[AUTHOR'S NOTE]

Hi there! I'm relatively new to the Spider-Man multiverse as it is, but after having recently watched Ultimate Spider-Man episode "The Moon Knight Before Christmas", I have to say … I actually Quentin Beck's daughter, Frances Beck. I like it how the writers of that series gave the Mysterio of that universe a different spin on his family and life that's more heartfelt, and as much as I could find on the Internet, there are literally no other fanfics about Frances Beck that loveable young adult lady. I just feel she had so much potential.

So I decided to write something about her. This is an AU fanfic based of the Ultimate Spider-Man's Earth 12041 setting. I wrote this first entry as I go along with whatever thoughts I have in my head. There is a second chapter though.

I'm not sure that I will write more of this in the future since I have next to nothing creatively on the MCU (please forgive me for any inconsistency or inaccuracy on my part), but if you like it and enjoy it, thanks a lot, and I hope you have a great day.

1: Reminiscence

Frances woke up. It was a cool summer in New York of August 2018, but she found herself sweating in her pyjamas on her moderately-comfortable bed. She slowly sat up on her bed and took the nearest handkerchief to wipe the sweat off her face and the scalp of her short bobbed-haired head. She sighed heavily and glanced opposite her to her desk.

"Alright … another day … I can do this. Just stay calm Frances, you can bear through another day." She stood up and did some stretch-ups. "You can prove your independence … just … fine."

She gasped for some cool air and went for a bath, with the new day's clothes waiting for her beside the tub.

New York. The city of dreams. People bustling about with their lifes, keeping this huge place alive with everyday economics, culture, education, leisure. And for Frances too, it was her dream to be stably balance between her superheroine motif and her own education. The cold sweat this morning was one of many that occurred in the past months as a result of this new stress to juggle herself well.

"Morning breakfast … then more exercise, and the afternoon class sessions, a check-up at Standard Co again … and patrolling the night. Yeah. Should be done. At the very least I'll get my pay again." She murmured after completing a bath, drying herself and got into her casual jeans, thick blouse and prepared a woolly jacket nearby.

She prepared some toast, spread on the jam and poured a glass of chocolate milk from the refrigerator in her dining room. She looked around once before eating. Her apartment unit consisted of a sizable living room with a TV hung on a wall, a tale with her laptop between the TV and a couch with red wallpaper and few wall-hung pictures; a decent kitchen with microwave, oven and cooker and refrigerator and washing and drying machines for self-done laundry; her room with simple lighting, another desk for diary-writing, a shelf for her many college books and her wardrobe for all the clothes she needed and her green latex jumpsuit costume purple cape and a brand new headbowl, and the bathroom for quick-ease shower, mirror, bath accessories and blow-dryer. Her room's window had a nice view over mid-urbs New York, and if she bent for a moment she could even see 432 Park Avenue.

"Alright, time to strengthen myself." Frances had taken five minutes to finish her entire breakfast, another two minutes to wash everything up and sort out her college items for the day. She would gently exercise for the next two hours before going to her college for classes. Ironically, she never sweated at all during her exercise – meaning she was calm.

Frances Beck – daughter of illusionist Quentin Beck. She grew up well into late teenhood with her mum and dad, quite unaware of her father's legacy until news came from the police that he mysteriously disappeared following a call to the cops from a distraught colleague at the entertainment company. And then life became hell. Disease and insufficient funds claimed her mother, she barely managed to graduate without family to savour it, she had to fight her way in life to survive, and by sheer luck she chanced upon the legacy of her father in the form of the green-crossed elastic latex jumpsuit and cape, and the secret (unknown to her at the time) dark arts secrets Quentin Beck learned from Dormammu.

One month after nine months of self-practice in discipline, dark arts mastery and adjusting into her costume, she confronted Spider-Man and Moon Knight at the manor of Doctor Strange, reuniting with her father. Her hatred for Spider-Man melted and gave way to a new desire to put whatever demonic powers she had for good (fortunately, her learning the dark arts did not bind her soul to Dormamu's biding), hence her enrolling into S.H.I.E.L.D to master the concept of openness and teamwork with other fellow superheroes.

Then suddenly, three months into a relatively joyous period, more bad luck struck.

It felt as if a distant snap of fingers happened at the far edge of existence. She witnessed her new friends and colleagues disappear into dust, S.H.I.E.L.D crumbled, nations and people experienced a relatively quick period of total chaos before the world pulled itself together. Everything she knew in the past was gone, and she was alone again.

A few weeks later, some conglomerate came knocking on her door, claiming to inherit the database of S.H.I.E.L.D amidst the chaos of national readjustment, claiming to know of her past and came with news that she was the only superhero-esque identity around. Standard Co. needed her to be the new superhero identity around to restore calm and order to a city, if not the state or country, suddenly flooded with opportunistic baddies, petties and conmen of all type.

Frances vividly remembered the day she met the men in black (stereotypical, clichéd) and … him.

"W – why should I have to come and sign up with you out of the blue? Are you trying to take advantage of me!?" She bellowed in her decrepit and empty home, completely in casuals and not her jumpsuit. "I've already faced enough throughout my life! Leave me alone!"

"We're aware of that." A dispassionate man with grey shades and suit countered. "However … based on the database we have, we feel you're the only one who fits up to the criteria we need. To at least restore New York to some semblance of the way it was. Spider-Man, Iron Man, everyone and everything is gone … we need you."

"I – I don't believe it! Show your proof!" Frances withdrew her right arm backward, glowing in green and ready to do combat.

"P – please … come with me … I beg you …" A soft voice spoke from behind the crowd of dispassionate men, who then surfaced with a sad and pitiable face in his own street-cred attire. "Please do this for me … if not New York …"

"J – Jon?" She got rid of her offensive posture and her anger melted from her face. She remembered Jonathan Albright, the lone son of a pharmaceutical magnate or sorts, who was always alone and bullied in junior to high school, meaning her very long-time friend from her past. She always hung out with him (besides her own family) in school, but after the fiasco of her father's disappearance and graduation, she never got in touch with him. She remembered his kind personality and all the relatively happy times they had together. Tears came to her face.

"I … I lost my parents recently. So … by virtue, I own everything that's left of us at Standard Co. I … I was shocked to see you in the S.H.I.E.L.D database, but … hey, at least we can start somewhere and go up and down together, right?" Jon made a weak smile at her. "And besides, we got huge loans from the President to collect and regroup whatever the government assigned us to do. And … we can be together! I can help you! Will … you help me?"

He reached out his empty left hand. Frances didn't know what happened, but she lost her composure altogether. She cried aloud as the numerous terrible circumstances came hitting her in the mindscape. She fell but she was held steadily by Jon's caring arms and person.

"It's okay. It's okay." He could only whisper softly in her ears. "I'm here … and I'll be here for you all the way. Speak of whatever you want, I can give it to you."

Frances continued her exercising. Her vivid flashback ended, and was superseded by blurry recollections of what happened thereafter. She remembered being warm in the embrace of Jon, being taken to a huge building (but not that imposing of a skyscraper in New York itself) and its underground facility for processing, being evaluated by supernatural scientists, going through tests to prove her own superpowers – such as summoning and controlling inter-dimensional creatures to her will, animating inanimate objects to her will, levitation, various other skills of object controls, and certifying her status as New York's newest superhero. They did proceed to engineer for her a brand new headbowl to finalize the secrecy of her identity. These all happened one year prior to today.

She stood up and flexed her arms. Breathed in and out. She thrusted both open palms forward, caused them to glow in green and created several swirling portals on her walls and floor. All sorts of eerie noises could be heard from the depths of the portals to infinite dimensions beyond.

She was calm though, for as long as she put her mind to it, as long as she didn't mentally 'pick' or 'enter their minds and meddled with them', no creatures would surface. She thrusted her hands backwards dramatically, and all the portals vanished. Fortunately too, for if she ruined this apartment Jon paid for, it would spell trouble for everyone.

"Jon …" She placed both her hands to herself. "Thanks so much for all you've done to help me. Giving me a chance at school, helping me become stable … but … I really hope I can get it all under control …"

Frances remembered Jon arranging for a new home, arranging for the minimal furniture and clothes and food to live on, arranging for entry into a New York university (a university that also hosted her college) (impressive considering that America was rushing to recuperate at the time) and having some semblance of normal life before everyone disappeared into the dust.

She didn't not feel so good when that happened. She was fine. But she saw everything and everyone disappear before her eyes. Including her father. It was still an emotional obstacle in her mind she has yet to overcome one year on, but she felt she was making good progress. Especially since emotional stability is key to being a good student and a good superheroine to the city.

Frances stopped exercising. Sure, she had thirty more minutes left for specifically exercising, but she decided to stop for now and make an early start to college. She didn't sweat, she was fine in her casual clothes. She picked up her bag and two chemical engineering textbooks and moved out of her apartment. And thus began her afternoon schedule.

The first few times she was directed to handle petty crimes in New York streets can be said to be meh-ish, as she had yet to recuperate from the collective traumatizing feelings and it affected her supernatural abilities to rein in crime. However, thankfully, in between studying and fighting, she found time to exercise and meditate calmly to chill out her mind. For the next six months, she was doing as fine as what one would expect for a superhero. Raising demons to withhold criminals in their place, calling portions of Multi-Angled Ones to clamp down on kingpins and criminal organizations, warping criminals that escaped to more secure cells. These acts led to a rise in her secret identity's popularity in New York. At one point, even the Mayor called her to honour the city hall with her presence.

Frances caught the local numbered bus at a stop that she knew would head to her college. Not as crowded as she remembered it to be before The Snap (that self-made term rung well with her) and grabbed a seat for herself. She closed her eyes and got a rest. In her mind, she thought back on the moment four months ago that Mayor Yorsten called her to city hall and tried to pry something out of her – which then became a good highlight for her superheroine career.

"We thank you so much for cleaning our streets and letting our people recuperate from the disaster one year ago with magnificent smiles, and with knowledge that they are safe in making New York great again!" The rotund Mayor Yorsten waved his hands to the crowd below him, and the crowd cheered loudly. Some ever sported home made posters and balloons to support her.

Frances was full in her latex green jumpsuit, purple overflowing cape, and the Standard Co. headbowl. No one could see her face, just a round silhouette of it. She smiled to herself and simply waved at the adoring folk.

"Say, my lady, we've sent you going around stomping out crime, making us safe, but … we've never had the honour of hearing your name! Or at least your secret identity!" Mayor Yorsten joked. "Care to share it with us, so that our great city may align it forever more with its good memory?"

She recalled herself wanting to avenge her father's name out of vengeance against Spider-Man a long time ago, and the memory of that motivation returned. It was a rough eight months or so, but now that the city doesn't remember the legacy of the old Mysterio, her father, she wanted to make it good now. She also thought of making it change to suit her being – like Lady Mysterio or some derivative of it. In the end …

"Simple. It's Mysterio. The name means magic, magic that will keep you and everyone safe."

Those sentences were uttered, and she didn't remember what happened afterwards. There was so much cheery noise, maybe even confetti and photographer photo-snapping – maybe even for the Daily Bugle, who knows; is J. Jonah Jameson still around after The Snap? – and more of the Mayor's happy egging. But she did remember conjuring a portal only she could go through and then plopped back in her apartment safely. She removed all her gear and costume off her person when the portal vanished, and decided to drop on her bed and take a name.

And sure enough, that's when the moniker Mysterio gained the reputation of a secretive female warrior (sorta) and not that of a illusionist coming solely after Spider-Man.

She smiled inwardly and let the bus engine rumble to her college.