Okay, so...my Batman: Arkham ideas aren't working out, at least for now. I do have a story idea I intend to try out, but this idea actually got my attention. It's a crossover with the recent Spider-Man game for the PS4. I've been playing said game, and have enjoyed it, for the most part, so trying out a crossover was more or less inevitable.

This is, eventually, a Harry/Felicia story, albeit with some past Harry/Silver Sable, as the flashback opening this story will show. Long story short, Harry ended up in the Symkaria civil war, and while he and the ICW team sent in helped resolve said war, it was at a ruinous cost to Harry's reputation, so much so that he is persona non grata in Britain. This has the knock-on effect of Silver being much less of a bitch than she is in the game, as the civil war plaguing her country is over, so while she's still a hardass in charge of Sable International, she's less of a villain. I'm also mixing in a few things here and there from the comics.


XANADU'S SHADOW

CHAPTER 1:

A BRITISH WIZARD IN MANHATTAN

"…So you're leaving?"

The speaker was a woman in her thirties, beautiful, but with a hard beauty, framed by a short bob of silver hair. She was dressed in a steel grey bodysuit, one more militaristic than titillating, with a similarly coloured jacket over it. She was looking at the other occupant of the room as they both nursed cups of tea.

"Yeah. I mean…I appreciate you helping me find asylum here while the ICW cleared my name, at least enough for me to be able to leave the country, but…even if I can't go home, I want to go somewhere. It's not that I don't love Symkaria. I do. You and your people made me feel very welcome. But…I was trapped here because of what Malfoy did."

"And you were like a caged tiger, pacing around its prison," the woman said to her guest, a young man in his twenties with a messy mop of dark hair, emerald eyes, and a distinctive scar in the shape of a lightning bolt, snaking its way from beneath his fringe. "I understand. I feel the same way. It is why I renounced my claim to the throne in favour of my brother Stefan. Having fought against our cousin and her hired thugs for so long…I do not think I can simply go back to our life the way we were. Not that our family has been soft, not since the Second World War, or the Cold War…but we became complacent. We thought that Latveria would be our worst problem. But now…the war is over. I struggle for purpose, and many of those under me do so as well."

"That's why you established the PMC, Silvija," the young man said. "Symkaria's economy needs revitalising anyway. But…it's also the fame. Too many people are viewing me as their saviour here…again."

"I understand, barát," the woman said sadly. "I despise the adulation too. That you have undergone it twice over…in any case, I wish to remain in touch. Even if we are not lovers now, we are most definitely friends, allies and comrades in arms. Know then that I am deeply and fully grateful for your help in toppling my cousin's regime, and while the name of Xanadu may be a curse to many, others will see it as a blessing. Even though you came here mostly as a field medic. So, where do you intend to head?"

"…A friend of mine suggested New York. She's working there. Besides, it might be interesting. Grindlewald caused that incident in the Thirties, and then there's those so-called superheroes. The Avengers, the X-Men, Spider-Man…actually, Dr Strange was one of those who helped me get exonerated. I could at least say thanks in person."

The woman rolled her eyes. "Doamne…going willingly amongst those vigilantes and troublemakers…still…take care of yourself, Harry."

"Hey, I'll be fine, Silvija…"


New York. If there was a metropolis that embodied metropolises the world over, it would be this. Ask someone in the world about the American city they knew of most, and New York would be close to the top if not at the top.

Its towering skyscrapers, clawing at the sky, had impressed many. German filmmaker Fritz Lang, after seeing those skyscrapers and the night life of the city back in the Twenties, was inspired by the imagery on display for one of his own works, the famous science fiction film Metropolis. The Metropolis of Superman and the Gotham City of Batman were also inspired by this cityscape.

New York was by no means the centre of the world, but it was certainly a hub of politics, culture and history. In fact, the latter was seemingly steeped into the stones of the city. It was an old city in a relatively young country, young as far as European colonisation was concerned anyway. And it also seemed steeped in glamour, in a way not dissimilar and yet apart from the cultural hub squatting on the other side of the country in Los Angeles.

True, it wasn't without an underbelly. No city is without its dark side, and New York's was particularly infamous. Vice and virtue clashed on a daily basis on the streets. And even its symbolic nature as one of the most noteworthy cities in the United States of America ended up making it a prime target of the terrorist attacks on September 11 in 2001. The World Trade Centre, a pair of gleaming towers of commerce, were no more, brought down by fanaticism.

But New York was a resilient and tenacious entity. It embodied much of the US, both good and bad. And it was often the first port of call for those looking to make a fresh start, making the transition from the Old World to the New World.

One such emigrant had a chequered past. Hero, villain, pawn, messiah, saviour, destroyer, and so many more epithets could have been applied to him. But now, he just wanted, if not a quiet life, then at least one where he could live on his own terms.

More fool him…


Harry looked at the industrial building in Greenwich Village. It didn't look all that impressive, but he knew that appearances could be deceiving. He'd been asked to come here by an old friend, and frankly, he needed a reunion with a friendly face.

He'd just spent two days being all but interrogated by not just the mundane immigration authorities, but MACUSA. True, he could understand the increased paranoia after 9/11, but they kept asking him questions about his actions in Symkaria, despite the deposition he gave to the ICW, despite the statement he had written up for both the Muggles and the wizards. Both fucking idiots, he reckoned, obsessed with the infamous Xanadu. It took him several hours before he was finally shuffled onto someone relatively reasonable, Medea Graves, one of the New York DMLE's top Aurors.

Graves had a stick up her arse the size of the Chrysler Building, but she was at least reasonable. With her help, his entry into the US and a probationary residential visa was approved. It didn't hurt that he had quite a bit of money, not for bribes, but because it would help the local economy if he actually spent it.

His first port of call was to touch base with his old friend, one of the few he had left over from the Hogwarts years. What Malfoy managed to do to his reputation in Symkaria pretty much ensured that he was persona non grata in Britain, and he was lucky to get his money out of the country. It was this friend who suggested he come to New York anyway.

He entered the building, and soon found the door he was looking for, marked 'Octavius Industries'. There was a keycard panel near the door, but he didn't have one, so he knocked. After about half a minute of waiting, he raised his fist to knock on the door again, only for it to open.

The young man who was revealed was barely older than a teenager, tall and gangly, but with what seemed to be some muscle hiding beneath his clothes. Brown hair framed a long but handsome, in a mildly geeky way, face. Hazel eyes met Harry's own emerald. "Sorry, can I help you?"

"Yes, I'm a friend of Dr Granger? I'm Harry Potter. Are you Peter Parker?"

"Oh, yes!" the younger man smiled a bit sheepishly, shaking his hand. "Dr Granger's spoken about you, said you were coming soon. I only just joined. Come in."

Harry did so. When he heard the name Octavius Industries, he thought of a vast factory-like space. However, this seemed to be more like a fairly large workshop with a couple of offices off to one side. Oh, the vast array of technology was impressive, and he hoped Hermione's zeal would work well with the equipment here. He was led through into one of the offices, where two figures were standing in front of a whiteboard, looking at a diagram festooned with calculations.

"…Right materials for the neural interface is the main problem so far," a chubby man remarked. He reminded Harry a little of Ludo Bagman, in the sense that the man seemed to once have had a stocky but fit body that had gone to seed, but unlike that bastard Bagman, the man's thinning hair, glasses and gaze pegged him as being intelligent. "I still want to work on the cranial interface, refining it so those possible problems get ironed out, but…"

"That's more of a future project. We're creating artificial limbs for amputees for now, not whole new limbs for the disabled. But…Harry!" This came from the young woman with a mass of bushy hair standing next to the older man, who quickly went over and gave Harry a big hug.

"Hey, Hermione…you're looking well," Harry said, giving his long time friend a tired smile.

"Liar," she retorted good-naturedly. "You can see the bags under my eyes. I swear, Doctor Octavius has been having me burn the midnight oil."

True, she had bags under her eyes from tiredness, but she still seemed energetic and full of life. And the older man chuckled, and said, "Hermione, you may call me Otto, as I keep telling you. And you're the one insisting on triple-checking everything, for which I am grateful. Between you and Peter, I would never have made the progress that I have. So, you are Harry Potter, the friend Hermione keeps talking about. I'm Dr Otto Octavius. Please, call me Otto."

The genial scientist came over and offered his hand, and Harry took it. "Thanks. Hermione insisted that I come over and see you when I got things settled."

"Hmm. I heard you'd been involved, albeit unofficially, in the civil war in Symkaria," Otto said. "I'm sorry if that opens old wounds, but Hermione assures me that, unlike how many saw you in Britain, you are a young man of immaculate character."

Harry winced, but eventually nodded. "Let's just say someone framed me for a lot of deaths, and it didn't help when I killed him. He was the heir of a fairly rich family with a lot of influence in certain circles, and despite the fact that I had saved his worthless arse, he repaid me with betrayal of me and my comrades. More than a few friends I knew from school died in the process, including Hermione's boyfriend at the time. But I had to seek asylum in Symkaria for a few years with the help of the royal family."

"How is Silvija, anyway?" Hermione asked.

"She's currently running the Sable International PMC, though she prefers to be known as Silver Sable these days," Harry said. "And she's fine. With Symkaria now more or less free of trouble, she's got less issues."

"You're friends with Silvija Sablinova?" Peter asked.

"Sort of. More like former comrades-in-arms," Harry said. "Anyway…Hermione told me about the work you were doing here, Otto. She said you were working on cybernetic prostheses for amputees, amongst other things. I'm surprised Stark Industries or the Future Foundation haven't worked on something like that."

Otto scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. "Stark is more concerned with hedonism, and he seems to spend more time with his so-called bodyguard and the Avengers on the West Coast lately, while Dr Richards, though an undeniable genius, can't make cost-effective inventions, and he and the Fantastic Four are often off gallivanting around as well. Only SHIELD and those with similar budgets can afford them. These prosthetics need to be affordable for the people. Expensive, yes, you can't get away from that, but it should still be affordable enough that you don't have to be Tony Stark or Norman Osborn to afford it. Though given the way the world is, I doubt they'd be covered by an HMO. Of course, such research and development needs money. I get a grant from the city, but that also means I am beholden to Osborn's whims."

Harry noticed that when he mentioned the name of the infamous CEO of Oscorp and current Mayor of New York City, Otto's voice became a touch more venomous. Maybe there was history between them, though Osborn wasn't exactly a popular mayor in many circles. There were frequent allegations of conflict of interests, and while Oscorp funded a number of facilities around New York, there were also rumours of shady, military and medical research.

Harry decided to bring something up. "Hermione suggested that I invest in your research. I've got quite a bit of money, enough that I could actually live for some time rather comfortably off it, but I'm willing to invest some of it in your company. As you know, I witnessed the effects of war in Symkaria, including loss of limbs. It might mean that you have a backstop if you lose the grant. I want to wait and see something of your research first, and then we can negotiate the investment. I also have contacts with Sable International, as they've been working with prosthetics as well as powered armour tech, so if that helps…"

Otto peered at him, a little wariness mixed up in his gaze. "And why would you do this for us?"

"…Because you do good work, and I trust Hermione's opinion above…well, almost anyone else alive, really," Harry said bluntly. "I'm not going to be funding your whole R&D, but I do want to help. Besides, I'm a trained combat medic. I know a little about medicine, anatomy and physiology, and I might be able to help that way."

Otto looked to Hermione, before looking back at Harry. "I see. Well, we'll discuss this at a later date. Don't get me wrong, I'm always happy to receive funding, but when you've experienced what I have, you have to wonder what strings are attached. Please don't be offended."

"I'm fine," Harry said. "I've been mistrusted and badmouthed myself way too often. Anyway, I need to find a place to live first. You have anything in mind, Hermione?"

"There's a nice apartment in the same building I live in," Hermione said. "I'll talk things over with the landlord…"


They continued to talk for a little while, before Harry finally left, being given details by Hermione. He smiled ruefully to himself as he walked back to the hotel he was staying at for now. Hermione had more than a few reasons to hate him. Ron had died when Malfoy sprang his little trap in Symkaria. And when Hermione tracked down her parents in Australia and removed their Obliviations…well, they had disowned her. That she'd held herself together long enough to go through university, get a doctorate, and head out of Britain was a testament to her strength of character and will. That, and the fact that she was actually heir to the Dagworth-Granger family and thus a small fortune that helped set her up for life.

She should hate him. It was thanks to the fact that she was friends with Harry Potter that she'd lost her boyfriend and her family. But she remained friends with him. It's more than a lot of people in Britain were. He could count the remaining friends he had in Magical Britain on two hands and have fingers spare for the obscene gestures he had for the remainder.

All because of Malfoy. All because of the information he leaked to Countess Katarina Karkov and her own wizards, and the blame he placed on Harry. Oh, he got his in the end, but with Malfoy dead, even with his name exonerated by the ICW, he had plenty of people in Britain gunning for him.

Even now, the codename he had accepted as part of the ICW peacekeeping forces haunted him. Xanadu, named for the summer capital of Kublai Khan, Shangdu. It was really just a stupid nickname. He'd been going through a phase thanks to Hermione getting him into poetry like Coleridge, and he'd chosen it. Now it haunted him.

But he was coming out from beneath Xanadu's shadow. Hopefully, New York would be a new start. Maybe it would be interesting, though hopefully not in the cursed sense of the term.

Time would put that lie to that notion…

CHAPTER 1 ANNOTATIONS:

So, a post-Hogwarts Harry has ended up in New York, with the shadow of a past fiasco hanging over him. And it seems that he was friends and more with Silver Sable.

Now, for those wondering, in the comics, Symkaria's official languages are Symkarian and Hungarian. This isn't so clear-cut in the game, so I decided that Symkarian is actually a Hungarian dialect, but with a stronger amount of Romanian words (given that Symkaria and Latveria are pretty much sandwiched between the two countries). So most phrases will be Hungarian, but with a few interjections or phrases in Romanian.

No numbered annotations this time.