Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel

Well here's the next arc, introducing some of the bad guys for the foreseeable future of this fic. As well as the seeds of future characters and arcs.

Marvellous World

Arc 2: Heroes and Villains

Chapter 1: Rising Evil

'Focus, focus,' Sven thought.

He stood on the roof of a building, overlooking a fire. His jacket was resting on a vent, and he analysed the building on fire. Big enough for the fire brigade to keep it contained, but too big for the fighters to risk going in if anyone was out of it. Sven took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

'Concentrate, focus, fuse with the point your feet touch, fuse with the air that touches your skin, manifest just enough of the armour to protect you and not weigh you down, keep your heart open so that their feelings can reach you,' Sven thought as the blue markings covered his body.

The gloves and boots appeared on him, followed by a mask on his mouth. Crouching at first, he built up his power and then launched himself like a pinball. Sven passed through one of the walls, the fire coming out at the point of impact.

'Relieve the amount of flames, give the smoke an opening to come out of for better vision,' he told himself. 'Keep low, move fast, concentrate!' he reminded himself with each jump.

Jumping across the walls, Sven dashed quickly from one end of the corridor to the other.

'Concentrate on the fear,' he smashed through one wall, grabbing two children out of their bedroom. 'On the hope,' he smashed through the floor, then through two more walls to reach another trapped at the stairwell.

'Focus, use their faith, their hope, and FUSE!' the three people he had saved turned into orbs that flew into Sven's body.

His skin glowed, the sparks of red, purple and green crackled around him. Sven crashed through one of the windows, holding two more people in his arms. He landed near the paramedics, yelling as the fusion faded. Those five he rescued were laid out beside him.

"Two possible shock victims, one suffering mild smoke inhalation, one with a second degree burn on the right arm," he explained, before jumping to the building again.

'The air fuels the flames, but you can use it too by fusing with it. Maintain the buildings structural integrity, through fusion,' Sven planned out his move, touching one of the walls.

His blue aura spread throughout the building. Underneath his mask, Sven grit his teeth together. He knew if he lost concentration for even a moment he would empower every building in the block. That would overload his powers, and probably physically damage his body. Tipping onto one toe, he began to spin, building up his speed.

'Use the increasing speed, to create a wind funnel, and draw the flames to you!'

Flames began circling around him, as he span faster and faster. Jumping, the flaming tornado Sven had become launched itself far above the buildings. The flames dispersed when he stopped spinning and began falling towards the ground. Sven opened his eyes, feeling the air rushing through his hair.

'Oh shit, you jumped too high stupid!' he cursed himself.

He missed his landing point, his hand dragging itself against the side of the nearest building. It wouldn't be enough to stop him from hitting the ground. There was a 'whoosh' sound and something grabbed Sven. His hand was being held by a red gauntlet, Sven looked into the glowing white slits of a gold faceplate, a line in the mouth area representing its mouth.

"Iron man!" Sven gasped.

"Thanks for the help kid," underneath the armour, Tony smiled.

He dropped the boy onto the top of a building, turning his now more advanced armour. As well as a bit more streamlined, the armour had red pads on the shoulders and red on the knees and highlighting the gold on his arms. Iron man targeted the building, releasing locks on his gauntlets.

"Deploying extinguishing rockets," he fired the 'weapons' releasing clouds of gas into the building.

Inside that building, Marvel Girl lowered the debris that had been raining down on her and her team mates. Iceman extinguished flames, as did Cyclops (using the concussive force of his blasts to affectively 'suffocate' the flames). Beast was treating the person they rescued.

"Don't worry Jono, you'll be okay," Hank said.

"Dude, half his face has been blown off!" Bobby said, earning a rock thrown by Jean.

"Stark foundation vehicles are on their way," Angel said, flying around the perimeter.

"MRD response time reduced by one minutes and thirty seconds," Sage sat within the mansion's command centre, the data she manipulated reflected in her glasses.

"Intercepted chatter between police and MRD, they're sceptical about whether a report on some kid with golden balls is a mutant," Cypher reported, sitting behind Sage.

"Golden balls, you don't mean OW!" Bobby yelped, his humour earning another stone from Jean.

"Remember as we practiced Jean, project an image into the minds of the Paramedics and foundation staff, keep their eyes focused on Jono," Charles telepathically contacted the X-men.

He sat on Cerebro, watching through his powers the actions of the team he had brought together. Charles also saw the brave actions of the New York paramedics and the Maria Stark foundation volunteers, Hank Pym amongst them.

"He has a projection mutation, we have a containment unit on the truck, we also have gear to stabilise him. I'm going to need a list of surgeons for treating his jaw injury, I'll have a team standing by to equip medical staff for protection," Pym explained.

"Belay it Pym, he might not make it in time, and the closest hospital is known for rejecting mutant patients. Stark recently purchased a project building, it's sturdy enough to endure the kid's blasts and it can be retrofitted with the equipment you already have. A message has been sent to Doctor Donald Blake, he'll attend to the boy's treatment with a few more responding volunteers," Iron man explained.

"When did Stark make the purchase?" Pym asked.

"Just now," Tony grinned.

He flew away from the building, using the controls in his fingers to deactivate his link to the estate agency and insurance company. Sven watched as Iron man, and the Stark foundation truck drove away, smiling underneath his mask.

'Heroes,' he thought.

They existed, from different walks of life. Fabio Medina used his projection mutation to save a life. The gold ball he produced from his chest prevented a little girl falling from a tree, the girl bouncing off of it with a 'poink' sound. The girl and her mother were relieved and happy. But those whom hated mutants didn't care for what Fabio had done. One even threw a glass bottle at him. Fabio's blood spread across the grass of central park, the girl he saved screaming.

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!" one man bellowed.

Jefferson had been passing with his wife and son. Rio was an experienced nurse, and rushed to help Fabio.

"GO ON GET OUT OF HERE!" Jefferson yelled, several others helped him in intimidating the anti-mutant people away.

"SPIDER-MAN!" Jefferson's son yelled at the sky.

Peter was very late for his next class. But when he saw the boy in the black and red hoodie, waving his arms about, he knew someone was in trouble. He'd be late for class, but he would save Fabio's life. And as opposed to being traumatised from witnessing the event, Jefferson and Rio's son would spend the rest of the day talking about his hero Spider-man.

'Curious,' he thought, looking at the mortals around him.

The merging process with the billionaire had been easy. Effectively replacing the man's soul, he took not just his body but his mind too. It didn't take long for him to become aware of all that occurred in Midgard, regarding mutant kind and the new champions.

'Do they fancy themselves gods now I wonder,' he mused.

He looked up at the fat man, Wilson Fisk, they all clambered to shake his hand, or just to speak with him.

'Perhaps he and his kind are the closest this world will know to kings,' he huffed, twirling his cane and looking across the room.

He had more souls to grant to potential followers. Although he admitted they might not follow him. Only two were guaranteed, he smirked, already seeing a potential candidate. The woman his host had been intending on seducing. Raising his cane, he looked at her through the gem. With a blink, he released the soul trapped inside, allowing it to fly into the woman. She jerked, collapsing on her table for a moment. When she raised her head, her eyes glowed green. He walked towards her, touching her bare shoulder.

"Welcome to Midgard Amora," he said.

She stood, a look of disdain crossing her face as she looked around the room.

"This, what has become of Midgard, where are the fur hides? Why do they not kneel?" she demanded.

"Mrs Eve, is everything all right?" one of the waiters asked.

"No, I demand more, better food, better wine, bring it to me slave," she said.

"Slave, I beg your pardon?" the man asked, frowning at her.

"I said," her voice seemed to echo in his ears as she touched his chin. "You will retrieve for me the greatest wine you can offer!"

A green glow passed through the man's eyes, before he walked away.

"Yes mistress," he droned.

Fisk looked towards the incident, narrowing his eyes at the odd behaviour of the runner up for the philanthropist award. Still, he had done his part for the moment. Making his way out to the front, he got into his car.

"Thank you Wesley," he said to his assistant.

"Yes sir, I took the liberty of informing Mrs Fisk and putting up the reservation time," the man said, tilting his glasses up his nose.

"Very good Wesley, is there anything else?" Fisk asked.

The car groaned under Fisk's weight. But it was still able to drive through the streets, the two passengers hidden from the view of the cameras flashing at it.

"Osborn's influence within the MRD and the WDRA has grown, they're turning to him in the absence of Stark industries," Wesley said.

"Ergo, they're turning to us, excellent, do we have anyone on the inside?"

"Yes sir, the reports indicate that the facility is in danger of being discovered."

"Ah, yes, their inability to capture Captain America," Fisk said.

"Yes sir..." Wesley lowered his head slightly.

"What is it Wesley?" Wilson asked.

"Do you truly believe it? That Rogers survived all those years frozen?" Wesley asked.

"Doctor Erskine was very much a man ahead of his time. His research on mutation and neogenics was more than simple performance enhancement for the military. The super soldier serum was perhaps the key to human evolution, Captain Rogers is the only source of the serum left, fortunately we have a means to create more contained within the WDRA," Fisk explained.

"Should we attempt to retrieve Captain Rogers?"

"An attempt should perhaps be made," Fisk said.

"I will make arrangements for a retrieval squad," Wesley said.

"No, use our contacts on the streets, call in Hammerhead, I want a small, six man group!"

"Very well sir!"

Herman Schultz slammed his fists against the punching bag. The haul of his latest job was safe, but he still had some crew issues to deal with. Most were good, friends and solid guys who would never become rats. Except for the new member of the crew. The kid walked into the gym, some of the others behind him.

"Hey Schultz!"

He punched the bag a few more times, the other men were quite. They had known Herman long enough to know he didn't tolerate stupidity in his gang. Herman began to unravel the bandages around his knuckles, letting the new guy grow impatient.

"Look boss I had a girl waiting at home, couldn't you have just called?"

"I heard you got yourself a new car Billy," Herman said.

"Oh it's a sweet ride, Stark Tech, top of the line, on sale too..."

"But still within the Thirty K area, what did I say Billy?" Herman asked.

"I bought it under my mother's name, I bought...

"What did I say?"

"It was under my...

"WHAT DID I SAY!" Herman yelled.

Billy finally looked at Herman with the fear he was supposed to. The other members of the crew remained stone faced. Though Alex, whom brought Billy in looked apologetic.

"This is on me boss, I should have made it clear to him," he said.

"Yeah, you should have," Herman seethed.

He grabbed the bell weight and smacked Billy across the face. Bringing it down on the man's head, twice, then a third time for good measure. Herman stepped back, wiping the sweat off of his brow.

"Do I need to explain myself?" he asked, setting his brown hair back into place.

"Idiot was using cash at the most expensive places!"

"Nice car, stupid to have bought it now."

"He would have made a deal with the cops, he looked like the kind of guy who would."

"Don't worry Alex," Herman turned to his friend and patted his shoulder. "I'm to blame for this too, I'll help clean..." he stopped, seeing his phone vibrate on the bench.

Herman sighed as he picked up the phone, the number he expected.

"On second thought, sorry Alex but you're on your own with this," Herman said.

"I understand, I'll make the arrangements," Alex said.

Herman put the phone in his pocket, put on his jacket and hugged his loyal crew members. Then he got into his car and drove to his off the grid workshop. Opening the metallic door, he walked into what was to some a private garage. For him though it was where he constructed the tools for his scores. A pair of gauntlets were on the table, having recently been worked on. Herman opened his case, revealing a harness and insulated suit, some alloys had been sown into the fabric too. Then there was the mask, a padded yellow and red mask.

Adrian Toomes swallowed his tablets, playfully gargling. It always made Tiana laugh. Apart from Nathan, some of the older neighbours always looked at Adrian funny when his granddaughter and her mother visited. Adrian never was ignorant, never did use the old terms when referring to a person's skin colour. Even though they looked nothing alike, they had the same blood and Adrian loved the girl. Lifting her off of the floor, he hugged her, laughing as she rubbed his bald head.

"Careful Adrian," his daughter in law Lenora said, bringing in shopping from her car.

"Lenora please, I'm perfectly capable of walking to the store," he said, putting Tiana down and pushing her to her play room.

"Did you take your pills?" Lenora asked.

"Young lady, I take the pills at the exact time the doctor recommends, without fail. Now you remember what I told you two years ago?"

"Frankie is a piece of shit!"

"No! Well...yes I did say that," Adrian rolled his eyes, remembering his youngest and most disappointing child.

Valeria became a success, married and had a grandson. Though they never visited him, Adrian loved them all. His son Frankie however got Lenora pregnant and walked out on her not long after Tiana was born. Adrian still considered him a son, still loved him, but he wasn't going to bail him out anymore.

"I had a minor stroke, that will not stop me from doing the things I enjoy...and if it kills me it kills me," Lenora mocked Adrian's voice.

"I believe I was more inspiring than that, but no, I'll take the pills, I eat healthier now but I will not stop living an independent life," Adrian said.

"Fair enough," Lenora wiped her eyes.

"Come here now," he opened his arms, bringing her in for a hug. "I got lucky, I admit that, forty years in Aerospace engineering and over four hundred test flights, and high cholesterol is my greatest danger."

"You've done so much for us," Lenora whispered.

"You are my family girl, I love you both," Adrian said.

As he hugged his daughter in law however, Adrian's eyes were drawn to his phone, vibrating on the kitchen counter. It could wait, his family was his priority. They spent their time watching a film Tiana liked on the Disney streaming site. Adrian hugged them both goodbye and waited, waited for the car to drive away, waited until he was sure they were away from the area. He took his jacket from the wardrobe, a green leather jacket with a white fur collar. Toomes put the jacket on as he walked down to the basement. Pulling the chord on the hanging light, he illuminated his work bench, his backpack already on it. Above the table, on the shelves were a set of metallic gloves and boots with talons on them. And a helmet, the air force breather mask on it adapted with armour, giving it the appearance of a beak.

Maxwell Dillon checked over his sister's circuit breaker. Once he was sure it was fixed, he closed the cupboard and turned to her.

"All right, try it not," he said.

She turned on her TV, smiling as it came alight.

"You'll probably have to sign in to all your streaming services again," he said.

"Thanks again Max, how have things gone with you?" she asked.

"Keeping busy, I broke up with the bitch," he said.

"Frye? Thank god, she was all sorts of crazy!"

"I know Allison I know, she wasn't good for me, not that I can find a lot of women who'd be into...well this," Max indicated the burns on his face.

He'd been an electrical engineer for Oscorp, but was injured due to an accident in one of their labs. Oscorp paid more to keep him quiet then out of compensation, firing him on paper and putting the accident on him. Max wasn't willing to waste the money on fighting them, not with his sister pregnant. She married a good enough man, but their parents weren't alive anymore, she was the only family he had. So he did what he could to help out, saving money and doing favours for her.

"There are good women out there Max, you'll find someone," she said.

"You're my sister, it's your job to say that, anyway I've got to take off, see you later," Max said.

They hugged and parted. Max walked down the streets, keeping his hood up. His phone rang and he took it from his pocket. The number, another job for some easy money. His hands and eyes sparked with electricity as he began to hover off of the floor.

He watched her, as he had been lately. ESU was one of the best schools in the country, a place he never had a chance of getting into. But he had a chance with her, he knew it, they were meant to be together. Morris watched her walk out of her class, the drama scholarship, she was always great in the school plays. Beautiful, smart, talented, Mary Jane Watson would go far in life and he would be right there with her. She was chatting with that purple haired bitch and her best friend. They were more obstacles than the two boys she was rooming with, the rich kid and the loser.

'Then again, I'm not much different,' Morris conceded.

The difference was, his life had changed. A miracle had happened, and he was no longer that loser expelled from Mary's old school. He cursed, feeling his phone ring, a job he couldn't refuse. Still it was all for her, and Morris Bench suspected it wouldn't be any trouble. The phone and his clothes shifted as he looked at the sewage drain. His parents once told him the gutter was where he belonged, now it was just another form of transportation. Turning into water, he disappeared before Mary Jane could catch sight of her stalker.

He looked over the equipment from Oscorp. Flawlessly designed as he expected it to be. Norman was a great engineer, and the equipment had some of his upgrades on it too. When the call came through, he was already preparing for another job. All he had to do was finish preparing his equipment. The Ostech Mark 1-Weapon Platform, otherwise known as the Glider. Personalised of course with bat like wings, and a demonic face at the front. A blue suit built from a muscle enhancing Nano-weave, adapted from a technology one Reed Richards patented. Body armour painted orange, boots with magnetic soles to aid in the glider flight. Orange gloves with Nano-tech laser weapons built into the finger tips, tranquiliser, explosive, and flash settings. Grabbing his bag, he began to fill it with Os-Tech grenades, customised to look like pumpkins. Explosive grenades, gas, flash, chaff and smoke settings. Picking up a sword like hilt he ignited the flaming blade on it, before deactivating it and putting it on his belt.

Finally he put on the ragged orange cloak, and the mask, his face. The tight material seemed to fuse to his face, giving it the appearance of yellow skin, even making it seem as if his eyes had changed to red slits. His ears too seemed pointed because of the mask. He placed over his mouth a grey mask, a type of modulator and his ultimate weapon. Pulling the hood over his face, he stepped onto the glider, using controls in his gloves and the foot plugs to control it. The engine roared, the wings spreading as it began to hover off of the ground. The roof of the warehouse slid open and he flew, his voice echoing out of the modulator as he cackled, a dreadful sound that filled the night sky.

It was time for the Hobgoblin to raid the realm of men.

The realm truly was an interesting place now. Mortal technology had advanced so far beyond horse drawn carriages.

"Take us to my palace," Amora commanded her driver.

"I believe they call it a 'Condo' my dear," Loki said, spinning his cane.

They sat in what the mortals called a Limo. There was a bottle of what they called champagne, stored in a device that kept things cool. Loki marvelled at the inventions, talking boxes that sent messages from far away.

"Why does this man speak without my permission?" Amora demanded, pointing at the TV.

"Amora my dear, do actually look at the memories of the person whose soul you destroyed. It is the respectful thing to do after all, we've cut their lives so short, and their lives can actually be quite interesting if you take the time to learn them," Loki explained.

He looked at Amora, not with his usual charm, but a ferocity. It was not a request, but an order. Amora closed her eyes, accessing the memory of her body. A life of lavish luxury, the kind she adored, a father who gave her everything. But then, the college years, studying for what the mortals called business. This woman made her own way, in order to help others. Amora gagged as soon as she saw the 'moral' path this woman took.

"Disgusting, feeding the rabble of distant lands," she said.

"There's something actually quite admirable in a rich girl choosing to use her fortune to help others, instead of spending it on shoes or such," Loki said as he poured a glass of champagne. "My body was as selfish a man as I am, he made his fortune from what they call pharmaceuticals. But these cures and treatments were available only to the highest bidder. He stuck his hands into many sources of income, weapons, a little something called genetics."

"What do you babble about Loki?" Amora asked.

"Something that's going to make our confrontation with dear brother much easier, once we've made our stop at your 'palace' we'll make a stop at mine," Loki grinned.

The penthouse apartment of Alice Eve offered a fine view of the city. Loki poured himself wine, something called Pinot Grigio from Eve's fridge. Amora herself explored the woman's house, knocking aside potted plants and pictures of Alice and her family. She looked at the wedding picture of Alice and her husband for a moment, running her hand over the handsome blonde haired man's face. Then she tossed the photo aside and walked to Alice's wardrobe.

"An impressive selection, but nowhere near good enough," she huffed.

Her hands glowed green as the fabrics began to fly out of the wardrobe, hovering around her. The dress she wore flew off of her body, and other pieces of fabric began to wrap around her. Loki tilted the contents of his glass down his throat and smirked when he heard the door open.

"Alice, are you in there?"

There he was, the husband. Loki rotated his cane, looking through the gem as the young man entered the room. His eyes widened when he saw the intruder, but nearly bugled as Amora emerged from the dressing room. She was garbed in a pair of dark green stockings and boots, with green circles over them. A gold belt was wrapped around her waist, a green corset around her chest. Around her face was a green cloth crown, and green arm bands covered her hands, starting from her elbows and finishing at her waist.

"Alice?" the young man blinked in confusion.

"Not at all sir, in fact, you won't be her husband for much longer," Loki flicked the gem, and a scream emanated from it.

The young man's own death scream followed, his eyes turning as white as his skin. But then, one side of his face became blue, and the other black. His hair turned white and grew longer, down to his waist. His ears stretched and he became thinner. Amora shook her head in disgust as the transformed young man crawled across the ground, letting out a final yell before his voice changed.

"LOKI!" the new being yelled.

"Good to see you again, Malekith!" Loki grinned.

"The Accursed, you should have let me take the handsome one," she said.

"Thank goodness he didn't Amora, we all know your taste for transmutation," Malekith said, stretching his limbs as he walked towards where Loki sat.

He took the bottle of wine and began to drink from it.

"The wine is weaker, but sweeter in this realm, where are we?"

"Midgard," Loki chuckled at Malekith's shocked response. "Search your host's memories Malekith, you're a philanthropist now."

Malekith closed his eyes, concentrating until the memories came to him.

"The Midgardians have come far it seems, to be the ones to determine charity and not Odin...wait, Ragnarok, it happened didn't it?" Malekith asked.

"A Ragnarok of a sorts, things have changed, your empire is gone Malekith. The souls of over a thousand residents of all the eight realms are now in my care," Loki raised the cane and twirled it around.

"And what is your plan now Loki, for you must surely have one," Amora said.

"This world has a new pantheon, heroes whom have sworn to protect it. It is time we show them whom the gods truly are," Loki said.

"So what next?" Malekith demanded.

"Next, we find some weapons, and some soldiers!"

VA

"A few days ago I was on a trip with my boys. They kept saying they wanted to be like me, go off and fight bad guys, Billy the youngest of them said he'd love to kill himself some Mussies. He's twelve, I grabbed him by the neck and yelled at him...DON'T YOU DARE CALL THEM THAT!"

Steve was taken aback by the story. But there was no judgement in the circle. Some of the men, as difficult as the notion was where bigger than him. There were more women in the group than he expected. Sam was part of the Veteran's association, a group that looked after old soldiers. They all had scars, and even those whom weren't on wheelchairs or using robotic arms had the obvious of scars. A lot could be told about the eyes, and all these young men and women had defeat in their eyes.

"I never hit my kids, never yelled at them before the war, I regretted it," the young man said.

He sat down and the man next to him rubbed his shoulder with encouragement. Again, no judgement in the circle.

"Sometimes we bring something back with us, what you brought back was an understanding that no matter the religion, there's good and bad and we need to see the people before we see their god. You didn't go about it the right way, but teaching your kid's that lesson is a good thing in itself," Sam explained.

The circle broke apart for a little bit, the soldiers speaking amongst themselves, eating the spread at the picnic table. As Steve ate a sandwich with tuna in, he was reminded of another aspect of the change. Food was certainly a lot better, but it had an artificial taste to it, as if it had been treated with something.

"You're free to share whenever you want Steve," Sam said, walking over and offering him a drink.

"Thank you Sam, not just for this but the room and the clothes too," Steve said.

"We help each other in this neighbourhood, and we help our brothers too," Sam raised his voice so that the others could hear him.

"Brother's no matter the uniform!" they said in unison.

Army, navy and Air force. There was even an MP who was welcomed, and in Steve's influence no one in the service like the military police. The environment was safe, despite so much pain being contained within it.

"Sam, if you don't mind me asking what was your trauma?" Steve asked.

"Not being able to save anyone, surviving alone and not being able to do a thing. In some ways that's worse, when you couldn't do anything you can at least say you weren't able to do a thing, but when someone dies and you could have done something then that's worse," Sam explained.

"Yeah, it is," Steve said.

"I've got this Cap!"

"BUCKY!"

Steve rubbed his head, remembering not just his best friend and the missile, but the prison he left behind too.

"You look like a man who has more than just a trauma to share Steve," Sam said.

"What do you know about the World Disaster Response Agency?" Steve asked.

"They were most active during the Cataclysm ten years ago, that's when they really gained a foothold, branches in the military, in intelligence, even social media," Sam explained.

"Social what now?"

"You know, Instagram, twitter, heck they get celebrity endorsements all the time. When Spider-man first showed up they started trying to make their own super heroes. The Great lakes something...there was a Flat guy, some dinosaur girl, a Squirrel girl and some Immortal guy, but he couldn't really do much else," Sam rolled his eyes as he spoke.

"Who runs it?"

"The face at least is Margaret Carter," Sam said and Steve shook his head.

"It can't be, she wouldn't condone..." Steve looked at Sam for a moment.

Trust was a difficult thing to place, not just out of one's own safety. Steve knew if he let Sam in, he could find a great ally, and the kind of person who wanted to help. But he also knew that he would be placing Sam in great danger. The decision however wasn't his alone.

"Steve, whatever it is, I'm here to help, it's what I do," Sam touched Steve's shoulder and Steve saw the utter confidence in his eyes.

The confidence and certainty of a soldier, like the many soldiers Steve had served with.

Coulson always thought that Ward had a great career ahead of him. A good future, he had the record of a good agent. But that life, alongside Stewart's life had been literally cut apart. Phil had to get out of the room as forensics did their sweep, taking photos of both bodies and their exact positions. He sat on a bench outside the safe house, within the range of the guards. The agents put in charge of the investigation came over. Antoine Tripllet (every one called him Trip) a young agent like Grant was. His partner Isabelle Hartley was Coulson's generation, tough and a woman who always followed her gut.

"You all right Coulson?" Trip asked.

"I'll be fine, once we found out what's going on, he must have been shadowing us," Phil muttered.

"They haven't processed security recordings yet, but can you tell us what happened before you went out?" Isabelle asked.

"Grant and I had been assigned to guard and brief Gary Stewarts, we were waiting for orders from the top regarding what would happen to the prisoner. Then we heard the incident out the front, we stayed where we were and when the door was thrown open I drew my pistol. He couldn't have been any older than eighteen, but his speed, he brought me to the ground. But before Ward could engage him in hand to hand, the intruder...slashed his throat, that's the last thing I remember before I fell unconscious," Coulson explained.

"There was nothing you could have done Phil," Isabelle said.

"He only killed Stewarts and Ward," Coulson muttered.

"Sorry?"

"The guards actually fired at him, but he just knocked them out. I had a gun, I was the bigger threat but he killed Ward," Coulson stated, thinking back to that moment, thinking of the reasons.

"That's right, if he was silencing Gary for something then killing him makes sense, but letting all our agents except one live doesn't make sense," Isabelle said.

"Could killing Ward have been a personal decision the guy made?" Trip asked.

"Maybe, what could the reason be though?"

Reason, people were always looking for one. Why did people wear masks? Sven put together his makeshift costume of a grey hoodie , gloves and boots to conceal his identity. The hood had red flames and ears on them, advertising some anime that Sven hadn't had the time to see. He let the armour cover part of his mouth and hands, and let the power flow through him. Like cracks red markings appeared over his skin, even shining through his clothes. Then the crackles of blue lightning made his body shine slightly. Taking a running jump off of the rooftop, he launched himself across the gap between the building and his target. Though Spector had escaped the asylum, records were taken to the local government building. Windows were sealed, front doors were locked, back doors guarded by men who were still alert even on break. The rooftop though, it had an electronic lock, one he could fuse and interact with.

He made his way through the building, keeping to corners and remaining alert for the guards. The recent disaster left the building understaffed, ordinarily he wouldn't have been so successful in getting in. Cameras worked to a specific range, a range he had studied. But even so, there was a risk of being seen, of missing the mark just a little bit and getting made by the guards. He still needed to take this risk though, to find answers that Spector hadn't given him before. Sven lifted his hood up as he got into the archive. The asylum still kept paper records, as a great many health organisations did. He focused on the names Spector went by, looking at the tabs on the files.

'Where are you Spector?' Sven mused.

A file, interview notes, he needed something. Marc Spector was the objective, no one else, not any other patient. Not Jon Simm, not Kylie Jones, not Felicia Hardy. Hardy, it couldn't have been the company where the Molten man incident occurred. Curiosity took hold of Sven and he grabbed the Hardy file. Anastasia Hardy was her mother, she was the CEO of the Hardy Foundation. The file read her father's name to be Walter Hardy. Sven remembered his notebook, remembered the mark 'Walter=John Hardevsky'.

'A connection, just not the one I was looking for,' Sven thought.

He reached into his pocket, taking out the camera. Taking a few pictures, he put the file back where it was before. Sven made his way back to roof, thinking of the white haired girl and her mother.

'So many secrets, did Dad find a whole set of conspiracies, or was it just one? What's the WDRA's connection to all of this? So many questions to find the answers to,' Sven mused before he jumped off of the roof and into the night.

Father Madden had been a priest for thirty years. He attended to the needs of his flock in the city. Part of that involved the absolution of sins. Stepping into the cubicle, he looked at the part obscured features of the young man opposite him. Not a regular sinner, or a member of his flock. Blonde haired and wearing sunglasses, the young man was leaning forward, rubbing his knuckles. Madden predicted a violent man in this one.

"Bless me father for I have sinned, it has been twenty years since my last confession," the young man said, puzzling Madden.

He couldn't have been any older than twenty, unless he was one of those poor mutants. There had been whispers of mutated people whom didn't age properly.

"I have broken vows of chastity, sacred vows I made to the lord and to the church. They were not broken out of love, but out of a lust for women," the young man removed his sunglasses and Madden blinked in confusion.

His eyes were glowing red.

"Before that however, I am guilty of abuse of power, of manipulation, of child molestation, five boys. Four paid off by the church, my hands kept clean but the fifth, he committed suicide, afterwards I had the gall to perform a sermon about the sin that is suicide," the young man explained.

Madden froze in horror, this man was not describing the sins he himself had committed. No, he was describing his sins.

"What do you want? If I wronged you please..."

"You don't even remember their faces or names do you? I'm not one of those kids, and you've got it wrong father, this isn't about money!"

The young man's fist went through the wall, and a blade burst out of father Madden's back. He pulled the blade out and walked out of confession, the priest's blood pooling onto the floor next to him. The armour slid off of his hand as he dipped his hands into the holy water. He'd find another church for confession later.

Then he would hunt down the girl in the flower dress.

Next Chapter 2: Mysteries and bounties

Hope everyone enjoyed the start to the new Arc.

Some inspiration I took for characters:

Vulture: Taking a mix of his look from the comics with the look from the MCU. Borrowing from the Vulture's deep history from the comics I wanted to make a man well past his prime, but still very much on the frontlines for the sake of his family.

Shocker: Herman Schultz's personality in this is career criminal, think Robert DeNiro's characters from Heat and Goodfellas, a loyal friend but ruthless when his crew breaks his code.

Electro: His Oscorp background is from Amazing Spider-man 2, but definitely not borrowing from other aspects of that film. A nice guy who got a bad deal, the burns are inspired by Spider-man PS4, though they form more of the shape of Electro's mask pattern.

Hydro-man: Morris is the opposite personality as well as opposite element of Max. He was a creep before he got his powers. A stalker, his history and obsession with Mary Jane is based upon Hydro man's appearances in Spider-man the Animated Series of the 90s (thank you for introducing me to comics :)

Hobgoblin: Taking another page from Spider-man TAS and revealing the Hobgoblin before the Green Goblin. Much like TAS as well, there is an element of mystery behind the identity of this Hobgoblin. His tech is a fusion of old school and Big time era Hobgoblins.

The Sixth member of this iteration of the Sinister six will be revealed in the future.

For the creation of Wilson Fisk I borrowed from different elements of the comics and the MCU. When he speaks I imagine Vincent D'Onofrio.