Within the void of indefinite darkness, only the gurgling of air bubbles echoed out across the black plain. In time, followed a series of words from deep subconscious thought.
Lord…
Preemptive…
Horizon…
Though random they seemed, each carried hidden meaning.
Future…
Beaming…
Order…
Triggered forth from immense sudden trauma. This mental sequence ignited something within the unsuspecting host. It sparked a will…
Nation…
All…
One…
It sparked a purpose…
Holy…
Conquest…
Prosperity…
It sparked a rage.
Doom!
Lucia's seemingly comatose body, torn and flayed anew, floated within the human test tube. All the roaming lab workers were far too preoccupied to notice the slightest twitch that graced her mechanical form. Then came the unthinkable to all the chattering scientists going over their formulas and data tables… the glass began to crack.
"This city's tearing me apart, man."
Matthew Murdock leisured his way down the familiar streets of Hell's Kitchen as he overheard the same repetitive complaints.
"Shit's a joke. Been months now, and no stimulus checks, no nothing. They don't care about all us that got saved."
Following the aroma of tulips and lavender, he entered a tiny corner store to escape the bickering frats. The clerk recognized his only blind regular.
"Murdock! It's not Sunday yet."
"No it is not, Khamal. But I figured I'd surprise her today."
"The usual then?"
He placed the money on the counter. "Don't forget, unscented."
The humble shopkeeper handed him a small bouquet of flowers, arranged to his liking, and an unscented wax candle.
"Keep the change."
"Always a pleasure, Mister Murdock. She's lucky to have you."
Matthew politely smiled it off, more so to be done with the interaction. "I'm lucky to have her back." He then heard some panicked rummaging transpire in the back corner. Seemed the man could not travel five blocks without this city managing to get on his nerves. The vigilante incognito would rather not deal with this delinquency. "That kid just slipped a bottle into his jacket." He nonchalantly exited the shop after providing the tip.
"HEY! Yes, you! Put that back!"
Further into his final errand, Murdock found himself before the steps of the old, sacred ground, Clinton church. A pair of young nuns greeted him upon his arrival. The temple was welcoming with its candlelit warmth and smell of oak wood. Though passing the empty ornate pews, he faltered on his climb to the altar. Faltered for he could not help but dwell on the tragedy that occurred at this very spot years ago. To this day, he could still hear his voice.
Forgive us…
Awaiting atop, a mother in the middle of setting up for the evening ceremony noticed her troubled son. "Well good afternoon, Matthew."
He turned to her direction, clearing his throat to proceed, "Sister Margaret," and joined her before the bible stand. The draped statue of a crucified Christ watched over them both.
"So formal."
"Still working my way up to mom." Matthew responded lightly, scrunching his face into a cheeky smirk.
She smiled in kind as she accepted his lovely presents. "And what's the occasion for this spontaneous visit?"
"I can leave if you'd like?" He suggested facetiously. "Walk out on you for the foreseeable future."
"You know you're always welcome here." Maggie was immune to his petty jokes, actually finding them to be a healthy form of acceptance for him. "It's just a break from your usual routine." She went ahead and replaced a nearby candle that was burning low with the newly gifted one. "Today's definitely not Ash Wednesday, not that it would matter, because I never see you in the pews. No, instead you take time out of your Sundays to drop off these much appreciated gifts, but-"
"But never stick around for the sermon. Yeah, I know."
"Why is that?" She asked delicately while neatly adding the bouquet to the front display. "If you're open and willing."
"I guess it has to do with…" He paced around the religious centerpiece in contemplation, "I've just felt…" expressing himself the best he could. "You see, I've been having trouble understanding something. Something I thought I had come to terms with, but in light of recent events, I'm… once again filled with doubt."
She prayed that he would not detect her rising brows and sly smile of amusement. "You have these existential crises of faith often?" Though her tone of voice gave her away, for they seemed to be quite a reoccurring habit with her boy.
"How can you not?" He remained serious about his dilemma.
"Ask what you need to ask, Matthew."
That he did as he broke down his walking stick. "When you, along with the other half of the planet… disappeared. Completely erased from God's green earth…" A question that had lurked his mind for months since her return. "What did you see?"
"The honest truth?" She answered straight-faced. "Nothing… I saw and felt nothing."
"At all?" Denial overcame him, for deep inside he had hoped for something more, for anything.
"Not even a dream."
Harsh, cold reality now poured in where his faith used to be. "Then how can you still even belie-"
"Because this was not God's doing, Matthew." Her iron strength of character extended to her unbreakable Catholicism. "There was no afterlife for us, because we were not dead. It was not our time. This was but the act of a madman. An alien to our way of life. The natural order. You need to see that." She told him.
As quickly as it was challenged, his faith was now being replenished.
"What that monster did to us… that power… do you really think the Lord meant for any mortal creature to possess it all? And with it, to do so abruptly what he did?"
"Igniting the rapture." He brooded.
"Is that what he did?" She hit back rhetorically. What happened to her, Maggie knew with absolute certainty was no act of final judgement. "Is that why our guardian angels moved heaven and earth and beyond to rectify his atrocity? Bringing us all back safely."
"That's what you think they are?" Her cynical child could not help but chuckle at the absurdity.
"Scoff all you want. You're one of them too. A diligent warrior of God. Only you mask yourself as the Devil to scare villainy away." She then teased him as any mother would. "If anything, you're the most dramatic of the bunch."
Humbled silence was the only way he was able to take in her special praise.
"Just as evil embodies many forms, so too does good." She ended profoundly.
Spoken as if the late Father Lantom was still with him. After that much needed guidance, Matthew was back on the right path.
Sister Maggie approached her son with some precaution, unsure if he would accept her physical affection. Little did she realize, he more than welcomed it; the mother's touch he was deprived of for all his youth. She decided to merely place her hand up his arm, gently gripping his shoulder, and asked with a smile. "Still filled with doubt?"
"No more than any other lost soul." He responded with a hint of gaiety.
"Just as melodramatic as your father." She said shaking her head right before softly patting the side of his neck. The elder nun returned to finalizing the surface of the countertop. "Least this explains the source of your newfound aggression during your dutiful nights."
"Have you been talking to Foggy?"
"No but if he's noticed the same behavior, it says a lot."
"Oh great. Here it comes." He retreated steps back to the rows of candles, enjoying the warm sanctuary from the dozens of fiery beads.
"No, no, this isn't a mother's lecture or even a Nun's catholic ass beating. If anything, this is encouragement." Being done with the preparations, she swayed around to look at Matthew, leaning against the marble altar.
"Really?" He asked, grazing his palm over the flames.
"...I'm in need of your God-given talents." Margaret was hesitant to ask such a favor, but she had no one else to confide in. "A young woman has gone missing. She grew up at the orphanage just as you did. Lucia… Lucia Von Bardas."
"Von Bardas?" Murdock ceased and provided all his focused attention. "That sounds… where's she from, Sokovia?"
"Worse. A war-torn country that most still have never heard of… or even care to. Lucia came over when she was only a little girl and somehow she did so alone. No friends, family, papers. Just," The concerned Sister shrugged with no other explanation, "found herself on the yards of Liberty Island, unsure how."
"Odd."
"Very. No recollection. Only the magnificent statue looking over her. Thought it was a miracle."
"And how did Lucia end up in the care of Saint Agnes?"
"Through me. I'm the one that found her running from a baker. She had stolen apple turnovers."
They both shared an innocent moment of mirth over the mundane detail.
"In that moment, when I was covering for the loss," His mother's raspy voice now surrendered low with sincerity, "watching as she curled up in her back alley box… this feeling just washed over me. It wasn't of selflessness or religious duty. It was guilt."
"You felt… guilty?"
It was rare for Murdock to witness such vulnerability from her. Much like himself, she was stubborn to the bone and would rather internalize her suffering and emotions before showing anyone that weakness. Though not weakness of character, but rather to their rough, stoically independent exterior. For if that armor were to ever be fully cracked by their closest, they both knew that would be the worst kind of pain. Matthew truly was his mother's son.
"I did. Because at that moment I couldn't help but think… this poor, lost child… alone and hungry in the world… could have very well been my son."
Twice now she had left him at a loss for words. Further proof of a sentimental fact that he had inferred: Margaret Grace was undoubtedly sorry for his rough, motherless upbringing. Things may have worked out for the best, with all the good the Devil of Hell's Kitchen had done and their eventual reunion, but that did not undo the deep regret that was and would continue to be a part of her. Even back then, the secret wounded her.
"Help me find her, Matthew. It's not like her to drop contact. Even when she returned from the Tragedy, homeless and unemployed, she still wrote in every week. Promptly. I know you already have your hands full, but-"
"Don't worry, Maggie. I-I'll find her. Just need to know where to start."
Her worried heart rejoiced with conceivable hope. "The Department of Labor offices on Varick and Watts. In her last letter, she mentioned that was where she was visiting for aid and workshops. If she was sent anywhere else, they'd know. I've tried contacting them, but they refuse to give me anything. Perhaps they'll be more inclined to answer to a lawyer." Sister Maggie smirked proudly.
"I'll look into it." He began unfolding his walking stick. "In fact, it's quite a commute. I should get going now before they close." Down the altar steps he went.
"And Matthew!"
"Yeah?" Her son turned halfway down the nave.
"Thank you."
No heightened senses were needed to pick up on the wholehearted gratitude.
"Sure thing… mom."
His final smile of love and forgiveness was everything to her. If only it was as easy for him to forgive his city.
Matthew Murdock departed from the church to embark on this new search. Already he suspected Lucia to be another missing victim of whatever the Maggia were up to. Unfortunate that the fresh lead he was eager for ended up coming from a familiar source. Though the personal connection would perhaps be enough to bring forth what Nelson was pressing him about.
…Throughout all the violence, least when it really came down to it, it was always about saving people. But when's the last time you actually did that?
Hopefully it would not be too late, but never could the blind vigilante have foretold what unprecedented new threat he would encounter with Lucia Von Bardas at the dead center of it all.
"I can't believe that guy!"
Elsewhere, on the other side of the East River, Peter Parker was in the middle of a heated phone call with his best friend, Ned Leeds.
"Came right to your place?" His trusted mate was thoroughly, and quite passionately, brought up to speed on the incident that befell Parker earlier this afternoon along with its immediate repercussions.
"Straight through the lodge, Ned! Tracked me down and took out Happy's security like they were nothing!"
"Badaaass." He found it incredibly impressive that a lone man would march into an Avenger's hidden stronghold just to deliver a warning, and all without a suit; truly fearless.
"No! Not badass. That was a-a," Though he tried, the boy failed to hold back the profanity, "a dick move! What if we had gotten into another fight? May could have gotten hurt! She's already freaking out as they move us."
"Why didn't you just web him up?" Leeds remained neutral and asked pragmatically, even with Peter maintaining an elevated voice for a good eighty percent of this conversation.
"He had my fluid." He admitted shamefully.
"Your what?"
"The web fluid that I load into my cartri-UGH! Look, not important. Point is, I messed up way worse than I thought. A woman is dead because of me, Ned. Dead. I have to get to the bottom of this."
"But why though?" He expressed more concern for Peter's safety. "This sounds serious, like dark serious. Just let Daredevil handle it."
"What if he needs help?"
"Pretty sure he won't. Guy's been doing this a lot longer than you have."
"Okay, well, I still need to do this." He declared, being quite offended.
"Why?" Now Ned was getting frustrated as he prodded for sound reasoning. "He already threatened to report you. Your aunt doesn't want you out anymore. The police aren't taking any chances with Spider-Man. And people are literally dying. Why do you still want to involve yourself?"
"Because I can!" The young hero spazzed out emotionally.
"But Peter-" His dear friend still tried to rationalize with him.
"Dude," A deep breath was taken, "now that I know what's going on, I can't ignore it." Parker explained himself with a leveled head. "I tried letting someone else 'handle it' during Europe and look how that turned out. And when I've looked the other way in the past…" So returned the great burden of guilt. "Well, you were at the funeral."
That he was and Leeds remembered just how wounding the heavy loss was, for both Peter and his widowed aunt. Being his only friend at the time, he was the sole one to aid him through every stage of the grief. Only in hindsight did he also come to realize that that very tragedy was the initial motive behind Peter Parker donning the sweatsuit.
"I made a careless mistake, I know, but I'm still in a rare position to do some good. If I don't and more people get hurt, I-I feel like that's on me." He caught himself sounding quite like his belated mentor. "I can't put it any simpler than that."
"Okay, okay…" He empathized, understanding as clear as crystal. His Man in the Chair would provide assistance in any which way required. "So if this call isn't to talk you out of it, then what do you need from me?"
"I need you to cover for me. If May asks, say I'm at your place venting. If she pushes, put her on speaker. Karen will patch me through to your computer, so it sounds like I'm really there."
"Got it."
"And…" His voice fell with sentiment. "Tell MJ I'm sorry for being a lousy boyfriend."
"She doesn't think that." Ned tried to assure him. "She totally understands."
"Still." Rarely did it slip through the cracks, but always the guilt was stored within. "She doesn't deserve this."
"Um, wait…" A flaw in their plot occurred to him. "How exactly do you plan on sneaking out?"
The disobedient teenager chuckled red handedly. "About that…" For his friend was completely unaware that the Web Spinner was already zipping across the rooftops as the sun set before their borough.
"Peterrr?" Ned asked as if he were one of their teachers.
He hastily ended the conversation. "Gotta go! Remember to only use the burner. Thanks, bye!"
"What? No-Peter-wai-" The loyal at home companion was left speaking to the monotone beeps of the concluded call. He too hung up, staring dumbfounded and perplexed at all the angles of this cheap plastic excuse for a phone. "Who even told him about these bricks?"
Murdock took it upon himself to stop by his apartment to pick up his essential suitcase before the Metro ride. Essential, for carried within was his alternate uniform for when his night shift would soon begin. The reinforced suit was expertly designed to support his physical attacks with an extra spring of power without hindering his natural agility. It protected the wearer within its polymer composite armor guards and flexible kevlar-protium mesh. Best of all, it was detachable and lightweight enough to fit and be carried discreetly via suitcase.
Sorry, Melvin. But the old man really outdid himself.
The new tactical Daredevil suit allowed him to remain strong, durable, and fast. Perhaps he should have worn it to traverse his way to the department instead, for by the time he arrived, their doors were closed for the evening.
"Dammit."
He set the case down to rest his hand on his hips, thinking of what to do next. The wind chill kicked in, meaning it was already dark. Office workers were long gone as well, further proving how much later it was than he had realized. All he heard within the building was the spinning wheels of rickety cleaning carts and the sluggish janitors pushing them. Then something out of place appeared on his auditory radar.
"What in the?" Matthew's head twitched at the sound of metal clicking within the elevators.
He tucked away his walking stick and took his suitcase to rush over to the side alley, away from passing civilians. Now perched on the neighboring rooftop, he caught an unmistakable whiff of gunpowder encased in lead.
"Sub-machine guns. Nine millimeter."
The Devil found it strange to find heavily armed guards at an unemployment house, while simultaneously being glad he had brought his change of clothes.
"Hurry up, man. Before they see us."
The youngest of the pair patrolling the cubicles worried shakily.
"Relax. The night crew knows not to come up while we're here." The older gunman entered the room where all the background profiles were kept.
"The janitors know about this?"
"I'm sure not about this specifically, but they know to stay away and shut the hell up if they see anything. That's the unspoken power our Big Man has." He said as he flipped through the binders in the yanked open cabinets.
"Well shit, that's pretty co-"
"What was that?"
Oddly he did not respond, yet the mobster was too focused on his tedious task to even offer a glance.
"Hey kid, how about you come help me dig through these. Gotta pull the names of the delivery tonight, and the truck'll be here any minute."
Still nothing else was heard from his companion out in the hallway.
"Kid?" Voice raised impatiently. "You don't need to be on lookout the whole time. Ain't nobody else coming in."
"Sure about that?"
The gruff, older voice was definitely not his partner.
"The FU-"
Daredevil snatched him by the throat and slammed him onto the reception desk. The fully automatic gun dropped to the carpet in the midst of the surprise assault.
"I keep hearing word of this Big Man. I'd love to learn more about him."
"N-not a chance." He fought to breathe and to break free.
"Not really in the mood for rejection tonight."
One solid strike to the abdomen made him much more willing to comply.
"I don't know! Never met him. He's just some new fat cat the Maggia work for."
The lucky vigilante had unintentionally busted a Maggia operation. This night was already gleaming with more promise compared to the one before.
"You must know more of him."
"Not really, no."
A firm thumb was pressed deep into the gap above the enforcer's collar bone.
"I'm serious!" He screamed out in pain. "I'm just part of the delivery crew. Our orders don't come from him-not personally."
"Then who?"
"Colleagues, man! No one that would be important to you. We just get the texts of where to hit up next and which warehouse to deliver 'em to."
"So there's warehouses."
"Shit."
"And what is it that you deliver exactly?"
"Shipments."
It was unwise for the man to play coy with the Devil at his throat.
"Of what!?" He demanded as he flung him across the space.
"Nobodies!" The thug sat up and crawled backwards in a panic as the hunter of the night approached him from the shadows. "Bitches that won't be missed. Homeless! Unemployed! Hell, some of 'em were deadbeats before the Blip. Another team recruits them. They volunteer willingly. We deliver. That's all they need me to know."
Though in a frightened state, his heartbeat did not waver to deceit.
"And the volunteers all end up disappearing. No missing persons reports, because no one cares. Yet you still pull their files. Erase any physical trace that they were ever here."
"And 'IT'," He continued with air quotes, "comes in the next morning for a routine check."
"When really they're wiping the hard drives."
"Bingo."
The Devil of Hell's Kitchen had uncovered an intricate scheme of human trafficking, but the why was missing. The purpose behind it all. Whoever this Big Man was, he was outsourcing the Maggia for grunt work to keep clean of hands-on involvement. If he was among the mob's ranks, they would know more of him. Instead they were kept in the dark. But someone-some Maggia boss on the higher chain of command had to be dealing business with him directly. As for the use of the homeless, another way to avert suspicion. Especially now in the aftermath of everyone's return. A wide pandemic of street dwellers desperate for opportunity to normalcy swept the nation. A few to slip through the cracks of a distraught society, scrambling to rebuild itself, would easily go unnoticed. Hence why Murdock was following this mystery more attentively than the, already spread thin, NYPD. But what they were being used for remained the troublesome question. One which Daredevil fully intended to uncover the answer to, no matter where it led.
"You mentioned a truck arriving soon."
"What? Not to you." Terrifyingly confused, he wondered how the horned vigilante could have overhead. For how long could he have been closely stalking them?
"Where's it heading?"
"I-I can't. They'll chop my fingers."
"I'll get the process started."
"Wh-wha-AGH!" The mobster squealed under the violent pressure of his first two fingers being twisted in a manner the lord never intended. "Okay, no no, please. I'll tell you."
"No need."
Murdock heard the cargo truck reverse into the secluded loading dock down below. He knocked out the informative goon with a brutal knee to the forehead. Haste was crucial, for with the vehicle's arrival came a foul stench of unbathed bodies congregating around it. The shipment.
"Alright people, thank you all for coming on such short notice." A middle aged man in a collared shirt and puffy vest had exited the passenger's side to open the back. "We apologize for having you come out here, but you're each staying at separate hotels. It's out of the way. Hope you understand. One trip was just more practical."
The handful of volunteers huddled around him, eager to go. With his professional demeanor, the last suspicion they had was for him to be involved with the mob.
The driver remained in his seat, keeping the engine running. While the gatherer waited for the scouts to return from the labor building, he pulled out a clipboard from the rear to buy more time.
"Alright let's do a quick headcount-"
A purposefully loud thud made impact with the roof of the semitrailer, demanding its arrival be known. A burst of reactionary screams followed at the sight of a looming red-clad figure carrying twin batons. The Maggia member recognized the appearance all too well, cursing as he dropped the clipboard to reach for his concealed weapon. He was too slow. Daredevil front flipped off the 18 wheeler, crushing the man onto the concrete with his hefty boots for a smoothed landing.
"Leave." He ordered the poor group.
"B-but they promised us a better life." A fearful woman spoke up.
"And all they'll grant you is death."
"They paid for our food and hotels." Another frail man stepped forth.
"Yeah? In exchange for what?"
"Well… they didn't tell us ye-"
"Exactly. When a deal's too good to be true, it usually is." Cynical words of truth spoken from an experienced lawyer.
"But-"
"Go!" He now bashed the base of his club onto the trailer, scaring them off like rats.
"What the hell's going on back there?" The driver removed his earbuds to stick his head out the window, seeing the scurrying cargo. "Hey! Where are you going?" He faced forward again to retrieve the keys, before going after them.
But something from his peripheral view stopped him, and stopped him with a near heart attack. The stealthy ninja had made himself comfortable in the passenger's seat without ever even triggering a sound.
"Stay on schedule. Get to the drop off point where you were to deliver those people." The tri-blades of the tilt of his baton slashed out. At the press of a button that sharp edged top propelled forth, whizzing by the driver's nose, obliterating his side-view mirror before swiftly returning. "Or that will be your skull next."
His chauffeur gulped with terrible anxiety as he shifted the gears to carry on with the scheduled delivery.
Deathly alarms blared across the labs, shrouding the facility in a foreboding carmine. All floor-level personnel shoved into one another in the unexpected evacuation.
"Containment breach!" A panicked voice stressed over the speakers. "Test subject 017 is out! I repeat! Test subject 017 is-GAHK"
Silence washed over the fleeing crowd as they overheard the crunching of bone and oozing insides. After the muffled weeping of pain from the announcer ceased, a ragged breath arose. What followed was a demented voice, slow and hoarse as if her throat was filled with iron nails.
"Monsterssss,"
The evacuation initiated by the security sirens seemed like a leisure park stroll compared to the abrupt chaos that now sparked out across every wing of the building.
"I saw her! I saw her!" A young scientist dashed to the front of the rushing group. "Oh god. The research team. Sh-she-"
Bursting through the terrazzo flooring was Lucia, eyes flaring of emerald through the few remaining patches of her long, raven-hair. The majority of her nude, stitched together body, replaced with razor-like machinery. Her twisted, hunched forth stance conveyed nothing but anger and hatred.
"Please… w-we're sorry."
Their pleas only summoned her elongated claws, already drenched in the remains of past sorrowful abusers. At the shot of a screeching wail, she swiped at the defenseless crowd, painting the white walls in blood.
In an upper level of the facility, two men stood in a wide conference room. Captured through the office windows was the nearby river docks. The surface of its waters reflected the twinkling amber lights of New York City.
"You've had a breach? I go through the trouble of providing one of my few remaining fronts for your operation, and you suffer an internal breach? How could this happen?" The incarcerated Kingpin of Crime hid naught his immense displeasure at this unfortunate event. He communicated to them via live video call from the comfort of his luxurious prison cell.
"Minor setback, I assure you." The entrepreneur of Project Renaissance calmly explained to his associate displayed on the large mounted screen as if it were of no concern. "Perhaps it was her unknown genealogy. The very factor we took as a breakthrough, surviving the extremity of the experiment, but rejecting the biotech."
"So it was a failure?" He asked with a discontented sigh.
"Not entirely. Like I said, 017 survived. Something that has never been the case until now. With her genome as a jumping off point, we immediately began trials on one of the males. For him, we switched to something we're more experienced with here at this company. Some good old fashioned modified animal DNA." He finished with a dashing smirk.
"As opposed to the late doctor's unstable," Fisk made sure he was pronouncing the correct term. "Bio-organic-technology?"
"Precisely. Though he's still in the incubation period, so time will tell."
"You still plan on being able to conduct your observations if the girl levels the entire facility." He chastised.
"In the event that the worst does come to pass." His partner stood his ground with reserved composure. "That is what these blood samples are for." He lifted the protective briefcase to exhibit. "Men like us need to have contingencies."
"A man such as myself would have ensured the test subject was more securely sedated."
"Enough, Wilson." The case slammed onto the table for emphasis. "I understand your frustrations, but cut back on the passive aggressive temper. The situation will be resolved, and we will still relocate to one of our more secure laboratories to resume testing."
Fisk's intense silence was enough to strike immediate fear and regret into the worst of criminals. For daring to respond in such a tone. But such was not the case regarding the man that stood before him.
"Just remember the importance of Project Renaissance, Mister O-"
"I am well aware." He declared buttoning his fine blazer. "Our success here is as vital to me as it is to you, because you understand just as well as I do…" The tall businessman spoke with grave sentiment. "That family is everything."
"...I shall await your next update." That was all the Kingpin said before ending the conference call, cutting the feed to black.
"I ain't never heard someone stand up to Fisk like that." The beefy head of security beside him at last spoke.
"Yes. Well, I suppose that's why you all call me the Big Man." He stated, adjusting his striped tie while looking onto his reflection on the blank screen. "Ready my helicopter." The order was briskly given into his earpiece. "Be kind and accompany me to the pad, Mister Martello."
"Sure," The Maggia Crime Lord walked alongside him on their way out.
After collecting their coats from the racks, they stopped by the security room to check the multigrid footage. Lucky pockets of personnel were pouring out onto the parking lot and other exits.
"I'll send you an encrypted list of all my employees assigned to this location. Home addresses and all. Have the Maggia visit everyone who managed to escape. Deliver my most sincerest apologies for this atrocity, and… no whistleblowers." He ordered cold and decisively.
"Will do, Big Man. And the broad?" Martello asked as he watched her slaughtering rampage through the corridors.
"Containment was a no go. Now we must dispose of her like all the rest." He answered without a single shred of remorse let alone distress.
The two leaders of their respected factions progressed to the private elevator.
"Termination…? Gonna be tough now, seeing as she's a livin-"
"Weapon, Mister Martello. Yes, she's no more than a living weapon. No use to me now." He ensured everything needed was in his coat pockets. "Shouldn't be a problem for your men though, correct?"
"My boys will handle it." Joseph Martello promised his employer with his shark-like grin.
Down at the quarantined labs, his boys were already on the job.
"Don't let her outside!"
A squad opened fire. The lethal escapee covered herself with the more mechanical half of her form. The piercing NATO rounds kept her at bay, even began to force 017 to cower back.
"Someone get the grenades!"
"We have grenades!?"
"In the damn duffle, Don! Hurry it up!"
The adrenaline-driven henchman dropped to the bag behind their feet. Before he could retrieve the explosives, a glowing hue of pale green called his attention. It called everyone's attention.
The light emanated from the visible power core on the target's chest. The exposed tubes connected to it began to pulsate as well. It burned like steam onto her flesh, and she could feel it growing stronger. Lucia wailed out. The lit tubes trailed down her arm, still emanating through her stretched skin. She could feel it all. The agony. Something was shifting inside her; The living metal where her bones used to be.
"What the shit did they put in her!?" One goon lowered his gun in complete disgusted shock.
The rest made haste to reload in order to continue firing. Though it would be to no avail, for her middle claws retracted to make way for something else. The light pulsated stronger and stronger as if escalating within. Until at last, what looked to be a mini canon took shape, releasing all that pent up energy. The Maggia screamed away into the blinding flash of pale green.
What…
Lucia looked onto her hand as it transformed back into claws. The unbearable burning had settled.
What was that? What am I?
She laid her glinting eyes onto the blockade. All were completely gone, disintegrated into mere ash.
What on earth did they do to me!?
Poor Lucia struggled to find the balance for control over her new body. It seemed as though she carried two subconciences now. Her initial onslaught of anger was beginning to fade as she came across no other personnel. All she wanted now was to find her friends and escape this horrible place. But then there was the indescribable purpose. An id. It was as though her work here was not yet finished. The voices in her head further complicated her bearings.
Preemptive… Future… Order…
On her advancement, the automatic doors beside her swooshed open.
Nation… All…
The glimpse of the neon blue data room lured her in before she could even make the decision. Her arm reached out to the hard drive stations as if drawn to the intel they possessed. Lucia's claws retracted once again with a wince of pain. This time metallic wires slithered out, plugging into the ports. Suddenly, she twitched at the slight electrical surge. Rows of binary code scrolled down her emerald eyes.
Her technical engineering background, from her startup days, allowed her the ability to decipher some of the overwhelming amount of information. Most of it was terabytes of scientific equations backed by mathematical algorithms; A series of wild, in depth theories across all branches of science and robotics, ranging from herpetology to immunology to artificial intelligence. All revolutionary and fascinating, yet was white noise to Lucia. It was all downloading at such high-speed that she only managed to pluck fragments; fragments of a somewhat comprehensible timeline.
"Human and health development… Project Rebirth v2.0… military funded research… cybernetic trials… problematic… Octavius separation… alternate augmentations… animal splicing… 2016 legal settlement… government shutdown due to global 2018 incident… 2023 reattempt, off record… Project Renaissance… commencement of human trials."
The wires unplugged from the computer jacks with an electrical jolt, and seeped back into her flesh. Lucia's eyes widened with whatever humanity still remained at the one piece of personally important intel. She had learned the layout of the entire, thirteen level facility. Thus, she had just discovered where they were keeping her friends.
Nearby, she ripped open a locked security door with incredible strength. What awaited her on the other side, she never could have imagined.
Whelan? She read the label to herself in disbelief.
Test subject 017 was not the only monster they had created that night. Caged within a glass box, was a man of umber-fur, stripped of his clothing. Only the shreds of his olive slacks remained. Curled up at the far corner, he faced away, covering his ears due to the tireless alarm. Lucia used her claws to cut through the reinforced barrier.
My friend… She entered, reaching her hand out carefully. What did they do to you?
The traumatized creature that was once Edward Whelan slashed at her with a rabid growl. Flinching aback, she caught a clear reflection of herself off his rodent black eyes. No wonder why he was so afraid.
Denying her the time to react, he pounced around her, fleeing the cage and scratching his way into the air vents above. Just as quickly as she had found him, he was lost once again.
"Duchess?"
An old, familiar voice called to her from the other side of the holding cells.
Harold?
Though her movements were intimidatingly slow, internally she rejoiced over the sight of her dearest friend throughout this entire ordeal.
The elderly man could not help but step back as her horrifying new form approached his holding chamber. She witnessed his fear with stoic lament. It was understandable. She freed him all the same.
He took a long look at her. Lucia stood taller now. Tears of grief took shape over his freckled cheeks. Though trembling, his hand worked up the courage to gently set onto the human half of her face. Wrinkled skin was stretched thin and bloodied yet still very much Lucia.
"Least they kept your good side." He uttered wholesomely.
His tortured friend blissfully closed her eyes as she leaned her face into his comforting palm.
"I'm so sorry, Lucia." Harold cried as he admitted apologetically. "We should've listened to you."
When the victim's eyes reopened, a single tear grazed down her human side and onto his tender hand.
Their reunion was then interrupted with a sudden explosion, caving in the floor beneath them. They plummeted to the generator basement below.
"Down here!"
It was more Maggia. They were not trying to escape like all the other staff. They were after Lucia.
Why? One of the few emotions she was able to cling onto was that of unbridled hate. Turning me into this… Is this not what you people wanted!?
Her new cybernetic form began to assert control once more, preparing countermeasures.
Oh no…
The burning sensation had returned.
"The boss wants her gone!"
The dust settled enough for her to see them directly on the floor above.
"Now! While she's down!"
Firepower rained down upon the poor friends. Lucia grimaced as she shielded Harold from the bullets. The scorching sensation was more intense than before. Which she hypothesized, with absolute certainty, could only mean a far greater release was nigh.
"Harold."
He flinched at the vile voice. Though time was short, so she shoved him behind cover and pointed to the back exit. She knew it would lead him straight to the parking garage outside.
"GO!" The gruesomely distorted woman shrieked out.
Her dear friend ran away in terror as she absorbed all the bullets. She could hear the reactor in her chest whirring as it overheated. The next sound was that of a ticking beep as it descended toward her. A grenade.
The explosion blew her into one of the live generators. Lashes of electricity whipped around Lucia as she screeched with agony. Thankfully Harold made it out, for this time the metal casing of her ribcage shifted open to join the transformed canons on both her arms. The following eruption of her pale green energy fused with the power core of the facility, causing a destructive chainreaction that blasted straight through to the very rooftop.
High in the night sky, the Big Man and the Maggia Don rode in the helicopter when they were suddenly struck with major turbulence.
"WHAT THE-"
They looked over to bear witness as the helipad they had just departed from ruptured open in an explosive display of blinding light. A light that would surely draw the attention of the entire city.
The pilot regained control and continued leaving the devastation of failure behind them.
"Well, if that don't kill her, I don't know what will." Martello sat back to enjoy a cigarette.
His boss snatched it from his clunky hands and flicked it out the side. "Don't smoke that cancer in my chopper." He then groaned irritably at the fiery wake. "PR's going to be a nightmare."
"Don't forget, Peter." Karen reminded the Web Slinger as he made his way through the low buildings of Queens.
"Right, yeah. Assertive, not hostile. I'll swing in like, 'Hey, what's up, Daredevil. I'm Spider-Man. I'm an Avenger. You can't talk to me like that.' And then convince him that two super heads are better than one."
"I'll… be present to assist you." She said, knowing he would surely be in need of it.
The acrobatic Spider landed gracefully onto the moving J train in transit to lower Manhattan.
"Thanks, Karen." He said genuinely as he hitched the ride to conserve webbing. "Any sign of him yet?"
"Searching… nothing on police channels, nor social media. I recommend we venture into his usual area of operation, starting with Devil's Shelf."
"Sounds like a plan."
The plan was about to change as an enormous flash of pale green light encompassed the sky beside him.
"What the hell is that!?" The boy flinched at the sound of the not so distant boom.
"An explosion! Five point three miles out. North East. Energy signatures are off the charts."
"That's right by the docks."
Determined by the size, he worried people could have gotten hurt or worse. The young hero spun onto the roof of the incoming parallel train, heading back into his home borough.
"Sorry, Satan. You'll just have to wait."
"Holy Shit…" The driver uttered in shock as he turned the corner, witnessing the crumbling establishment.
Murdock felt it as well. The sizzling heat. The trapped screams. The entire building seemed to be caving in on itself. The result of something shooting clean through the center of all the levels. He had wondered what the sudden eruption was that he heard two blocks ago. A gas leak? Generator malfunction? Something worse?
"What were they doing here?"
"I don't know, man! We just bring in the bums. I don't know what they do with 'em! Oh god." He succumbed to a state of panic. "My cousin. Did my cousin make it out!?"
As his hands struggled with the door, the Devil denied his exit by knocking him unconscious. Leaving the vehicle, he approached the burning base from the front lot. A few people were still rushing out. All were so scared for their lives that his presence went unnoticed in the bedlam. Until he clutched a hold of a passing woman by the arm.
"What happened here?"
She screamed with fear. "Who are you-"
"Answer the question." He demanded, needing to know what he was about to march into.
"I-I can't. This wasn't supposed to happen. We-we were never supposed to be doing this."
"Doing what? What were you doing with the volunteers? Was there a girl? Early twenties. Lucia. Lucia Von Bardas."
"Oh god!" She screamed again, desperately trying to pull away from his grasp.
The name alone spiked her heart rate. She knew Lucia. She knew what happened to her.
"She was already one of you. I'm so sorry. Please, I-"
"Hey, horny!"
Matthew was too preoccupied with the collapsing building and the raging fire and the scrummaging footsteps and the heavy breathing and the overall havoc that he failed to detect the nuisance soaring above.
"What are you standing around for? Burning building! Hello? We gotta jump in!"
The frightened woman used the moment of distraction to break free.
Dammit! Again with this idiot kid. "Wait!"
But she had already climbed into her colleague's ride. Rubber burnt against the pavement as they fled the scene, as did everyone else.
With no other choice, Daredevil rushed towards the decaying structure. He hoped to still find Lucia, but instead what appeared on his radar was something beyond haunting. Something wailing like nothing he had ever heard before. Something that could not possibly be human.
Already inside, Spider-Man lifted a fallen pillar to reveal two coughing workers in torn lab coats.
"Hey, guys. I'm gonna need you to head over to that window and fast."
They did so carefully as wild flames roared at them.
"Now to set it back in place, or else the ceiling will fall on me." He succeeded in his delicate task, applying a layer of webbing for reinforcement.
"Do me a favor. If they ask you what happened on the news, tell them your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man saved you. Oh and fold your arms."
"What?" One coughed in confusion.
Parker stuck two miniature gadgets onto their backs before tossing them out the open window. They inflated into large gunks of web that safely cushioned their fall.
"Well done." Karen congratulated. "Plotting the safest course to reach the remaining life signals."
"Let's get them all out." Peter said with unwavering determination.
His advanced mask filtered out all the suffocating, hazardous smoke, allowing him to maneuver through the fire and rubble with swift precision.
"Wait."
"What is it?" He landed on the railing of a broken down stairwell surrounded by fire.
"I'm picking up a new heat signature."
The new marker blinked onto the scanned three dimensional layout of the environment on his heads-up display.
"Below us?"
"This is peculiar. The power source seems to be growing."
"Power source?" He seeked immediate clarification. "Is it a person or is it a thing?"
Despite buzzing the moment he dived in, his sixth sense now yelled at him to move.
"Look out!" His A.I. also provided warning.
A horrible shriek echoed as a blast of light completely eradicated the surface Peter was positioned on. He collapsed through the burning floorboard, but adhesively grabbed hold of the ceilingless wall to steady himself.
"That looked like the same explosion we saw."
"Same energy source as well."
"Holy…"
That same awful voice now spoke forebodingly. It was dangerously close.
"Okay… what was that?" The unknown began to spook the boy.
The strange signature on his mini map dashed all around his position. It was superhumanly fast. With mere plain sight, all he could make out was a dark silhouette vanish into the blazing foliage of the inferno and dense smoke. The Arachnid was being hunted. His natural defense called forth his attention once more.
"Behind you!"
The wall he was planted on burst into various chunks, bringing the young Spider face to face with his mysterious foe.
"Conquest!" So screamed the nightmarish visage of scorched flesh, receded gums, and blood stained metal before a pair of lifeless eyes.
Out in the lot, Daredevil heard the shouting boy fall from the fourth story, landing harshly right beside him.
"I told you to stay away."
"Really, dude?" Peter groaned from the pavement. "That's the first thing you say to me?"
Murdock stayed focused on the strange new target inside, leaving the boy to pick himself up to his feet.
"Oh, yeah, don't worry about it. I'll help myself up." He remarked sarcastically, dusting himself off. "Thanks anyway."
Through the fire and flames emerged the escaped test subject, the living weapon fueled by tormented rage.
"What the hell is that?"
The Devil was stunned. All he sensed was ragged breath and weakened organs, struggling overtime to compete with shifting machinery in constant motion. They scraped against themselves and her very flesh. It pained him just to visualize this monstrosity.
"Something that will make you glad you're blind." Peter glared in disgust.
017 extended her lethal claws. Her lean, twisted form cracked forward. Her beaming eyes of emerald were furious with hate. Any remnant of Lucia had now burnt away in that fallen facility. All that remained was her wrathful purpose. The profound id of which she wailed out so horrendously.
"DOOM!"
