... Felicia Hardy
Felicia was crouched on top of a warehouse, the wind messing up her silver hair even more. It wasn't the tallest building in the neighborhood, but the view was great: a row of somewhat forgotten warehouses, a hint of shady business in the air, and in the distance, that conspicuous black van parked on the wrong side of luck.
She wasn't exactly the type to get involved in these messes — not officially, at least. But after seeing two girls being shoved into that unmarked van, curiosity won out.
Even knowing what they say about curious cats.
Felicia bit her lip, thinking. She could call the police, of course. She could turn around, grab a drink, and pretend she didn't see anything. But then… what fun would that be? Besides, it was ridiculously boring pretending she wasn't good at this.
She moved silently across the rooftops, light steps, almost inaudible jumps. Standard Black Cat protocol: no one sees, no one hears, no one holds you back. The plan was just to take a look, make sure the girls were okay, and maybe, just maybe, play heroine for the night.
That was when she heard the familiar thwip sound behind her. Before even turning, she knew who it was.
"You should buy quieter shoes, Spidey."
Spider-Man landed next to her, bending his knees and eyeing the warehouse with the focus of someone who's done this a thousand times — but still seemed lost in thought.
"Good afternoon to you too, Cat. What are you doing here? Problems with stray cats?"
Felicia smirked, relaxing her posture.
"Just investigating a little kidnapping. Thought I might need backup, but look at that, the joke delivery guy showed up first."
"Yeah, someone has to keep the day's humor intact. But seriously... who's inside?"
Felicia shrugged, looking through a cracked skylight.
"Haven't seen any faces yet, but they're not here for a party. Think you'll resolve this the friendly way or... is it webs and punches?"
Spider-Man hesitated. He looked down, then at Felicia, then back at the warehouse.
"If it's just punches, we're already home. But—"
His voice trailed off as a solitary figure began approaching the entrance of the warehouse.
"Aidan?!" Spider-Man blurted out, surprised.
Felicia raised an eyebrow, suddenly even more interested. She had a feeling she'd heard that name before, maybe in some gossip, but nothing came to mind now.
More importantly...
"You know him, Spidey?"
"It's... complicated."
"Complicated always means fun."
Together, they watched Aidan walk through the warehouse gate like he was going to borrow sugar from a neighbor. And if there was one thing Felicia knew, it was that the night was about to get interesting.
Spider-Man was already gearing up to act, but she held him back for a second.
"Let's see what he does. I bet five bucks the cops won't even get here in time to understand what's going on."
But curiosity won out. Felicia followed Spider-Man right behind — not because it was the right thing to do, but because she couldn't resist missing the show.
They silently circled around the side of the warehouse, shadows swallowing every step. A trick here, a jump there — until they found the perfect angle through a high, glassless window, partially hidden by rotting boards. Felicia peeked first, eyes sharp, and Spider-Man right beside her, glued as only he knew how.
What they saw was not pretty.
Inside, a tactical team armed to the teeth. Bulletproof vests, masks, shiny rifles — and worst of all, everything seemed to glow with a strange, phosphorescent blue. Tech that definitely wasn't standard for any police department she knew. The place smelled more like a secret warehouse than an old building.
In the center, two girls were tied to iron chairs: a redhead — Mary Jane, she recognized immediately, but wasn't crazy enough to speak it out loud — and a blonde, slim, also unconscious, must have been Gwen. Felicia's heart squeezed for a moment, the protective instinct almost screaming louder than her caution.
Spider-Man froze beside her. She could feel his body tense, his eyes fixed on the girls. It was obvious he was about to dive down, resolve everything with webs and punches, but something held him back. Maybe it was Aidan's entrance, his firm, carefree steps as he crossed the warehouse like he was late for a meeting, not a rescue.
His voice echoed across the space, cold, with a dangerous humor underneath.
"Here I am. You brought me here... now tell me what you want."
The casualness was almost unsettling. Felicia felt a shiver run down her spine, a mix of alertness and... something else. There was something sweet in his voice, but it wasn't comforting at that moment.
The armed group didn't relax — quite the opposite. They spread out, weapons aimed at him, but no one fired.
Felicia looked at Spider-Man, waiting for that classic decision to jump into the fight, but he held his breath and stayed.
"Does he know what he's doing?" she whispered, almost without moving her lips.
Spider-Man answered, still tense.
"I don't know. But if he doesn't... we'll step in."
Felicia nodded, never taking her eyes off the scene. The atmosphere was about to change. She knew, and loved, when the night promised this kind of mess.
... Aidan Quinn
It's my fault.
That's the raw, honest truth, even though it doesn't really help to acknowledge it now.
I should've known that not only would they track me, but they'd use the people around me. I never made a point to hide my name, never covered my tracks, never pretended to be the discreet guy. My face was out there, and pretty much every organization in this world should've known it.
Raven, Jean, Ororo, Rogue… they knew how to look after themselves pretty well.
MJ and Gwen, though, didn't.
I failed them, and the weight of that was right there, in front of me — in the form of two cold chairs, two unconscious girls, and half a dozen armed men with technology that glowed in the dark.
The glow of the weapons… that was Chitauri tech. The same kind of stuff I saw amidst the chaos in New York. Someone was playing on the big leagues. And if they knew me — and they did, or else they wouldn't have brought these two as bait — they'd know that wouldn't be enough to take me down. So, they must have something else up their sleeves.
Didn't matter.
I kept my cool, stayed calm. It was almost automatic: my stress defense made the world feel less suffocating, more… manageable.
I took a step forward, hands visible, body relaxed, but my eyes… they didn't leave the details: rifle positions, leader stances, where the detonators were.
"So, who are you? Hydra? Trask? Church of Humanity? Purifiers?"
The guy in front — black mask, deep eyes, rough voice, like every word was spat out — gave a dry laugh, almost a bark.
"You think it matters? All you need to know is we're the ones who clean up the mess from evolution's mistakes. The world already has too many problems without freaks playing at gods."
Another one in the back chambered his weapon, just to make noise.
"You should be in cages, not walking around like you're human. We're gonna fix that."
Their voices dripped with disgust. Hatred, even. The kind of thing that's never just talk — it was personal. I could see it in the way they looked at the girls tied up. As if they were just bargaining chips. Tools to get to me.
"Enough talk", the leader said, pulling a small metallic collar from his pocket, studded with sensors and wires, with a blinking red LED. "You're gonna put this on and come with us, freak. It's a power inhibitor. You can resist, fight, you might even take a few of us down… but these girls don't get a second chance. Wear the collar, or they pay the price."
My gaze went from the collar to the girls. My pulse didn't even spike — not from bravery, but because my [Stress Defense] kept everything under the surface. If it wasn't for that, I probably would've lost control right there and used the Purple to turn everyone to dust. But now, everything felt more… analytical.
"So this is the plan? You kidnap civilians and think this is gonna bring some kind of order back? Hydra never changed its script, huh?"
The leader growled.
"We're not Hydra. We're not just Purifiers. We're what the world needs to be safe again. Now— put the collar on!"
I didn't smile, didn't provoke, didn't respond with my usual sarcasm. I just kept my gaze locked on his, lethal and calm.
"You know what happens if that collar doesn't work, right?"
They went silent, as if it was the first time they considered that possibility. The leader gripped the collar tighter, but his voice wavered for a moment.
There was just one flaw in their logic they couldn't foresee.
I'm a Contractor.
All the powers I've bought from the Company are foolproof — they can't be disabled, copied, hacked, or erased by anything from this or any other universe. That's exactly why I didn't care that the Fantastic Four had samples of my blood, even knowing the whole Marvel history with clones.
It didn't make me invincible, not by a long shot. But it made all that power inhibitor theater useless.
"It'll work. And if it doesn't… they'll pay before you touch us."
I slowly put the collar on, letting them feel in control for a moment. Just to be safe, the Infinity stayed between my skin and any surprises — if that thing had a bomb, it would only explode against the impossible.
The leader gave a half-smile, the kind of satisfied expression you get when you think you've won the round.
"See? It's not so hard to obey. Now, go to the wall."
I raised my hands, passive, just enough to make him believe everything. The group relaxed a little, guns still aimed, but now exchanging looks as if they already felt the prize in their pockets.
Another guy laughed, nudging his colleague.
"He doesn't look that dangerous without his powers, huh?"
"Should've done this from the start. Just threatened the girls."
My blood boiled inside, but my face stayed neutral. The truth was, I already knew, even before stepping in, that I was being watched. With the Six Eyes, I noticed the pair of hidden presences outside: one in red and blue, the other in black leather, feline. They were just waiting for the right moment to act.
What happened next was quick — a window shattered, sending brilliant shards of glass across the floor, and suddenly, the party got a lot more crowded.
Spider-Man dropped down, immediately webbing the group's rifles, pulling two of the thugs to the opposite wall. Black Cat — and what a surprise to finally see her — moved with even more agility, leaping between shadows and already cutting MJ and Gwen's bonds before any idiot could react. The two girls started waking up, dazed but alive.
The leader shouted, spinning his rifle toward MJ in a desperate attempt, but I was already there, much faster than he could register. I grabbed his neck, feeling the adrenaline rise, cold as ice.
"You should've... chosen better who to threaten."
The sound was dry — bone crushing, body collapsing to the ground. The rest of the armed men panicked, firing at me, but the lasers from their alien weapons never got close. Infinity blocked them, and now, with MJ and Gwen protected by New York's most charismatic hero and a vigilante/thief, my attention was on them.
The difference between feeling safe and actually being safe is a very thin line. And they just crossed it — to the wrong side.
"This is gonna hurt, boys."
... Peter Parker
The smell of burnt dust and melted plastic still hung in the air when everything finally went quiet. Peter was breathing fast, pulse racing, feeling the adrenaline slowly leave his muscles. He had dealt with weapons, henchmen, villains, and even aliens, but seeing Aidan in action was... different.
The same Aidan he knew from school, but now surrounded by armed thugs, displaying a type of power that Peter didn't even know how to describe.
The guy not only ignored the lasers being fired — they simply stopped when they got close to him, as if the air between them was made of unbreakable glass. Not even a scratch. The inhibitor collar was glowing, blinking red, but if it was doing anything, Peter couldn't see the difference.
The girls were shaking, pale, eyes wide. MJ almost lost her balance when she tried to get up, and Gwen was stuck with her hand on the cut rope, her gaze a bit lost.
"It's okay, you're safe now", he said, trying to sound as gentle as possible, even though his sweaty suit was sticking to his back.
"Nothing like a little kidnapping to start the week, huh?" Black Cat said with a light tone, but her eyes scanned the room like someone who never lets their guard down.
Peter wanted to crack a joke, but the tension in the air was too heavy. He tried to move closer to Aidan, but was cut off when he turned toward them, opened his hand — and a golden circle, glowing with warm energy, opened in the air. The kind of thing Peter was sure he had never seen in New York. Not in video, not in any of the comics he read.
"Get them out of here", Aidan said, his voice calm, no tone of request. "I still have some questions to ask these guys."
Black Cat let out a low whistle, surprised.
"Look at that, not only strong, but knows how to give orders... I like that."
"You gonna be okay…?" he asked, kind of dumbly, but couldn't help it.
Peter looked around: unconscious villains, the sinister glow of the portal, Aidan's cold demeanor. It was the type of situation that always went wrong in movies. But Gwen and MJ were scared — and the priority was getting them out of there.
Aidan just nodded.
"They're out of cards, and the girls have already been through too much because of me. I'm sorry for that."
Gwen looked back, still trembling.
"What's going on? Who... who are they?"
MJ grabbed Aidan's arm, as if she wanted to stay close to someone familiar.
"Aidan, they said your name... what did you do? What's happening?!"
Aidan lowered his gaze just a little, sincere — for the first time that night, he seemed less... unshakable.
"I should've been more careful. I'm sorry for putting you in this. It'll be okay now."
Felicia approached the two girls, lightly placing a hand on MJ's shoulder.
"Let's go, girls. A magical portal is usually a good thing. No time to argue now— let's get out before the ceiling falls in."
Peter glanced at Aidan one last time, feeling a pang of discomfort.
"Thanks", he heard, in a barely audible voice.
With no other choice, he stepped through the portal with Gwen and MJ, Black Cat right behind them. The last glance was at Aidan, standing in the middle of the warehouse.
The world closed behind them in gold and silence.
... William Stryker
William Stryker was a man of unshakable convictions. He believed in purpose. In calling. And his — shaped by pain, by fear, and what he called "salvation for humanity" — was crystal clear: to wipe mutants off the face of the Earth.
It wasn't about hate.
It was faith.
A hard, cold, compassionless kind of faith. The kind where mutants — those mistakes of creation, monsters disguised as innocence — were seen as sin in genetic form. And like all sin... they had to be cleansed.
When the Chitauri tech was recovered after the Battle of New York, Stryker saw it as a sign. God had given him a new weapon. And with Trask providing advancements in containment and suppression of mutant gifts, he believed control was finally within reach. Project: Dominion. A plan that no longer aimed just to contain mutants — but to dominate them.
To reset the broken balance.
And then... came Aidan Quinn.
A name with no past records. No known ties, no DNA on file. A mutant of unknown origin, with multiple abilities and a strangely high social influence — building bonds with telepaths, weather-wielders, dangerously powerful women with absolute loyalty.
Operating at a power level that rivaled anything Stryker had ever seen — and he'd seen plenty. There was something about Aidan that broke all the rules. That ignored logic, science, and faith in equal measure. And that's why he authorized the hunt.
Intel warned him.
But even then, Stryker still believed in the plan.
Right up until he watched it fail.
In the Purifiers' command center, he stood in silence as his teams — armed with anti-mutant armor, pulse rifles, and Trask's inhibitor collars — were taken down one by one. The screens flashed red. Same pattern. Always red. Always silence after.
The techs around him shouted, panicked, but Stryker wasn't listening anymore. He just stared at the blank monitors. One by one... the feeds went dark.
He knew.
"He's coming", he muttered to himself. "The antichrist of a new age."
Then came the hum.
Low, subtle — like a fingertip sliding across glass. The air in the command center seemed to vibrate. And then, right in front of him, reality split open.
A golden circle of light appeared with unnatural precision, like the universe itself was stepping aside, afraid to stand in the way of whoever was coming through.
The abomination walked out of the portal.
No drama, no rush. Nothing in his face showed anger.
But there was no mercy either.
Security moved — slowly, like fear was draining their reflexes. Stryker didn't bother shouting orders. It wouldn't have made any difference.
Those men were already dead the moment they reached for their weapons.
Aidan stopped in front of him. His uniform dusted with ash, like he'd walked through ruins. His eyes… looked like frozen skies.
Stryker felt it like a blade in his gut. It was like staring into the death of a belief.
"Hello, Reverend Stryker", he said calmly, almost politely. "I have a few questions for you."
Stryker kept his chin up, even as cold sweat ran down his spine. He tried to step back — just once. But the floor felt like solid stone.
"You… you're a mistake", he growled, voice deep but shaky. "Something that should never have existed. Mutant, demon, abomination—"
"Call it whatever you like", Aidan cut in, still calm. "You've labeled plenty of people before, Reverend. And you've killed plenty because of those labels."
"You should be afraid", Stryker hissed, still clinging to whatever authority he had left. "God is watching."
Aidan gave a humorless smile.
"Then I'll just have to hope He can forgive me for what happens next."