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"Long time no see, Sylas!"
Ned waved from the school gate, grin wide as ever.
Over the past week, he'd only gone out a few times with Peter. Sylas, on the other hand, had been "mysteriously busy" with things neither of them could quite pin down.
"Yeah, it's been a while," Sylas replied, smiling. "So… how are things with Kate?"
"We broke up. Peacefully," Ned said like he was reading off a memo.
Peter, walking beside him, almost tripped. "Wait—what? Since when?!"
"Hey, man, some things don't need a press conference." Ned puffed himself up, putting on his Love Guru voice. "Listen, kid, this is how love works. May you experience it soon and become a real man."
"I think I'm man enough already," Peter muttered under his breath.
Sylas and Ned both froze mid-step.
Ned stared at him like he'd grown a second head. "So Peter is actually the—"
"Okay, school. Class. Now!" Peter clamped a hand over Ned's shoulder and practically dragged him away. "Bye, Sylas!"
Sylas shrugged and headed toward the building by himself.
The route still carried faint scars from the Lizard incident.
Most of the damage had been repaired with fresh paint and new glass, but if you knew where to look, you could read the hidden story in the cracks.
"Hey, Sylas! What are you staring at?"
Michelle (MJ) suddenly appeared behind him, a little too happy for a Monday.
He recognized her voice instantly and turned with a smile. "You seem unusually cheerful. What happened?"
"Nothing special," MJ said. "I just realized that after a whole week, you're not late for once."
She jabbed a finger at him.
"Normally, if someone sees you on the way here? That means the bell's about to ring and they need to SPRINT."
Sylas put a hand over his heart dramatically. "Wow, MJ. That hurts. Deeply."
"Oh, come on. It's just facts," she said, rolling her eyes.
"What are you guys talking about, nerds?"
Jelf showed up twirling a basketball on his fingertips.
"Nothing," Sylas said, then nodded toward the ball. "So when's the big basketball game?"
Jelf groaned. "It was supposed to be this week. Then Lizard-Guy trashed part of the school and now the game's moved to another campus."
"That sucks," Sylas said.
"Exactly! The fight only wrecked the corridor. Why are they punishing the basketball court?" Jelf complained.
"Orders from above," MJ said. "They say play there, you play there. Unless your dad is loaded and can buy the school a whole new gym."
Jelf raised the ball with both hands. "I'd LOVE that, but my parents are just regular workers. If I get rich someday, I'm absolutely buying a stadium in my name."
"Sure," Sylas patted him on the shoulder. "Next life, maybe."
Jelf slapped his hand away. "Can't you just once say something positive?"
"I did. At least I didn't say next next life," Sylas said.
"That's it, we're done. Friendship over," Jelf declared, hugging the ball and making an exaggerated wounded face like Sylas had crushed his soul.
Before Sylas could answer, the school bell rang.
"Looks like we'd better move, people!" Jelf shouted.
The three of them took off running, diving into class just as the bell finished echoing.
---
Hell's Kitchen
Clinton, better known as Hell's Kitchen, was the kind of place people tried not to end up in.
Filthy, chaotic, and soaked in desperation.
If you lived here, you didn't do it because you had options.
"Kid. Time to pay up again."
Two big guys cut off a skinny young man in a narrow alley.
They were brothers: Seb Gore and Jess Gore, career bottom-feeders who specialized in beating down the weak and taking whatever cash they had.
They called it "protection money."
The only thing they really protected anyone from… was themselves.
The kid's name was Pace Lane.
"N-no…" Pace backed up a couple of steps, voice shaking. "You said it was… protection money… but you never protect me from anyone."
"See, that's where you're confused," Seb said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Protection means we protect you from our fists. Not theirs."
Jess, far less patient, grabbed Pace by the collar and slammed him into the wall.
"Hand over the money or I stop being polite."
" I-I don't have any," Pace stammered. "The guys up ahead robbed me… they took everything."
Jess shot Seb a look. Seb gave the slightest nod.
Jess started patting Pace down, going through his pockets.
"What are you doing?! Help! Somebody help!" Pace twisted, but his skinny body didn't stand a chance.
"F—!"
Jess slapped him hard across the face. Stars exploded in Pace's vision.
Jess pulled out a few crumpled dollar bills and held them up. "He lied, Seb. Little rat's been holding out on us."
Seb inhaled slowly, then walked up and grabbed Pace by the hair, lifting his head.
"You've got some nerve, kid."
SMACK.
Seb's palm crashed into his face.
Both sides of Pace's cheeks swelled red almost instantly.
"I-I'm sorry… I'll bring more next time… just don't… don't…" Pace mumbled, barely able to form a sentence.
"Sorry?" Seb dropped him to the ground. "Jess. Remember this face. Whenever you see him—beat him."
"Got it," Jess said. "I've got a great memory."
Just then, a group of men turned into the alley at the far end.
Jess and Seb didn't wait to see who they were, They bolted.
Outnumbered in Hell's Kitchen was not a condition you survived by being curious.
They disappeared, leaving Pace half-conscious on the ground.
"Take him."
That was the last thing Pace heard before his vision went completely black.
---
Oscorp – Underground Lab
"Is the subject awake yet?"
Norman Osborn, lab coat on, stood behind a glass wall, looking into a sterile chamber.
One of his assistants checked the monitor. "All data is stabilizing. The serum has started to fully integrate. The first successful test subject is born."
A slow smile tugged at Norman's lips.
The last few days had been hell.
After Oscorp's product scandal, he had been hammered by shareholders, nearly forced to shut everything down.
The public apology.
The massive refunds.
The collapsing stock price.
Norman had promised the board no more "illegal human experimentation."
But to him?
This project was years of research. His masterpiece.
And as his own body began to fail, he needed it personally.
Several homeless men had failed the compatibility test dead ends, literally.
Now, finally, they'd found a match.
Pace Lane.
---
Pace's eyes fluttered open.
He found himself strapped to a cold metal table, wrists and ankles locked into reinforced restraints.
Beyond the glass, men and women in lab coats watched him like he was a lab rat.
"Let me go! Who are you?!" Pace shouted, heart racing.
The word surfaced in his mind like a nightmare:
Human experimentation.
News stations had been talking nonstop about missing homeless people.
But he wasn't even homeless.
He was just… small. Weak. Easy to ignore. Easy to use.
"Pace Lane, twenty-three years old…"
One of Norman's scientists read off his file as Norman watched in silence.
Pace shook, panic spiraling into something sharp.
He tore against the restraints and to his shock, the metal bent.
He ripped his arms and legs free like they were nothing.
He stared at his own hands in disbelief.
"My… strength…"
Norman stepped closer to the glass.
"How does it feel? That power… we gave it to you."
Pace lifted his head, eyes burning with fear and confusion.
"Who are you people?" he asked, voice trembling, gaze locking onto Norman.
Norman's smile did not reach his eyes.
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