would've never woken up."

  "Mago's death was... necessary. He would have watched the world burn if it meant mutants could rule over the ashes." He gestured once more to the Morlocks below. "This is about building something, not destroying. It's about giving our people a real future, not just survival."

  "I'm you a choice, Mystique. A real choiot servitude, not blind loyalty, but a ce to be part of something greater. To help shape the future of mutantkind." He gestured to the Morlocks below. "This is just the beginning. With your help, we could do so much more."

  Mystique found herself torn. The part of her that had been loyal to Mago recoiled at the idea of w with his killer. But another part, a part that had always questioned, always adapted, was intrigued by Tyson's offer.

  "And if I refuse?" she asked, testing the waters.

  Tyson's gaze hardened slightly. "Then you're free to go. But know that I'm done looking over my shoulder. Mago's mae will only work with me. The man is dead. There's no sense in pursuing his goal anymore. Either the Brotherhood falls in line behind me, disbands, or dies with Mago.

  The threat was clear, but so was the implicit offer of freedom.

  Mystique turned back to the arena, watg the Morlocks below. They looked... tent. Safe.

  "That's it?"

  "Mago held the Brotherhood together against me. Without him, are they a threat?"

  She thought of Wanda and Pietro, the Maximoff twins, powerful but direless without guidahe Juggernaut was a force of nature but g in strategy. Madrox was clever but not a natural leader. And the others would be scattered and potentially disillusioned by Mago's defeat.

  "You're ting on them falling apart," Mystique realized.

  "I have too much going on to waste time searg for them, especially if they're scattered."

  She found herself nodding along, seeing the logi his strategy. "I'm free to go?"

  "You're not a prisoner, Mystique. But I hope you'll choose to stay."

  "I ime," she said finally. "To think. To... process all of this."

  "Take the time you need. But know that you don't have to be alone anymore. None of us do."

  As he turo leave, Mystique found herself speaking before she could stop herself. "Why? After everything that's happened, why trust me at all?"

  Tyson paused, looking back at her. "Because I've seen inside your mind. I've felt your passion, your drive. And I believe that deep down, you want the same thing I do."

  He wasn't wrong. All these years fighting fo's vision of mutant supremacy, a a part of her had opped questioning. opped imagining a different path where their kind could simply... exist. Without fear, without bloodshed.

  "We just disagreed on how to get there. And Magrusts you, and since he's part of me, now, I kind of do too."

  With that, he had stepped off the ledge, h down to the arena floor on currents of magism so remi of Erik. Demonstrating his power... Mago's power. And leaving Mystique aloh her thoughts.

  She watched the people below. Here, Tyson had given them a haven. A glimpse of the world he spoke of. Mystique yearned for it, she realized. For unity. For freedom from endless war with humanity. But could she turn her ba everything she had believed in for so long? Abandon Mago's dream?

  The antagonism she felt towards Tyson for killing Mago wouldn't easily be extinguished. But alongside it, growing stronger with each passing moment, ark of possibility. Ah it all, that inexplicable e they had shared during their first enter tio pull at her.

  Doubt warred within her. But the joy below, for the first time in forever, Raven dared to hope. She found herself w what Mago would have thought of all this. Would he have seen it as weakness, as a capitution to human ideals, as he had with Charles? Or would he have reized the potential in Tyson's vision?

  In the end, Mystique khe choice was between ging to the past and the memory of Mago or adapting, once again, and embrag a new future.

  — Rogue Redemption —

  Dr. Miles Warreered his b. The acrid smell of chemicals and the hum of maery greeted him, but were little fort in the face of a spiraling situation. He'd witnessed Harry Osborn's test triumph, but the spectacle had left a bitter taste in his mouth. Warren's hands trembled as he hung up his b coat. The image of those monstrous creations, born from his research, haunted him. Scorpion and Rhino, they called them. Abominations crafted without his sultation, his life's work twisted and perverted by Smythe's inferior mind.

  "Usurpers," he muttered. "Thieves and chartans."

  He moved to his workstation and pulled up his test projects. The s flickered to life. There, in lines of code and strings of DNA, y the blueprints for his magnum opus.

  The perfect e.

  "I'm not blind," Warren hissed, his refle in the monitor staring back at him with sunken eyes. "I see what's ing."

  The writing was on the wall, clear as day.

  Harry didn't need him anymore.

  With Kai his disposal and Warren's perfect e nearing pletion, the doctor's usefulness was rapidly approag its expiration date. His hands ched into fists.

  Fired?

  He almost ughed at the notion. No, disposal was more likely. With the secrets he held, the knowledge locked away in his brilliant mind, a simple termination wouldn't suffice.

  He would be Terminated with a capital 'T'. Miles could already imagine Kaiwisted grin as Harry set the unstable e upon his creator.

  "Not if I have anything to say about it," Warren growled, spinning in his chair to face the b's extensive chemical ste. He needed prote, a failsafe. Something to ensure his survival in the face of betrayal. Warren's eyes narrowed as he sidered his options. While they had access to his work, he, too, had glimpsed their research. The animal hybrids they'd created sparked an idea in his mind.

  Warren pulled up the database of animals avaible on-site, scrolling through the list with growing frustration.

  Lions? Too reliant on the pride.

  Gorils? Too brutish and social, he couldn't rely on a himself.

  Snakes? maybe... Then, his cursor hovered over ary.

  Jackals.

  "Of course," he whispered.

  Jackals were survivors, opportunists. They knew when to fight and when to flee. Warre an immediate kinship with the creatures, reizing ihe traits he'd o weather the ing storm. With renewed purpose, Warreo work. He pulled up geic sequences, cross-refereng them with his research. Fingers flew across the keyboard, inputting plex formus and tweaking variables. Hours passed in a blur of calcutions and simutions. Finally, as the first rays of dawn peeked through the b's high windows, Warren sat back, exhausted but triumphant. A new sequence glowed green on the s before him, ready for synthesis.

  "I've discovered perfe for a sed time," he murmured, reag out to touch the s reverently.

  Warren wasted no time. He moved to the synthesis station and input the necessary ands. Maes whirred to life, mixing chemicals and splig genes. A vial of lumi green liquid slowly filled. When the process was pleted, he carefully removed the vial from its cradle. Holding it up to the light, he said, "This is the key to my survival."

  Warrehe risks. Dr. ors proved that animal hybrid serums were notoriously unstable, and their effects were uable at best. But he had no choice: adapt, die, evolve, or be discarded.

  Preparing a syringe, he filled it with the glowing green liquid, tapping out any air bubbles. Rolling up his sleeve, he found a vein and positiohe needle.

  "To survival," he whispered and pluhe needle home.

  The effect was immediate and intense. Fire raced through Warren's veins, setting every nerve-ending alight. He stumbled, knog over a tray of instruments that cttered to the floor. His vision swam, and his body vulsed, muscles trag and rexing in rapid succession. He fell to his knees, gasping for air as his lungs seemed to reshape themselves. His skin itched and burned as if a thousand is were crawling just beh the surface.

  Through the haze of pain, Warren caught his refle in a steel et. His jaw elongated slightly, and his teeth sharpeo points. Fur sprouted across his skin, a mottled pattern of browns and grays. The transformation seemed to st ay, but iy, it was over in minutes. As the pain subsided, Warren slowly rose to his feet, marveling at his new form. He flexed his fingers, now tipped with sharp cws, and ran his tongue over his poieeth.

  "Perfect," he growled, his voice deeper and rougher than before.

  A ugh bubbled up from his chest, starting low but quickly rising to a manic pitch. He'd do. He'd evolved, adapted. Let them try to dispose of him now.

  Dr. Warren stared at his refle. The man who gazed back at him was both familiar and alien, a grotesque fusion of human and jackal. His face had elongated into a e-like muzzle, and his skin was now covered in a fine yer of coarse, mottled brown and gray fur. His ears had grer and more pointed, swiveling indepely as they caught the fai sounds of the b's maery. Warren's eyes had ged dramatically. Once a dull brown, now amber. The pupils had elongated into vertical slits, and as he blinked, a translut third eyelid slid across each eye, adding to his inhuman appearahe transformatioended beyond his face. His entire body had bee leaner and more muscur with wiry strength. A tail, bushy and expressive, now protruded from the base of his spiwitg and swaying with each shift of his mood. Warren flexed his new form, feeling faster, stronger, and mile than ever. His senses had sharpeo an incredible degree; he could hear the fai whisper of air through the ventition system and smell the lingering traces of chemicals from experiments ducted days ago.

  "Magnifit," he growled.

  The Jackal, for that was what he now was, turned away from his refle. He stalked across the boratory. His cws clicked against the tile floor, a rhythmic sound that echoed iherwise silent room. He approached a heavy steel door, pung in a plex code with surprisierity despite his cwed hands.

  The door hissed open, revealing a room smaller than the main boratory. It was dominated by a massive drical tank filled with a pale blue liquid that bubbled gently.

  Suspended withiank was a man, or rather, a perfect replica of one.

  The e floated serenely irient-rich fluid, its eyes closed as if in peaceful slumber. Its body was lean and muscur, every inch the pinnacle of human physical perfe. He wore nothing but a breathing apparatus that covered the lower half of his face, providing it with oxygen.

  The Jackal's cwed hands reached out to touch the cool gss. This was his magnum opus, the culmination of his researd experimentation. A perfect e of Spider-Maically enhanced and primed for activation. He had succeeded iing not just a copy but an improvement on the inal.

  "Soon," the Jackal murmured, his distorted refle the image of the e. "Soon, you'll awaken, and together, we'll show them all."

  Something caught his eye as he gazed at the tank, lost in the vision of his future triumph. Another refle superimposed over his own. The Jackal blinked, fog on this new image.

  It was a face, but not his own.

  The skin was deathly pale, almost white, trasting sharply with hair as bck as midnight. But it was the forehead that drew his attention, where a brilliant red diamond seemed to glow with an inner light.

  The Jackal was lost in the beauty of the gem momentarily before he remembered himself. He whirled around, cws leading, ready to face this intruder. But there was no ohere. The room was empty save for him and the floating e. Turning back to the tank, he searched for the mysterious refle, but it was gone.

  Before he could process what he had seen, a searing pain exploded in his head. The Jackal clutched at his temples, and a howl of agony tore from his throat.

  The st thing the Jackal saw before sciousness fled was the serene face of his perfect e, still floating peacefully in its tank. Then, darkness cimed him, and he knew no more.

  Behind the Ses

  - And this marks the end of Tyson's lo day ever. The ey of Arc 7 up to this point has happened in a single 24-hour period, starting and ending around 5 am. I could have ehe Arc here; it almost came out as a cohesive 'book' up to this point, and we're already at 105k words… but would you believe me if I said there was another day in this Arc that is even lohan this one? And that this is only the midpoint of this Arc? Plus, I wao tie up more of the ongoing stories before introdug moing forward.

  - In the first draft, the mainstay of this chapter was dedicated to Malice. After inhabiting Lorna, Tyson discovered her and touched her, realizing that Malice was in Lorna and the source of his brief knowledge of the Marauders during the fight. The chapter dealt with him deg what to do with her. When I cut that, the chapter ended up being the shortest in several Arcs. So, I pulled some other ses that didn't have a good pto this chapter, which expins the various perspectives in the ses here.

  Additionally, many of the characters had alternate ses written. In the first draft, Gwen was captured by Kaine… again. But I hated that so much that I barely finished writing the draft before it was cut.

  Also, Mystique wasn't the only Brotherhood member captured after the battle in the first draft; Vanisher, Callisto, and Avanche were also captured. So, there was an additional se where Vanisher was interrogated. That all ged during the editing of the Battle in Times Square because it didn't really go anywhere. Tyson had Mago's memories, and he didn't learn anything from Vanisher.

  - Mystique being haunted by her first enter with Tyson is a callback from way early iory. Arc 1: Chapter 10:

  But Azazel's sudden appearance, coupled with Tyson's intimate knowledge of her weaknesses, and Jean's overwhelming telepathy, left a cra her armor. And Tyson seized upon it ruthlessly. The mental assault smmed into her like a battering ram besieging a fortress. Mystique's golden eyes went wide with dismay as the sheer magnitude of the psychic attack overwhelmed her. The false Azazel leaned in, his breath cold against her skin.

  "You belong to me," he murmured, his voice dripping with cruel certainty. "Forever tainted by my touch."

  It felt like invisible fingers w their way into her mind, unraveling the very threads of her identity. Mystique's defiant facade faltered, her eyes clouding with fear, fusion, and anguish. She recoiled from the mental and physical viotion, movements staggered as if struggling through quid. The strong-willed shapeshifter suddenly seemed fragile, shaken to her core. The brutal psychic attad cruel words left a perma mark on her psyche.

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