NY, Queens | December 9th, 2035

EARTH-2718

The sounds of jail cells violently shook and reverberated in the large, prison. The highly placed windows narrowly denied access for rays of sunlight that entered through. Prisoners hollered and cursed, crying and groaning, although the effort was pointless. No one would save them, not now. This was every day for the facility. Soon, two double doors swung open, and two men approached from them. A man stood in front of an hair was cleanly shaven off but wore a well-cut stubble beard. His arms were locked in handcuffs tightly, and he wore the usual prisoner attire which was an orange shirt and pants. The officer behind him had hard, blue eyes. A black set of hair on his head, and a beard that stretched out past his chin, he was now just entering his mid-40s, while the prisoner looked about in his 20s.

Slowly, the prisoner took one step forward, examining the prisoners and the prison around him while the officer stalked behind him closely. The stench of sweat and the apparent longing without a shower for several prisoners filled both their noses. Their shoes clattered off the pale, rough ground made of marble, and their eardrums were penetrated by the abrupt yelling of prisoners in their cells on both sides. Some cursed, some spat, hissing, and writhing like a snake between those iron bars. These were no men anymore.

Monsters, criminals, scum, maybe all of the above, but nonetheless...

They were all the same, Felton thought to himself. You could think of any harsh adjective to describe these guys. There was no line drawn to separate them because a line exists to grip the good from the bad, but there weren't any opposites here, not one. The two continued to walk. Their figures passing by the hard, malevolent gazes set behind the cells. Felton felt his body mutter. It was evident in his slightly shivering hands and the thudding of his heart, and he soon took the realization of what he felt. What did he have to fear? They were clearly no threat to him.

"Is there something the matter?" The officer asked.

Felton thought he had hidden himself and his emotions easily, yet the officer was able to figure him out in a short time, and with that, he felt his face heat up in embarrassment and frustration. Fortunately, his hands ceased its shaking, and he answered, rather bitterly, "Just keep yourself in check. We're trying to make this fast and easy, got it?" The officer didn't acknowledge the sharpness in his voice and Felton thought he would react angrily to taking orders from someone wearing orange. A uniform for murderers. He looked over his shoulder after he sat on the thought for a while, "Correct me if I'm wrong but you've worked here for nineteen years and from what I have heard, you've got quite a list of accomplishments. How does it feel knowing that you're betraying your-"

"Don't." The officer spat darkly with disdain. With hatred, "If you know what's good for you, don't. This is blackmail and sabotage. I'm not betraying a damn thing. If I could, I would turn on you in an instant, don't you ever forget that."

"And don't you forget that if you do, you know the consequences that will play against the both of us,"

The officer held his silence at the remark.

And he damn well knows it's true too. He can't go down like that. Not with the reputation and life he has. I'm in control here.

"Felton," He called his name, and Felton could tell the man tried to scrape the boiling distaste faintly weighing in his tone. He spoke slowly, but angrily, almost through gritted teeth, "When this is all over... when you finally get what you want... How often would you think of the repercussions of your actions? How long do you think you can get away with what you're doing?"

"Nothing lasts forever, officer. I am fully aware of that. However, I am not afraid of time. I'm not afraid of anything, quite frankly. What I am afraid of however is if we can get through this." Felton smirked, "How the both of us criminals will get through this together," It took no fool to recognize the emphasis on "together". The officer was practically a criminal now. One of them.

And what better way to have some fun by rubbing it in his face.

The officer went into a whisper, he was closer behind Felton now, "Quit trying to mold this arrogant, tough guy act. You were trembling before, you didn't think I noticed? It doesn't come off as a surprise to me. Criminals always trip over their own fear."

Felton looked at the prisoners on his right again, "Trust me, officer, I don't fear any of these clowns."

"You don't have to fear anyone. You can also fear yourself."

He chuckled at the officer, "Well, we'll see where that leads won't we?" The pair were nearing Felton's now new cell and seeing how there was no-one poking their head out and spitting a handful of cutting insults, it was most definitely empty.

How disappointing... I expected some type of entertainment for my visit. You have guys that want to fight each other for no reason at all... I guess for dominance or something. Would have been amusing to see someone put up a fight.

"Let's see how tough you are without your gun!" Someone shouted behind them. Felton was sure that comment was directed towards the officer, and he was tempted to look back to see his reaction but kept his eyes forward. "Wait, is that the officer whose wife died last week!?"

And that's where Felton heard the officers footsteps come to a stop behind him. Felton stopped seconds after he did.

"It was, wasn't!?"

And Felton knew about it too.

The Death of Rosie Rain Jenkins, maybe it's more appropriate to say the Murder of Rosie Rain Jenkins.

"And Everyone here knows about it. EVERYONE! We were a little saddened by her death... I remember she paid a visit here, with you. She was a fine thing, wasn't she? Beautiful brown hair, blue eyes. I'm sure you remember, right?"

Felton scoffed to himself.

It's not like he was her husband or anything. Of course, he doesn't remember.

He looked over at the prisoner rambling on and got a good look at him. Cell-A09 was cemented in the wall above the cell in bold text. The guy talking looked about two hundred pounds, six feet tall, and a muscular. His hair, like Felton's, was completely shaven off, and like the officer he had a stubble beard, the only flaw was that it was terribly shaved. Bruises and cuts surfaced his arms and face; some freshly new, some old and healing, but still vivid.

The prisoner went on, "Beautiful blue eyes- wow, just amazing. I think maybe I caught her checking me out too. Everyone does have their types that make them go wild, right? You're a lucky guy to get something like that..."

The officer started to walk again, Felton was about to follow.

"And you want to know something? We tell stories about what we would do if we were alone with her!"

And once again, the officer came to an abrupt stop.

"It's the only way we know how to get to you officers. It makes you tick, doesn't it? Angry such a nice woman had to die by the hands of people like us."

Silence lingered for a moment as all the prisoners were starting to chime in on the confrontation with crazed laughter and taunting. Felton kept his gaze held on the officer. He was slightly looking down to where his cap hid his face entirely. Maybe to hide the anger.

Or maybe to hide the pain.

He glared at the prisoner again.

You are pulling on some dangerous ropes here, pal, and you might not like what comes down.

The prisoner sensed his gaze on him, and they both made eye contact as his laughter slowly died down. "And you must be new here," He addressed, "Welcome to the city of iron bars. The name's Slash, the guy next to me is Reggie. Been in 'ere for ten years.

Felton looked back at the officer, and then back at the grinning prisoner. He narrowed his eyes, and added coldly, "You won't make it past eleven,"

Slash's brows jumped, then his own features morphed into a frown, "Ask anyone in here, I'm not one to mess with. I've been here back and forth since I was twelve, and I've survived ever since. I assure you, I'm the strongest man in here."

"You were... until I arrived," Felton felt a smirk tug at his lips.

"Mind me askin' what the hell is your problem?" Slash barked, now angry, "You don't know how much power I have in here, pal. If I wanted to I could bargain with some of these officers to make your life torture. Ya hear? I dare you to ask anyone in this prisoner if I'm the most dangerous man here! I bet I could even say I'm the most dangerous man in the world!" Slash laughed loudly again, and other prisoners hesitantly joined him. This time the number was fewer.

Felton turned around to fully look him in the eyes.

"You raise your voice again, and I swear to you... not a doctor alive will be able to fix what I do to you."

The prison fell into a hush. Felton himself was caught off guard by the threat and eyed him. The officer whirled around to face Slash who rose a curious brow. The sudden threat took him by surprise, but he had no fear looming in his eyes. Felton felt disgust twist his stomach into a knot as the prisoner merely smirked. Slash knew he would touch a nerve.

Soon Slash noticed now that the prisoners in the other cells were completely silenced and now the only sound filling the air was the sound of shoes hitting the ground hauntingly. All eyes were trained on the officer. His hat covered his eyes, or to be more precise, his entire face as Felton walked behind him.

"He's convinced you won't do anything to him," Felton put in, his tone serious, "I suggest you don't either."

The officer said nothing. Felton screamed at the officer inside his head. He was about to do something foolish, reckless even. Felton looked at Slash then at the other prisoner beside him named Reggie. A blind man could sense the fear radiating off the guy. He was practically shaking.

Slash took notice to this as well, and he gave the man a look of disgust, "These officers won't do shit Reggie, calm the hell down."

"But he doesn't look very hap-"

"I CAN SEE THAT!"

I don't think you can.

Slash felt panic rise for a moment. He scanned around the prison and everyone was watching the altercation go down. Everyone. He felt outnumbered and cornered.

"Keep your eyes on me," The officer spat. An angry, sinister tone lingering in his voice. The officer stood in front of the cell. It felt like Slash was looking at two loaded guns as the officer looked at him with those angry blue eyes. Slash had to suppress the fear mustering in his stomach, holding his ground, he asked, "Is there something I can help you with officer?"

The officer didn't reply. Instead, he looked back at Felton - who was a giving an expression of disapproval - then back at Slash. His eyes quickly caught that the officer was slowly reaching for his gun while keeping his eyes trained on him. Slash froze for a second and involuntarily stepped away from the cell, bracing for the worst. The officer gripped the pistol and pulled it out of the holster with his left hand. Letting the muzzle point down to the ground.

Slash's heart started to gain pace as it pounded against his chest. Not out of fear, but excitement. Slash had been shot, stabbed, and beaten to a bloody pulp, but there was something about all of that excited him. An officer that was willing to actually cross that line, to kill him right here and now. To give up everything just to murder an insignificant prisoner like himself! It was spectacular to see and be a part of!

Meanwhile, Felton straightened his arms and a small key fell from his sleeve.

Slash grinned, throwing out his arms like he was waiting for an embrace, "What are you waiting for? Shoot me! DO IT! Why hesitate!?"

"The answer is simple," Felton walked beside the glaring officer. Who held handcuffs in his right hand. The officers flipped the gun over so he could instead grip it by the sides of the muzzle, and he gave Felton the gun. The unchained prisoner now pointed the gun at Slash.

"Because he's not me."

And a loud bang went off inside the cell, and seconds after. Slash's body dropped. Soon a puddle of blood surfaced, Slash's mouth and eyes were open in almost frozen surprise. Reggie could only look at the body in horror. Felton could even admit that he enjoyed that.

"You... you killed him."

He pointed the gun towards Reggie. "Tell me, Reggie, this guy said that he was the toughest here and with all due respect to the now dead man, I severely doubted it. Because I'm here now," Felton took in Reggie's look of fear, knowing his words got to him, "And now I want you to tell me where Wilson Fisk is located?"

"Wilson Fisk... he's uh, in his own cell. I don't know which cell and where though."

Felton felt himself clench the gun tighter, "That's not satisfying enough, Reggie."

And apparently Reggie sensed his Felton's own impatience, and panic flared in his eyes, "I-I don't know! That's all I have to say, I swear!"

"All you have to say is you don't know?"

"I..."

Felton sighed, "I guess that leads me to another question. Ever take drama class in high school?"

Reggie hesitated for a second, "Uh, no. Why?"

Felton smiled and tossed the gun through the bars, in which Reggie instinctively caught it, "You're going to need some pretty good acting."

The cop unhinged the handcuffs that Felton gave back to him after he gave Felton the gun. He turned around, unlocked them with a click and they opened. Felton put his wrists inside the cuffs and the officer closed them with a snap. Soon running in the distance could be heard. Another officer yelled not too far, "The gunshot was down here!"

Reggie's face brightened with panic in which Felton smiled, "Looks like you're a bit out of luck." The officer next to him was horrifyingly expressionless as he proceeded to grab the wrist of the man and lead him in front as they began walking away.

"HEY!" Reggie cried, "You just can't leave me here! Please! I didn't even do this!"

The two continued walking, "The way I see it, you're the one with the gun,"

"But I-"

"PUT DOWN THE WEAPON!"

Right on queue...

Hearing this, the two picked up the pace.

"It wasn't me! I-It was h-"

"Shut up!" And a loud thud thundered in the prison. Thousands of prisoners cheered over the sound of the beating in the background. Felton didn't dare look back at the scene as he didn't want to look as suspicious, but unluckily the two heard rapid footsteps behind them and they won't into a sudden stop. Moving like robots almost in unison. She looked about 5'5 in height, lithe, pale, and had short brown hair that barely stretched past the back of her neck.

"Um, officer Adams, I think this is your gun." She held out the gun by the grip in front of her, "I, uh think it's yours... I don't reall-"

The officer gave her a soft smile which Felton could tell wasn't genuine, "Yeah, I think I dropped it by mistake and that prisoner somehow got a hold of it,"

Her black eyes then switched over towards the prisoner he had, "Is he new here? I don't think I have ever seen him before..." Her eyes were intense and questioning, it was like looking straight into a flashlight. He badly wanted to look away, "I can take him in for you if you want. Just for a favor."

Officer Adams adopted a smile that was easily spotted as fake, "This is Tom Felton convicted of murder and no thank you, I'm putting him behind bars myself. " The officer and the prisoner then exchanged quick glances at each other.

Get rid of her.

The officer read the message set in his eyes and he looked back at the female officer in front of him. However, the female officer was examining the prisoner up and down and narrowed her eyes at him. Tom felt his heart skip a beat.

"Are you sure?" She asked almost skeptically.

"Positive," Adams replied curtly.

She took a deep breath, "Well then uh, I'll see you around... if you need to talk to me about..." She trailed off.

Adams rose a brow, "About?"

She shook her head, "Nothing nevermind." And with that, she quickly turned around and walked away in a hurry.

After she was completely gone, "Did you make sure to disable all of the cameras?" Tom asked.

"Yeah, we should be in the clear."

"Now we just need to find Mr. Fisk. Give him a little talking to."

"He's in a heavily guarded prison though. I doubt they'll let me pass considering my rank."

"Then we'll force our way through."

Adams gave him a glance, "They'll be on our tails after that and even if we do get out of here the whole city will be chasing us too."

Tom went silent for a while. Things were about to get tight. "Then we'll improvise."

"How sure are you that we'll get through this?"

Tom wanted to scold him forever questioning his intentions, but he was right. It had to be a little bit more complex than just improvising, especially here.

"Listen, I know you want to find this universe's you, but-"

"Hey! Are you going to put him in or just stand there!" An officer from a distance yelled. Both of them froze up, but Adams quickly yelled back, "He's giving me a little bit of trouble, on our way right now!" Adams tightened his grip on Tom's shoulder and together they walked through the corridors.

"We should be thankful we're even alive right now," Adams muttered.

Tom frowned, "Don't be such a pessimist, Adams. We made it this far because we actually thought things through. We can do that again. You're a smart guy, right? Plus, the officers are not all that bright," Felton heard an angry snort. A cold breeze slipped through two double doors as they were pushed open. Behind them were three officers dressed just like Adams and their eyes were set on Tom specifically. He hoped that they would just pass by but no, they blocked them from moving forward.

These guys don't look very happy.

Tom gulped.

"Where are you taking him, officer?"

"Cell B-1218. His name is Tom Felton, charged for murder."

The three officers looked at each other.

"But Cell B-1218 is that way," The officer pointed back towards the way they came.

Shit.

But, Adams was quick to recover, "I just thought I dropped my tazer around here so I came back to find it. I'm only carrying him around because he's known for escaping out of his cell before."

"But isn't he new here?"

"He was transferred. They postponed his court meeting at the other jail so they pushed it here."

The officer in the middle took a step forward, "I don't remember ever seeing a Tom Felton in court, Adams," The officer looked at both of his colleagues, "or... maybe we did? I'm not too sure."

"You don't believe me?"

"The whole image isn't looking too believable, Adams."

"Are you trying to accuse me for-"

"I didn't accuse you of anything, yet."

You worked here for years and you can't even tell a decent lie...?

Felton wanted to chime in. He had to, or things were going to get messy.

It would be pointless. They would never listen to a prisoner. Dammit, Adams, you just screwed this entire thing up. Just had to jump to conclusions so soon, didn't you?

The officer narrowed his eyes, "Now, I'm really waiting for a good explanation of what's going on here. You wouldn't want me to get Captain Armstrong in here would you?"

"You would do something so unnecessary?"

"Yes," The officer replied bluntly and he took another step forward, "I would. Because Adams... Tom Felton was supposed to be brought here next week and that man doesn't look anything like him. The real Felton has a scar on the bottom of his chin whereas this guy has a scar on his cheek."

"I guess you're half-right, officer, but... he's no man."

The officer chuckled incredulously, "Then what is-"

Felton all but broke out of the cuffs easily with his strength, aiming towards the officers and released a fury of webs towards the eyes. Adams taking advantage of the surprise attack ran up to the middle officer and whipped up his left elbow, ramming it into his chin and afterward, grabbing the full set of hair on top of his head with both hands and pulled him down to smack against his sharp knee. The officer howled in pain as he staggered back beside the two blinded officers. Blood stuck onto Adams pants.

Adams looked over at Felton, "I'll handle these three, you go after Fisk," he said.

Felton for a moment agreed to this with a nod, but by the time they both looked up, the two officers had ripped off the web from their eyes. Felton with narrowed eyes, clenched his fists tight. All of a sudden, the current thoughts floating around his mind had ceased. What substituted was a sudden urge. An urge that whipped through his body like an arrow flailing through the air. His calculating eyes darted from one officer to another. Planning his next move like an assassin in the night. And in swift fashion, Felton used his long strides to close the distance easily; throwing an energetic right hook toward the middle guard's already broken nose, then followed this up by grabbing the officer's collar, twirling his own body along with the officer's body for added force and accurately throwing him toward the officer on his right; watching their bodies collide before hitting the wall then the ground with a thud. However, his senses went on the immediate prowl.

The officer lingering on his left reached for his gun with haste and Felton found the muzzle glaring down upon his back. Felton moved his right hand over his stomach, aimed underneath his left pit, and fired a long web toward the muzzle of the gun that flawlessly stuck. There, he felt that moment of impact with the gun through the web fired, and he irresistibly gave a strengthful tug, pulling the officer towards him. However, the gun had fired and Felton spun his body around to his right, to dodge the bullet and to throw his leg up in the air and dropping it in a precise, downwards arc. Allowing the heel of his shoe to completely smash into the back of the officer's skull. The officer choked out a loud grunt as he made his descent towards the hard ground.

Again his senses alerted him.

Felton spiraled around again, throwing out his right hand, and firing another web towards the officer slowly trying to stand on his two feet again. The web raced through the air, the front of the web spreading out as if it was mimicking a giant hand reaching to grab something. Soon the web connected to the man's chest, and Felton with only his left arm yanked him towards himself and Felton caught his neck.

"I'll only ask once." Felton had let all the anger loose now. He was applying pressure to the neck and he could fear the officer's breath become panicked and limited.

Felton vigorously spat, "Where. Is. Fisk."

"I-I don't kn-"

"That isn't an answer!" Felton all but shouted, applying more pressure to the neck.

"He's... he's..."

"Felton, you're killing him," Adams yelled, but Felton ignored him.

"FELTON!" Adams all but shouted.

"I DON'T CARE!" Felton yelled back, "I'll destroy everyone in this building if I have to!"

"Are you hearing yourself- think! We're wasting time!"

"I'm getting impatient. It's either you tell me what I need to know, or I take your life away."

"I..." The officer was getting paler, "He's..."

Finally... say it, you bastard.

Felton frowned. "Where? He's where?" Felton shook the officer's body like a ragdoll, a thick cloud of anger evident in his eyes. Silence loomed over them. Felton no longer felt the officer's heavy breathes and he no longer saw the light in his eyes, "No... NO!"

"He's dead. You killed him."

"Shouldn't have made me ask twice."

Adams stated matter-a-factly, "We promised each other that the only people that would die tonight were those rotten prisoners, or us! Have you completely lost it!?"

Felton looked at the officer for a while before completely throwing him to the side. He looked up at Adams, "Regardless on whether we killed someone or not, we're still criminals. The both of us. Whether we kill someone tonight, they won't change their views on me, but when they found out you were working with me. They will definitely change their view of you."

"What the hell happened to you? Don't you remember who you were!?"

"Spider-Man died a long time ago, Adams. People don't believe in him anymore. I don't believe in him anymore."

"What type of talk is that? Your whole idea was that anyone could wear the mask. Anyone could take up that mantle. You're stomping all over what was given to you. How would Peter feel about this?"

INTRUDER ALERT ON SECTOR SIX

The intense voiced screamed through the speaker on the wall. Felton and Adams looked at each other.

"I'll handle this, you go find him," Adams suggested.

Felton was a little caught off guard, "But you're just a mere man. You won't be able to take them all on."

"I know."

Footsteps were thudding loudly outside of the door. They were nearing and time was running out. Adams glared at Felton more harshly.

"Go!"

And Felton ran off in the other direction.

The footsteps were getting louder. Adams closed his eyes and really listened.

Sounds like a stampede out there.

Adams glanced over his shoulder at the three bodies that were already without movement. He jogged over towards them and picked up one of the already loaded guns. After a quick examination over it, he put his hand at the top of the muzzle and cocked it back, ensuring that a round remained inside the chamber in which it did. His eyes switched over to the double doors again, and he caught the shadows slipping underneath the door.

Felton sprinted through the corridors and slammed into the double doors with his shoulders. Feeling the biting, cold air start to radiate around his body. The room had been completely dark. Only light looked down upon one single, cube-shaped cell. A figure stood in it with his back turned towards Felton dressed in the usual prisoner attire, bright orange, and his height was stunning to Felton. This had to have been him.

"Wilson Fisk, I presume?"

The man didn't turn around.

"My name is Tom Felton. I've come to have a little chat with you."

There he finally turned around. Wilson Fisk. The powerful businessman that pulls the strings behind the crimes of New York. All hair shaven off, eyes cold and expressionless, Felton stared him down with fists balled.

"Tom Felton..." He murmured to himself quietly. His eyes scanned over Felton, examining him as if some priceless artifact. "I assume you've come here to kill me like all the rest that have tried?"

So much for reputation.

"I've just come here for answers," Felton added in an assuring tone. His hands feeling numb.

"I'm not the guy you're lookin' for. I don't give answers. Not to anyone."

"Did you say the same thing in the interrogation room too? I surely hope not. Because you really don't want to know my method of the hard way."

Fisk stayed silent.

"I'd say it seems like you look kinda comfy behind those bars. The setting fits you well. Especially after all the people you've killed."

Again, no reply.

"C'mon, you've spent years trying to kill Spider-Man, and he's finally dead. You must feel some sort of relief from that right? He's driven you down to your core. Beaten you down until your own dignity was belittled by that overwhelming feeling of shame. It cost you your wife, it cost your son. It cost you everything Fisk-"

"AND SO WHAT!?" He roared, "I could never get my hands on that little freak! And now that he's gone, how can I pay him back for what he did to me!?"

Felton's noticed his body had tensed and his hand for a moment was quivering. He was pulling back on that instinct to attack at the abrupt shout. Fisk's walls had easily been broken down. He had revealed himself all too easily- how pathetic he looked.

"Years have passed and now I realize how much of my life was wasted upon this idea of childish revenge. My passion was to change this city, but there will always be that one person to stand in your way. If you want something done it requires persistence. I never gave up on what I wanted. Manipulation was just another piece to the puzzle as were the rest of my crimes."

Felton scoffed.

Surely not what I expected of a crimelord.

"It sounds to me you were playing the childish game long before Spider-Man ever came into the picture. You have no one else to blame but yourself."

"I wanted to create an empire. I had a dream-"

Felton walked up to the cell, "You had delusions. You thought that what? You could create this powerful empire without having that someone to resist those wicked morals? There will always be resistance in this world, Fisk, only the weak break apart, and you did."

Felton's eyes switched over behind him, peaking through the small rectangular windows on the double doors. He could hear the shoes of dozens of officers with probably loaded guns become more and more audible. He looked back at Fisk, then back at the doors. Fisk was completely broken down and for a moment Felton thought he would work with him to get out of here.

He's already too ruined enough though.

"Why do you care so much? What business is it to you?"

The question pricked at his skin, "Because you're a useful tool to me, Fisk,"

"Well, I don't know if you've noticed, stranger, but your tool is stuck in a cell."

Felton gave a toothy grin, "Well a handyman always takes care of his products," Felton began walking, "Now let's get you out of here."

Felton aimed towards the prison cell door and shot a solid web towards it. Pulling on it, and the door was snatched off, sliding against the floor with a loud screech. Felton glared at Fisk, and once again he looked back over his shoulder towards doors as loud footsteps reached his ears, and with extreme force, cops bust through the door with extreme force. Felton's swiftly spun around, bracing himself to dodge bullets, but before he could pinpoint how many cops there were. A loud bang sounded off in the dark room. Thick smoke devoured the atmosphere and spread through the room. Felton found himself swatting some of the smoke from his vision; his eyes clouded by the pale, transparent matter.

Now, he could hear - left and right - boots beating against the ground like a drum. He was completely surrounded. Then, he heard violent juddering above him, and craned his neck to look up into the ceiling. It sounded like...

A Helicopter, dammit. I took too long, and now I got guns glaring at me like angry bulls. I make one sudden move and I'm toast.

Felton's heart clenched, he slowly looked around him. He could almost feel the red dots squared on his body. Felton had never been completely vulnerable like this. It felt overwhelming, but it was also angering because it was such a rarity for someone of his skill and precise battle-planning. Felton slowly slipped his hand into his pocket and in retaliation, he heard the cocking of guns around him, however, he let his left hand rest in his pocket.

Maaaaybe getting a little bit too arrogant there.

"Mr. Felton," Someone regarded him with a cold, deep tone at the doors. Felton looked over at the man. He could see a tall, shadow behind the smoke, and what emerged was no surprise to him. Felton could also make out that the man wore glasses, and he wore a black suit, a black dress shirt, and black pants, along with black shoes. "I implore you to think about making you're next move very carefully."

Felton frowned.

No doubt about it.

"Dr. Curt Connors, it's been a hell of a long time, hasn't it?"

"Maybe it has. I don't really keep track of time these days, or maybe I just don't care enough." Connors coughed into his hand, then spoke again, "But to get to the point, I see you've caused a bit of wreckage in my facility."

Felton looked around at the guns pointing at him, Fisk was even looking at him too. Felton looked back and Connors and shrugged.

"Oops."

"Well, you're forgiven, yes? Since we have you trapped, and the prisoner you murdered. I guess you can go right in the cell you murdered him in."

"Aren't you going to bury the body somewhere?"

"I'd much rather let it rot in there with you. He was due for the death penalty anyway so you actually made our job a lot easier."

Felton gestured to the officers with guns, "This is what you call easy? Knocked three of your officers unconscious."

"Not three, two. You killed the other one remember?"

Felton threw up his hands to act innocent, "What makes you think it was me? Could've been shot accidentally."

Connors coughed in his hand again, "The web."

Oh.

"So now you're a convicted murderer. Such a pity, Felton. You were Spider-Man now you're a criminal. How far you've fallen. It's a shame, really, and pertinent to that, you used to have a friend that was close. Think she was from another universe, but I haven't really put much thought to it."

And Felton knew exactly who he was referring to, but he wouldn't dare utter that name.

"I suppose... Adams is dead?"

Connors shook his head, "Escaped. He worked with you didn't he?"

"He had to, or I would play the adjudicator and decide whether to kill him or his friends. Whatever happens now decides that."

The two glared each other down. Inspecting each other, waiting for one to make the first move. Felton's hand twitched a little.

"I guess I'm far from ever convincing you to go back to doing good. Making this city better, because you're too far in the deep end."

Felton frowned, "You don't know a thing about me," A bitter laugh escaped from Felton's lips, "How easy for you to judge me from the sidelines. You cops. You've become so forceful over the past years you don't deserve to call yourselves the good guys. The people out there fear you. Fear how far you will go to show who's in control here. They fear the government too, considering you work for them and obey them like strict dogs."

"Crime has decreased ever since the establishment of The End Order. We took what Spider-Man gave us and-"

"Stomped all over it," Felton took a step closer, and he knew the cops were itching to pull that trigger, but Felton wasn't fazed, "Look real closely, Connors. Have they cured the Lizard side of you yet? What did they use to call you? Lizard guy or Lizard man right? How do you think people would feel knowing their leader was a murderous giant pile of chemical mess-up that terrorized this city? What if they knew that you attempted to murder Spider-Man and that the rumors were always true."

Connors lip twitch, "What rumors?"

"That you killed Spider-Man."

"You dare assume something like that?"

"It does make sense after all. You had this urge to murder and torture Spider-Man, but you failed even as The Lizard. Eventually, they cure you, but how would we know that you didn't share that same intent even if you were a human again?"

"Cured, yes," He coughed again, and adjusted his glasses, "but we still have to get rid of this tiny insignificant disease rotting around in our city."

"And what's that doc?"

"You."

Shit!

"FIRE!"

Felton threw out his hand and slapped the complexly built watch on his wrist. In an instant, a circular portal summoned that whirled rapidly, and Felton sparing no hesitance jumped inside the portal as he heard the sound of gunshots go off which then he made his inevitable flea into the next universe.

"HOLD YOUR FIRE! HOLD YOU FIRE!" Connors shouted, hoping that anyone didn't accidentally get shot by the rapid fire of bullets. He looked around and saw that all the officers were clueless, but Connors knew exactly what he did.

Traveled to another universe again.

Connors watched a group of four officers gather around a sitting officer. He feared for the worst. Then something else caught Connors gaze. Bigger than the gathered group he had just seen. This time all of the officers excluding the group of four were gathered around a body and it was inside the cell. Then, he replayed the events that had transpired and he saw a couple of officers still shooting at something.

Fisk.

He soon realized.

Somehow he broke out and tried to attack one of our guys, and it gave Felton a chance to get away. But Fisk knew he would die by doing something like that, and Fisk barely knew Felton. I know that for sure. Either Felton is very convincing with his words, or Fisk... chose to die that way.

A female officer approached beside him, "Sir, one of our men are hurt from a bullet." She was one of the best officers here. Her eyes were the piercing blue, and her hair black. Her right hand was covered entirely with a black leather glove. It was rumored that someone burned her hand as she was a child, maybe when she had been going through her rough childhood. She was eighteen.

Connors sighed, "As expected. How bad is it?"

"Not that much bleeding but just to be safe we're already transporting him to a nearby hospital, and we'll get Fisk's body out of here soon. No update on Adams."

Another weight on my shoulders, I feel exhausted.

He looked at the officer and smiled, "It's good to see you Cadet Armstrong. I see you're trying your best to beat your father in the rankings, hmm?"

She looked away and laughed, "I'll never get to where he's at. Soon he's going to retire, and I want to be here looking after this place when he's gone."

Connors looked over at Fisk's body. There was now emergency staff dressed in white tending to Fisk's body and the blood on the ground.

"Oh, and we found something else," She pulled out a pocket-watch, entirely black, but the inside contained a small picture. Two teenagers Connors could guess. They were grinning and they were close together while someone was in the background of a bus it looked like sleeping. One was in a Spider-Man outfit, a little bit too big for him. The female was in her own outfit and her hairstyle...

Jesus, did she fight a cat?

He closed the watch and put it in his own pocket for closer examination later, and sighed.

"What happened to Felton?"

"He got away, you know, inter-dimensional travel it's a thing now. He was the one to truly utilize it by creating a device to travel to any universe he wants. That's how he's able to stuff like that."

"Do we have any background on him? Family, his real universe, or anything?"

Connor chuckled, "We were so desperate one day to find out who this guy was because you know, he's not actually from this universe. His universe is a mystery, but if there's one of you, there's at least another one of you in another dimension. We DNA tested an entire high school, we were a bit harsher than intended, but a job is a job, and a job comes first. Eventually, we found a match. He was the last kid we expected if I'm being honest. From what we were told by his classmates, he was smart, just lazy with his work. He was a senior like you. Really tried fitting in."

"What was the kid's name?"

He looked at her.

"Miles Morales."