TEN YEARS AGO:
In the vibrant heart of Central City, life unfolded in its usual rhythm. The sun bathed the streets in a warm glow, and the distant sound of laughter and chatter filled the air. Though the residents were acutely aware of the dark specters that loomed just beyond the horizon, these tranquil moments were precious—like rare gemstones amidst an unpredictable storm. However, ever since the public emergence of the Justice League, those tranquil days had become increasingly fleeting. What was once a threat every five years or so had morphed into a reality of disruptions almost at their doorstep.
At that moment, Samuel Carson guided his expectant wife, Stacy, from the doctor's office toward their parked car. Stacy, a radiant woman with an unmistakable glow of impending motherhood, was five months pregnant, her hand resting gently over her rounded belly. They strolled together, engaged in a lighthearted debate about recent news updates.
"I still don't understand why you don't want to know the sex of our baby," Stacy protested, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "What's the harm in finding out?"
"I just prefer the surprise," Samuel countered, the warmth of her excitement making him smile. "I offered to step out if you wanted to know."
"Doesn't it seem ridiculous to learn something you won't?" she challenged, arching an eyebrow playfully as she linked her arm with his.
Their conversation was cut short by a sudden, piercing scream echoing through the streets. Startled, they turned to see a scene of chaos unfolding before them. In the distance, a massive shape barreled through the streets, cars tumbling like toys in its wake. Instinctively, Samuel moved to shield his wife as the screeching sound of metal on metal filled the air.
Just as a vehicle careened toward them, a mighty gust of wind swept in. They looked up to find Superman soaring down from the sky, his iconic cape fluttering behind him. With unwavering strength, he caught the car just before it could crush them, his voice ringing with reassurance.
"You're safe!" Clark Kent declared, his eyes fierce yet kind. "Get to safety!"
Yet, before Samuel could fully process the surreal scene, another car hurtled through the air. In a flash, Captain America was there, propelled into action. She soared gracefully, her shield raised high, intercepting the vehicle mid-flight. The impact resonated in the air as her Vibranium shield absorbed the blow, causing the car to crumple and drop to the ground.
About a block away, the villain Herman Schultz—known as the Shocker—stood amidst the chaos, his gauntlets pulsing with energy. With a malicious grin, he unleashed a fearsome shockwave, launching vehicles skyward like feathers caught in a tempest. In a synchronized dance, the rest of the Justice League sprang into action. Batwoman swooped down, skillfully rescuing pedestrians from certain doom, while Spider-Man swung in, expertly casting webs that ensnared tumbling cars like a masterful artist at work.
But the battle was far from over. Supergirl took to the skies, her blonde hair trailing behind her like a comet. Yet just as she neared Shocker, another shockwave sent her crashing into a nearby building, leaving a significant dent in the brickwork as she groaned, though thankfully, she remained unscathed apart from the ringing in her ears. Iron-Spider zipped overhead, tossing a flurry of smoke bombs that created a dense veil, obscuring Shocker's line of sight amidst the chaos.
Realizing that attempting to drive away was futile, Samuel grabbed Stacy's hand, determination overtaking fear as they bolted down the street to find refuge. Shocker, disoriented by the smoke, he fired shots haphazardly in frustration. One stray blast sent a car hurtling toward them once more.
"Stacy!" Samuel yelled, panic surging through him.
But before disaster could strike, the Flash appeared in a blur, rushing toward them with extraordinary speed. In an instant, he whisked the couple away, traversing several blocks in a heartbeat, the world around them a colorful streak as they fled the calamity.
"You're safe now," Barry assured them, offering a quick, reassuring smile before darting back into the fray. "Sorry for the inconvenience!"
In the hushed aftermath of chaos, Samuel clutched Stacy tightly, a wave of relief washing over him as he witnessed her draw a deep, steadying breath. They stood together, cradled in a moment of safety, even as the storm raged ominously around them, dark clouds swirling like ominous shadows above.
Yet, in that fragile moment, something ignited within Sam. He had felt the razor's edge of fear, the chilling realization of how easily he could lose his family to this treacherous world. A fierce determination bubbled to life within him; he resolved to forge a path of protection for those he held dear.
Thus, the spark of an audacious idea was born.
For weeks at Dayton Laboratories, Sam began to weave a web of connections with an almost frenetic urgency. His mind raced with possibilities as he delved into his project: an armored suit designed for strength and safety. Collaborating with the ingenious Herman Schultz, he conceptualized the creation of alternate shock gauntlets—remarkable devices crafted to unleash shockwaves that could repel adversaries, sending them sprawling, the intensity adjustable to meet the might of his foe. In the heat of battle, the adaptable gauntlets were poised to form a protective barrier, a shield born of high-tech ingenuity, just when he needed it most.
Every detail was meticulously thought out. His feet were encased in specially designed boots equipped with advanced cushioning to absorb impacts, allowing him to land softly as if cradled by an invisible hand. When fully adorned in his full-body battle suit, he became a vision of power and agility. Each component was imbued with cutting-edge vibro-shock technology that he had painstakingly designed. This mechanism unleashed high-pressure air blasts capable of propelling him forward with earth-shattering strength, capable of breaking concrete with a single strike.
With a mere flick of his wrist, the gauntlets transformed his agility, allowing him to harness their energy. By plunging the devices into the ground and activating them, he could launch himself skyward, soaring across rooftops with the grace and precision of a predator, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. Samuel was no longer just a man; he was becoming the protector he knew he had to become, geared up for the battles that awaited, all to safeguard the precious family he cherished.
Making his way down the streets in the night, Sam started to walk around the streets looking for crimes in his part of the city. He walked around, noticing that the people on the streets didn't seem to mind him. They either thought he was some cosplayer or a vigilante, which he kinda is. He continued to roam the streets, looking for small crimes to try out his suit.
He heard a bottle breaking and dogs barking, but it was the screams in the distance that got his attention. Making his way toward the screams, he used his shockwaves to shoot himself off the ground, flying towards where the screams came from.
A bit down the street from where he was, a group of men surrounded a woman who cowered into an alley with a dead end. When they started to circle around her, Sam landed on the ground and shook a little on the impact. He got their attention, getting them to look over towards Sam as he took a quick breath at his landing.
"Whew," Sam said in relief. "Shock absorbers work. Great." He then looked over and saw the men surrounding her. "Hey, back off!"
"Who are you supposed to be?" One asked, rushing over with a pipe, only for it to break on impact. "What?"
"Sweet!" Sam said, charging a small blast that he then punched the attacker, sending him flying, and shoved him against the wall where he was pinned by the continuous flow. The continuous shockwave was keeping him forced against the wall, giving Sam a chance to fend off the others. "Come on, give up, now!"
One of them pulled a gun, but the bullet ricocheted off of his suit, embedding into a wall.
"Seriously?" Sam asked sarcastically. He then raised his gauntlet, but instead of a shockwave, this one had a punch-powered up charge and knocked one of them out. "OOh! That was not what I was going for! You okay?"
He didn't respond as he was unconscious, but another came up and tried to attack. Sam activated his barrier to test it, and when he got close enough, the last offender was sent flying and knocked out.
"You alright, ma'am?" Sam asked the woman.
"Who are you?" She wonders.
"Shockwave," Sam gave himself a name, making his way off to find anyone else to save.
Frankie glanced around, her heart pounding in her chest, at the surreal landscape that unfurled before her—an ethereal realm encased in a kaleidoscope of shattered glass. Each fragment caught the dim light, creating a dazzling array of colors that danced around her. Slowly, she turned her gaze upward, her breath hitching as she beheld a colossal figure hovering above her, his illuminated blue eyesockets glowing like twin stars against the void. His large head was adorned with flowing cloaks that billowed as if caught in an invisible wind.
"And you are...?" Frankie ventured, her voice trembling yet curious.
"I... am Uatu, the Watcher," he responded, his voice reverberating like distant thunder, filled with wonder and solemnity. "I am the overseer of the Multiverse, a narrator of the timeless tales woven through infinity." He leaned closer, his gaze piercing yet soft, confusion etching lines across his vast forehead. "But how are you... here?"
Frankie shrugged, her fingers brushing against the cool shards around her as if seeking clarity. "Where is 'here'?"
"This... I suppose it's the world between worlds to you," the Watcher elucidated, his ethereal tone tinged with mystery. "I call it the Nexus. But how did you arrive in this place?"
"I was searching for a mentor," Frankie confessed, urgency lacing her voice. "I just want to go home. I miss my family..."
"But..." The Watcher raised a graceful hand, the remnants of shattered glass swirling through the air as if summoned by his will. "Your journey should have reached its end." He watched with a mix of reverence and sadness as Frankie soared into the sky, a radiant figure filled with energy harvested from the Time Core to thwart Kang. "Frankie Snow-Parker, Metalla, sacrificed her life to protect all she cherished from Kang the Conqueror, saving not just her world but the entire multiverse. Countless lives owe you their existence."
"Well, it seems someone miscalculated," Frankie scoffed, a spark of defiance igniting within her. "I'm not dead."
"Indeed." The Watcher contemplated, deftly maneuvering the glass shards back into the collage of glimmering fragments around them. "Your narrative has been altered. You now wield the power over what transpires next. For better and for worse."
"For better or worse?" Frankie echoed, a ripple of uncertainty washing over her. "What does that even mean?"
"I cannot say," the Watcher admitted, a shadow of frustration crossing his otherwise serene expression. "Though I have eyes across the entirety of the multiverse, one truth remains consistent in every reality—your survival is an impossible outcome. Surviving now... it alters the very fabric of existence."
"Can you send me home?" Frankie implored, desperation threading her words. "Please... I just want to go home."
The Watcher exhaled deeply, the weight of eternity resting on his shoulders. "I am bound by an ancient oath. I vowed never to meddle in the lives woven through the multiverse."
Frankie's shoulders sagged, a sigh of frustration escaping her lips as she grappled with the heaviness of his words.
"But..." The Watcher hesitated, a flicker of hope igniting in his gaze. "Since you do not belong to the multiverse, I may be able to bend the rules..."
A radiant smile broke across Frankie's face, igniting her spirit with renewed determination. She understood in that fleeting moment—she had a chance to reclaim her home.
EARTH-1:
Barry stood inside one of PARKER Industries' state-of-the-art facilities, a place designed specifically for the training of Metahumans. This particular wing was shrouded in secrecy, deliberately kept off the cameras and the official records, serving as a hidden environment exclusively for members of the Justice League.
Patty's brow furrowed as she observed Barry. "He's getting slower," she remarked, concern lacing her voice.
Cisco, glancing over with a quizzical expression, shot her a question. "He doesn't remember anything about his time in the Speed Force?"
Patty shrugged, her eyes fixed on Barry. "Not that he's mentioned."
Cisco muttered to himself, deep in thought. "This is peculiar." He turned to Barry, gesturing for him to take a break. "Bare, step off the treadmill."
With a weary sigh, Barry's footsteps slowed as he stepped away from the machine, glistening with sweat. He approached them, a mix of confusion and frustration etched across his face. "Anything new?"
"Nothing seems awry at a cellular level," Cisco replied, his voice steady yet pondering. "If I were to speculate... it feels like there's something off with the Speed Force itself."
Barry sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. "I mean, that's a possibility. If only I could remember what happened..."
Cisco offered a piece of wisdom. "In my opinion, it might be wise to hold off on using your speed until Caitlin can give you a thorough checkup."
Just as their conversation hung in the air, the sharp shrill of their phones cut through the tension, jolting them into alertness. They glanced at their screens, eyes widening in disbelief as they read the urgent alert: the police convoy had come under attack. By none other than Kraven...
The atmosphere around PARKER Industries buzzed with tension as a crowd gathered to witness the aftermath of the chaos wrought by Kraven. The sun cast a bleak light over the docks, where the Young Justice team struggled valiantly amid debris and the frayed remnants of panic. Waterlogged and disoriented civilians sought help, many requiring urgent medical attention as the team tirelessly worked to restore order.
"How's the cleanup coming along?" Peter asked, his brow furrowed with concern.
"Slow," Violet sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping under the weight of exhaustion. "I had to step away from my powers for a bit. Kraven left a disaster in his wake."
"Braven is back," Cisco said.
Barry rubbed the back of his neck, weariness evident in his voice. "And he unleashed a whole host of our oldest foes. But the question is… why?"
Peter shook his head, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "Kraven never had a firm grasp on sanity, even at his peak."
Crystal's eyes narrowed, her frustration boiling over. "So, why is he not locked up?"
"Kraven managed to wrangle some slick lawyers who got him released after he was diagnosed with cancer." Peter exhaled sharply, disbelief tinging his tone. "I honestly thought he was done with the hunt."
"Yeah, well, it seems that resolution didn't stick," Alex chimed in, his expression darkening as he gestured to the door where the entire National City team had emerged, creating a palpable shift in the air. "He targeted National City."
Peter-38's voice was heavy with dismay as he added, "He kidnapped the twins, decimated the Dream Team, and shot Kara with Kryptonite gas."
A gasp escaped Caitlin's lips, disbelief washing over her features. "Is she alright?"
"Brainy is monitoring her, along with the Dream Team," Peter-616 announced as he and MJ entered the room, their presence drawing sudden attention.
Peter-1's eyes narrowed with irritation at the sight of him. "What are you doing here?" he snapped, tension mounting.
Anticipating the response, Peter-616 raised a calming hand. "I know I may be the last person you wish to see—"
"Correct," Peter-1 interjected sharply.
"But I'm here because you need me. I wouldn't abandon you all to face this chaos alone," Peter-616 replied earnestly.
Just then, the air shimmered, and Tula materialized through a breach, flanked by Dante, Tommy, Tina, and April. She brandished her trident, puncturing the ground with a force that echoed her urgency.
"Tula, what brings you here?" Barry asked, his voice laced with confusion, bewilderment evident in the furrow of his brow and the widening of his eyes.
"Kraven attacked Atlantis," Tula declared, her voice a fierce torrent, unwavering and imbued with an unshakeable resolve, as though she were a warrior standing firm against a storm. "My mother was struck down and is now clinging to life—barely hanging on."
"Oh, my god," Caitlin gasped, her breath hitching in her throat, the gravity of Tula's news washing over her like a cold wave.
"And there's someone else..." Alex's gaze shifted toward Anissa, who had just entered the room, her presence charged with tension. "This is Anissa Kravenoff."
"As in—" confusion flickered on their faces, caught between disbelief and anticipation.
"Kraven is my father," Anissa confirmed with a weary sigh, the weight of her lineage heavy in her tone. "He hunted my entire family; I am the last of us."
"You serious?" Teresa blurted out, shock rippling through her voice as she struggled to comprehend the twisted legacy of the notorious hunter. "Kraven has gone insane."
"He raised us to be the greatest hunters, just like him," Anissa explained, her voice dropping into a reflective tone, laden with the bitterness of betrayal and loss.
"What do we do?" Aster asked, her eyes scanning the room, searching for answers amidst the uncertainty.
"We have to find everyone Kraven might target," Peter-1 declared, his voice firm, churning with urgency. "Any Metahuman still out there, any vigilante, anyone we might know. We can't leave anyone behind."
"What about the Defenders?" Caitlin wondered aloud, her thoughts racing as she assessed the situation.
"Well, Jessica hasn't been active lately," Peter-1 replied, a trace of concern flitting across his features as memories danced in his mind. "Luke is all but retired. And Matt..."
An unspoken understanding passed among the group, a silent acknowledgment of the unlikeliness of their ally's return.
"He hasn't worn that cowl in six years," Peter-1 sighed heavily, the weight of loss anchoring his words. "Not since Bullseye..."
"It was heartbreaking what he did to Karen and Foggy," Barry murmured, a shadow of sorrow crossing his face.
"But Frank might still be out there," Peter-1 offered, sparking a flicker of hope. "I'll go check on him. We have history."
"We'll look into anyone else we can think of," Tina affirmed, determination hardening her expression.
"Kraven's brother still lives in the city; we might want to start there," Peter-1 added, urgency threading through his tone.
"Brother?" The twins echoed, eyes wide in disbelief at the unravelling web of this dangerous family.
"What about the Gotham team?" Angelica asked, her voice threaded with concern and the weight of responsibility.
"We're here," Terry's voice cut through the tension, startling everyone as they turned to see him striding in, a determined look etched on his features, with Karen in his arms, still recovering from her harrowing ordeal with the Kryptonite, and Mia accompanying him, her expression resolute. "The Hunters hit us for the Kryptonite supply."
"Karen got too close to it," Mia explained tersely, urgency sparking in her eyes. "Count us in on whatever comes next."
Peter-1 nodded firmly, adrenaline surging through him. "Alright, scatter and protect anyone we can. Kraven isn't going to hunt anyone in my city."
As the bustling crowd shifted and swirled around them, Tommy broke away from the throng, a sense of urgency propelling him down the dimly lit hallway in search of Tula. He spotted her and called out, "Hey, Tula, can we talk?"
Tula, her brow furrowed and her expression tight with determination, replied curtly, "I'm a little busy at the moment, Tommy."
Undeterred, Tommy hurried to her side, grasping her shoulder gently but firmly, halting her forward momentum. "Tula, come on, this is the first time we've seen each other in months! Can't we spare a moment to talk?"
A fire ignited in Tula's eyes as she faced him, her voice laced with anger. "You want to talk, Tommy? Fine! My mother was attacked by a monster—a freak hunter who saw her as nothing more than a trophy. She's clinging to life, and I need to find him. Make him pay for what he did! And you want me to pause and discuss our relationship?"
Tommy's heart sank as he processed her words. "Is this a relationship?" he asked, confusion etched across his face. "You hardly visit anymore, we barely see you. It's like this—this connection between us is fading away."
"There are more important things unfolding right now, Tommy," Tula shot back, her voice firm and unyielding.
He looked into her fierce eyes and let out a weary sigh. "You don't understand. I'm not just talking about the here and now. I'm asking about the past and future. Why have you distanced yourself? Why haven't we seen you—"
Tula clenched her fists, a storm of frustration swirling within her. With a sudden outburst, she screamed, "Because I don't know what to do!" The raw emotion spilled forth, a confession entwined with anguish. "Because I don't understand how any of this is supposed to work! You're a human, I'm an Atlantean," she said, the weight of her responsibilities hanging heavily in the air. "I can't invite you into my world. I have duties to my people and can't remain so far from the ocean."
Tommy absorbed her words like a sponge, allowing their full significance to wash over him. "So, where does that leave us?" he wondered aloud, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
Tula's gaze dropped, her own heart heavy with the burden of unanswered questions. "I don't know," she admitted softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... don't know."
Tina, Tommy, and April navigated the bustling city streets, the distant hum of traffic fading as they climbed to the rooftop of a taller building nearby. Lyla, their steadfast guide, pointed toward a condo that appeared vacant, its windows dark and uninviting.
"Chester, we've arrived," Tina announced into the communicator, her voice steady even as doubt flickered in her mind.
"Are you certain he's here?" April asked, her brow furrowed with concern as she peered through the glass façade at the shadowy interior.
Tommy chimed in, "Yeah, it looks like no one's home right now." The tension in the air seemed to thicken around them.
"Chameleon is supposed to be residing here," Chester assured them, his voice carrying a hint of urgency.
"Time to investigate. Report back with what you find," Ronnie instructed, his tone brokering no argument.
With a resigned sigh, Tommy led the way, swinging down into the condo along with his sisters through the roof opening. They landed softly on the cool tile floor, gazing around in wide-eyed wonder. The space was eerily still, filled with a bizarre collection of mannequins, both male and female, adorned in an eclectic array of outfits that ranged from flamboyant to sophisticated. It felt more like a fashion showroom than a home, with each figure frozen in a pose as though caught mid-stride in a bustling world of style.
Tina and April descended from the rooftop, cautiously surveying their surroundings and reassessing their safety.
"Hello?" Tommy's voice echoed through the silence, a ripple of uncertainty threading through the otherwise calm atmosphere.
Tina called out, "Dmitri Smerdyakov?" The name hung in the air, charged with anticipation and the unspoken promise of the unknown.
"Chameleon?" April cried.
"Sergei. After all these years... how are you?" A voice from speakers around the room said.
"Who's there?" Tommy called.
"Make yourself at home, there's a martini waiting for you at the counter."
Tommy walked over towards the counter and saw there was indeed a martini.
"Ahh, two olives... just how you hate it."
"Two olives and... sedadine," Tommy told the girls.
"Who lives here?" Tina wonders.
"So, you have finally come to reunite in Central City. Let us hide and seek like old times."
Tina approached the piano and played a few notes.
"You never cared to hear me play... but surely you remember this refrain?" The voice continued to talk through the speakers.
April approached an unfinished chess match and made the finishing move. She moved a Bishop across the map, putting it into checkmate. "Checkmate."
That opened a secret compartment that surprised them when they looked up and saw a portion of the wall revealing something.
"This is how all horror movies begin," Tommy tells them.
"You found my secret... but who lies within?"
"Definitely the Chameleon's place." Tina guessed, them making their way down.
They found a room full of clothes of various sorts and sizes. But what shocked them most was the walls. They were filled with masks that looked to be made out of rubber. Some fo them were faces of people they recognized.
"You call yourself the great hunter, but your trophies pale in comparison to mine."
They made their way back to a secret room filled with computers.
"When I fled Volgograd, I never thought I would find a place to call home. But I am happy here."
"This guy was filled with secrets within secrets," April said, looking around.
"This is the missing person database," Tommy recognized. "There's about twenty million identities from across the world. All their information."
"That must be how he's stayed hidden." Tina guessed.
"I gave you everything when we were children, I don't understand. You didn't even share your name. You hated me. Not anymore. I refuse to be hunted. I will see you soon, brother, but you will never see me!"
That was when gas started to fill the room, causing the three of them to gag. Rushing out of the area, they found their pathway blocked by a barricaded door. April used the Symbiote and struck it, slamming it down as they rushed to get out of the area. They managed to escape, swinging their way through the city.
"Kraven and Chameleon are brothers. Wow." Tommy said.
"Well, seems like we don't have to worry about him going after Chameleon. Seems he realized his brother was in town and fled," Tina said.
"Let's report back," April said.
Peter cautiously took one of Armando's breaches, a tangled web of shadows and secrets, to the very location where he knew the Punisher lay low. The last intel indicated that Frank Castle was hiding out between cities, avoiding the spotlight, and Peter's instincts led him toward an abandoned building that appeared innocuous, a decaying shell of concrete and despair. But the unmistakable Punisher logo etched on the back spoke volumes about the dark deeds that transpired within its walls.
Activating his Synthetic Symbiote, Peter sensed the hidden energies in the atmosphere and discovered a concealed passage that spiraled down into a basement cloaked in darkness. Heart racing, he descended the creaking stairway and stepped into a room that felt heavy with history—walls lined with worn lockers and splintered benches that had seen better days. In one corner, a makeshift bed lay humble and unadorned, while an entire wall was plastered with clippings of faces, grim trophies marked by newspaper headlines and photographs, remnants of lives intertwined with vengeance.
"Christ," Peter breathed, realizing just how deeply entrenched Frank was in his battle against the scourge that haunted him. A shiver ran down his spine as he sensed a familiar presence looming nearby. "I know you are in—"
Suddenly, a primal roar erupted from the shadows as Frank Castle lunged at him. The Punisher slammed Peter against the cold, unforgiving lockers, wielding a hatchet with deadly precision. Peter's instincts kicked in, but he had no desire to engage in violence; his mission was one of peace, not conflict.
"It's me! It's me!" Peter shouted, the urgency of his words almost frantic. "Frank! Frank! Frank! It's Spider-Man!"
Realization flickered through Frank's dark eyes, but the anger still simmered beneath the surface. He looked older than the last time they had crossed paths, lines of battle etched deep into his face. "Goddamn it!" he barked, gripping the hatchet like a lifeline.
"Mind putting the hatchet down?" Peter asked, raising his hands in a gesture of goodwill.
With a swift, fluid motion, Frank spun the hatchet and drove it into the locker beside Peter's head, the sound echoing ominously in the cramped space. "What're you doing here?"
"How have you been? Good?" Peter ventured, attempting to break the ice, a lightheartedness cutting through the tension like a knife.
"Peachy," Frank scoffed, turning away to plop down on a rickety chair, the weight of his past heavy on his shoulders. "What do you want?"
"There's a new threat lurking out there, Frank." Peter paused, taking a breath and shedding the Synthetic Symbiote to face Frank directly. "Kraven is back, and he's hunting people like us. Heroes."
"What does that got to do with me?" Frank replied, skepticism shadowing his features.
"Nothing to do with you, right. Silly me." Peter's tone shifted, laced with sarcasm. "Because you're not a hero, as you love to remind us." His eyes wandered over the remnants of Frank's life—this forlorn sanctuary filled with scars of a war long fought. "Nice place you got here."
"Huh. Appreciate that," Frank murmured, his voice low and gravelly.
"Although, here's a thought. You could use all this—this anger, this drive—to actually be of real service." Peter leaned in slightly, trying to ignite a flame of purpose within the man before him.
"Yeah. Be of service, huh?" Frank's eyes hardened, a mix of disbelief and bitterness washing over him. "Are you—are you of service, Spandex? Did you serve? You prance around the city in a Halloween costume, beating the snot out of bad guys. Hey, thank you for your service! Last I checked, you had retired! And now you're back?"
"I mean, you could help people; you could save lives," Peter pressed, desperation creeping into his voice.
"I did that," Frank shot back, his face a mask of resolved sorrow. "I was down range, Spandex. Look at what it got me." The weight of his past hung heavily in the air, a testament to the scars that ran deeper than flesh.
"Oh, I apologize. I didn't realize you were a victim in all this." Peter scoffed.
Frank tossed a metal can at Peter, who didn't even flinch as a tendril came from the suit and caught it. "I didn't use that word my entire life. You don't put it in my mouth,
you understand that?"
"All right, so you tell me what's going on, buddy. What're you doing down here day after day, just hiding out?" Peter asked him. "Did you already get visited by our strange Hunters?"
"I ain't hiding from nobody!" Frank proclaimed. "You walked in, I'm right here."
"Plotting your next kill?" Peter asks.
"You're goddamn right." Frank cried.
"Great. How is that working out?" Peter asked him.
"You wanna go out there on the street, have at it! But I do not have time for your candy-ass hero shit." Frank proclaimed in anger. "Is that clear?"
"Yeah. Loud and clear." Peter scoffed. "Sorry to waste your time."
"Yeah. I'll tell you what I think, Spandex." Frank said as he stood up.
"Tell me. Tell me what you think." Peter scoffed.
"I don't think you came here to see if I needed help," Frank said. "See. I think you want my permission. You wanna get your hands on this guy, huh? Wanna hurt 'em. Before they hurt someone you love. Maybe you're a little bit scared. A little scared about what that means."
"That's an interesting take, Frank, but... no." Peter scoffed. "But, uh, yeah, no. Sorry, buddy. Way off on that one."
"Yeah, you're so full of shit, Spandex. So full of shit." Frank stated as he stood up, walking over towards Peter. "It's guilt."
"Excuse me?" Peter asks.
"Yeah, that guilt, that shame, that's my home, Spandex. And I can see it on you, I can smell it on you. It's all over you." Frank told Peter.
"I'm going to come back another day, Frank—maybe catch you at a moment when you might be more receptive," Peter said, heading for the door with a heavy heart.
"You roll in here with that nonsense about saving lives," Frank shot back, his voice dripping with contempt. "What about that kid of yours? Did you really save her life?"
In an instant, Peter froze, the words crashing over him like an unforgiving wave. Frankie. The name echoed in his mind, amplifying the guilt that twisted inside him—a dark storm brewing in his chest, recalling the child he had failed to protect.
"You lost her, didn't you, Spandex?" Frank pressed, eyes sharp as daggers. He had worn the same grief like a shard of glass, recognizing that hollow look in Peter's eyes—one borne from a shattered family.
"It's not about her," Peter insisted, his voice quavering, unsure if he was lying to Frank or merely to himself.
"Then say her name," Frank challenged, stepping closer, an intensity in his gaze that dared Peter to confront the truth.
"It's not about her. It's not about her," Peter repeated, his voice a hollow whisper, as if he could convince himself through sheer force of will.
"Ah, for Christ's sake, just say her name!" Frank pressed, anger and urgency pulsing through every word. "You think it isn't about her? You're simply hiding; it's eating you alive because you haven't done a damn thing about it, so—"
In a flash, Peter's anger erupted, a fist flying toward Frank that sent him crashing to the ground. Instantly, regret washed over Peter like ice water. "God. Goddamn it. I'm sorry, I apologize!" he stammered, his heart racing.
"What are you sorry for?" Frank asked, rising with a resilience that was almost eerie. He met Peter's gaze with an unwavering intensity as if the world around them had faded. "That was the first honest thing you've done, Spandex."
"It's not about her," Peter protested once more, the words slipping from his lips like a desperate incantation.
"It's all about her," Frank retorted, his voice resolute. "She talks to you, doesn't she? You hear her voice. I know you do. Every time I pause, I can still hear my little boy. I see him, crystal clear, and I hear him say, 'Get 'em, Daddy. Every last single one of 'em, get 'em.' That's why I do what I do. That's why I see the same agony lurking in you. You know deep down you didn't do a thing to protect her, and it's going to gnaw at you relentlessly. It will keep eating, and eating, and eating at you. There's no escaping it, do you understand?"
"I couldn't do anything," Peter murmured, a heavy weight hanging in his voice as he tried to defend himself for the loss of Frankie. Deep down, he knew Frank was right, and the realization gnawed at him like a relentless ache. "She gave her life to save someone she loved... to stop a monster. She wouldn't want me to seek vengeance in her name. I let the system handle it. I let them punish him."
"Oh, for Christ's sake!" Frank burst out, his voice an eruption of frustration. "You and your Goddamn system. You and your Goddamn system! Christ! So what now? Every single day, Thawne—the very man responsible—shuffles off to the chow hall, eating his slop, breathing the same air as you. Does that make you feel good?"
"He got life!" Peter shot back, anger flaring in his chest.
Frank met his gaze with a profound sorrow, a heaviness in his expression that spoke volumes. "How 'bout littl' Frankie? She get life?"
"Frankie..." Peter's voice faltered, the name trembling on his lips as tears welled in his eyes. Suddenly, he halted to truly acknowledge her, to reflect on all she represented. "She was the... she was the kindest, purest soul I ever encountered. I believed that by adopting her, I was doing something good for her, but truthfully, she was the one who saved me. Every day, she pushed me to strive to be better, igniting a fire within me to improve—for her sake. To make this world safer so she wouldn't have to endure the same struggles I did. And yet, she chose to help others. She chose to protect a city that had only ever pushed her down. People like you and me can labor a lifetime and never measure up to her unwavering decency. She was the best of us, extinguished before she had the chance to truly shine."
He noticed Frank retreating into his thoughts, their shared grief palpable, the bond of loss echoing between them. "Goodbye, Frank. Good luck."
With those words hanging in the air, Peter turned, leaving Frank to his solitude, a heavy sigh escaping him as he sank back down into the weight of his sorrow. Peter then made his way across the room, calling upon the team to summon a breach that would carry him home.
