Captain George groaned as he stirred, his vision adjusting to the dim light of the room. His body felt... different. The aching pain that had plagued him for years was gone. The fatigue he had carried from countless sleepless nights had vanished. He flexed his fingers, running a hand over his chest, expecting to feel wounds, but instead, all he found was smooth, unbroken skin.
"Captain, how are you?" Spider-Man leaned forward, his voice filled with concern.
George blinked at him, confused. "Parker? What the hell happened?" His eyes scanned the room, then widened as he realized something. "I~ I should be dead."
Spider-Man grinned and gestured toward the young man beside him. "Not on my watch. Or, well… not on his watch."
George turned his gaze to the man in question. Soren stood casually with his arms crossed, his expression calm yet amused.
"He saved you." Peter continued. "Not just you, me too. Fixed me up in minutes."
The Captain's brows furrowed. He was a man of facts, of logic. But the evidence was undeniable, he felt better than he had in years. "That's… impossible."
"A man like you shouldn't die so early. That's all." Soren waved a hand dismissively.
George studied him for a long moment before exhaling and nodding. "Thank you." He said, his tone sincere. "I don't know how, but... thank you."
A moment of silence passed between them before George turned back to Peter. His expression hardened. "Parker…"
Spider-Man tensed. He knew that look.
"I blamed you before." George admitted. "I was wrong."
Peter scratched the back of his neck, a little embarrassed. "Yeah, well… you weren't entirely wrong."
George let out a short chuckle, shaking his head. "Maybe not. But there's something else I need to say." His tone turned grave. "You've chosen a dangerous path. You will make enemies. And those enemies won't just come for you."
Peter's posture straightened. "I can handle myself."
"I know you can." George sighed. "But I'm not speaking as a cop right now." His voice softened, and his eyes met Peter's with an intensity that made the young hero swallow hard. "I'm speaking as a father."
Peter felt a chill run down his spine. He suddenly had a sinking feeling where this was going.
George took a deep breath. "Stay away from Gwen."
Peter's heart shattered. "What?"
"You know as well as I do that being close to you puts her in danger. She's already been targeted once." George's eyes were unwavering. "I won't let it happen again."
Peter opened his mouth, but no words came out.
Soren watched the exchange silently, choosing not to interfere. This was a personal matter, one between a father and the boy dating his daughter.
"I..." Peter hesitated. He loved Gwen. The thought of cutting her out of his life felt unbearable. But he also knew George wasn't wrong.
The Captain's expression softened, just a little. "I'm not asking you to stop caring about her. I'm asking you to think about what's best for her."
The weight of those words settled over Peter like a heavy storm. After a long pause, he swallowed and nodded slowly. "I understand."
"I promise to… keep my distance." His voice was quiet, resigned.
George nodded, satisfied, though he didn't look any happier about it than Peter did.
Sensing the tension, George cleared his throat. "It's late. I've already taken up too much of your time." He turned to Soren. "Doctor, I owe you more than I can put into words. But I will repay this debt. Consider my home open to you whenever you need it."
Peter, still looking a little lost in thought, snapped out of it and straightened up. "Yeah, same here. If you ever need anything, just call." He managed a small, grateful smile. "Seriously, thanks for everything."
Soren simply chuckled. "I'll hold you both to that."
As he walked them to the door, he watched them disappear into the city night. A faint notification chimed in his mind.
[Congratulations! You have gained three mission points for treating Spider-Man!]
[Current Points: 93/100]
A week had passed since the chaotic battle between Spider-Man and Dr Conners, and New York City was quiet. Despite the chaos that often plagued the streets, there hadn't been any major disturbances.
No new threats, no villains with plans for world domination, no surprise visits from heroes or would-be heroes. Just the usual hustle and bustle of a city that never slept.
For Soren, the quiet was both a blessing and a curse. He had been waiting for something big to happen, waiting for his chance to earn the last 7 of his mission points, which, as he had learned, couldn't be gained by treating ordinary people.
But that didn't mean he could just sit around. As a skilled doctor with abilities far beyond what most could comprehend, he knew there was always someone out there who needed help.
It was just a matter of finding them.
The dimly lit office was filled with an air of frustration and desperation. Norman Osborn stood behind his desk, gripping the edge so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Scattered across the polished mahogany surface were the results of his latest medical tests, each one a damning confirmation of what he already knew, his body was failing.
His family's genetic disease was progressing faster than anticipated.
"No, no, no…" He muttered, pacing like a caged animal. His mind raced, searching for a solution.
Dr. Connors' research had once seemed like salvation. But after witnessing what it had done to the man, turning him into that monstrous Lizard, Osborn knew he couldn't risk the same fate.
"There has to be another way." He growled, slamming his fist onto the desk. The force sent a glass paperweight crashing to the floor.
Silence reigned in the office… until~
"Mr. Osborn, I can help you solve your troubles."
The voice rang out cutting through the silence like a blade.
Osborn's head snapped up. "Who's there?" he barked, his heart pounding.
His eyes darted around the office. No one should have been able to enter, not without his permission.
His breath hitched as, right before his eyes, a swirling blue haze materialized in front of his desk.
From within the mist, a figure stepped forward… a young man with an air of casual confidence, as if breaking into the office of one of the most powerful men in New York was an everyday occurrence.
Osborn stiffened, masking his alarm behind a cold glare. "Who the hell are you?" His voice was low, measured. "And how did you get in here?"
The stranger simply smiled. Without a word, he raised a hand, and to Osborn's utter disbelief, the bottle of red wine on his desk floated into the air.
The liquid poured itself into a glass, which then glided through the space between them before settling into the stranger's outstretched hand.
Osborn's pulse quickened. Telekinesis? Magic? Advanced tech? Whatever it was, this man was dangerous.
The stranger took a leisurely sip of the wine, his eyes never leaving Osborn's. "Relax, Mr. Osborn. I didn't come to harm you." he said smoothly. "I came to discuss a deal."
Osborn narrowed his eyes. "A deal?" He crossed his arms. "I don't do business with people who don't enter through my office door."
The young man smiled. "Oh? That's unfortunate. Because I'm the only one who can cure you."
Osborn's expression darkened.
"How do you know about that!?"
꧁𓊈𒆜༺⚜༻𒆜𓊉꧂
Fellow Phantoms and aspiring Phantoms to be, if you seek to access advanced parts of this story procced to my shadowy realm of p@treon.
PhantomDream