Wee-oo! Wee-oo! Wee-oo! Wee-oo! Wee-oo! Wee-oo!
Police sirens rang from two blocks away.
From the top of a worn cathedral spire three blocks away, Spider-Man watched the flashing lights converge on the Maggia villa like vultures drawn to fresh blood.
Dozens of armored vehicles flooded the marble gates, unmarked SUVs mixed with official Milan police cruisers. Tactical teams moved with precision—CIA suits flanked by Interpol for cover, barking orders in multiple languages, weapons raised, comms buzzing in their ears. The villa's guards were face-down, zip-tied or bleeding.
Felix didn't need Detective Mode to tell him what the scene looked like. He'd painted it himself.
Inside the war room, Killmonger was found short-circuited, still twitching slightly from the residual voltage. Hammerhead lay slumped over the conference table with a broken neck. No bruising on the hands, no signs of strangulation—just the clean kind of trauma one gets from an enraged operative twisting too hard and too fast. A two-way kill, one happening at the same time as the other.
Herbie helped time noise for the patrolling guards and set up subtle environmental indicators—knocked-over chairs, fractured glass, a small scorch mark from an EMP spike Spider-Man had placed in the floor to confuse forensics.
The whole scene screamed: deal gone bad, two monsters turn on each other, authorities get lucky.
It was clean. Elegant.
Spider-Man had passed through and no one would ever know. Nobody would know the Heart-shaped Herbs disappeared too.
The singular purple fruit was in his hand now, glowing and beating ever so slightly. The local authorities, hell, even the Italian Intelligence Agency probably had no clue what this was. So he kept it. He had to.
'Two of the fruits ended up killing their best men in two different generations. Bast must have deemed them unworthy. So now, it's pretty much an emergency bartering tool in case they need to flee Italy. Only the heads like Hammerhead even know about it, and even then, as the generations went by, they cared less and less for it.'
There was one strange thing. If the testimony of the previous head of the Maggia was accurate, then there should have been two fruits, not one. Hammerhead did not ever mention taking the fruit. Yet below the villa, behind the vault where they kept their gold and silver and most precious items, there was only one fruit.
Strange. Really strange. Did Hammerhead do something with it? If he did, why not record it like he did everything else? The Maggia were educated people who prioritized family, culture, and passing down that knowledge.
So did Hammerhead forgo his own culture?
'Or did someone take one of the Heart-shaped Herbs?'
The police sirens were ravaging the villa now. Time to go.
The moon hung low over the ornate rooftops of Milan. Spider-Man jumped and leapt and swung while invisible and with one usable hand. He didn't want to consider the possible repercussions of mixing a divine fruit with alien goo. One hand was enough to swing and climb though. Four fingers clung to the glass of Hotel La Rocca, a sleek five-star hotel.
Fifth floor. Corner suite. Herbie highlighted the room.
A living room with a huge television screen, two beds, a kitchen, and small space for playing table tennis. The hotel was expensive and Sue Storm was curled on the couch of the living room in a sleep shirt, a bowl of untouched gelato melting on the table next to her. Half of her was paying attention to the movie on the screen while the other half was on a tablet, texting with Yuri Watanabe, Felix's primary butler and Sue's teacher.
The window creaked softly as Spider-Man crawled through it upside down and silently dropped down. Sue Storm didn't notice whatsoever. His suit dissolved into his skin, leaving him in a black T-shirt and tactical sweats. First thing he did was put the purple fruit in the drawer.
'Not like I have anywhere else to put it.'
He then sat on the bed, cracked open a small pill container on the side table, and downed two glowing blue tablets.
That was when Sue noticed.
"Oh, you're back, Master!"
The whole 'master' was a tad much in his opinion.
"Sorry, sorry. Force of habit."
The lights dimmed automatically as Herbie synced with the room's smart system. Felix lay down on the bed and closed his eyes.
"Going to sleep?" Sue asked, arms on the couch. "Want me to order something for when you wake?"
With his powers growing by the day and Extremis adapting and eliminating 'weaknesses', +sleep was becoming harder and harder to come by. Even Emma Frost was unable to rewire his mind. Felix WANTED to sleep though. These pills let him go for a two hour long nap.
The rhythm of the world dulled. Not shut off—he could still hear every honk, whisper, and footstep within two blocks—but it softened, blurred around the edges.
Tonight, he'd earned two hours.
***
The Devil. The Devil.
When Felix woke up, the first thing he did was sit up and do some investigating. For him, the concept of sleepiness no longer existed. Holograms appeared in his vision, formulated through the Advances Lens and his cornea.
Sue was no longer here. Probably out getting food.
Hmmm…
"This is a first. No suspects whatsoever. Even Master Control can't help me here." Felix put a fist to his cheek. "Must be because it's a name shared among Cindy Moon and Matt Murdock."
What worried him was the fact that Bruce Banner's background and powers were explained in detail yet 'the Devil' was scratched out. Was this a sign that there was something even more dangerous waiting for him?
The air before him bloomed with flickering holographic projections—invisible to anyone else. Dozens of layered panels, maps, classified data packets, network traces, supply manifestos, facial reconstructions. If investigating the Devil was fruitless, then he should move on to the seeds he had already planted.
The Maggia black market transactions were already uploaded. He filtered through them quickly, tracking the movement of shipments. He did some synchronization and assessments. He wanted every possible connection that the Maggia had with the Emporium. Felix was searching for a crossover in order to figure out the Emporium's leader.
"Nothing. It really is like the Emporium came out of nowhere."
Herbie did have something for him, fortunately:
"UPDATE ON KNOWN EMPORIUM SHELL COMPANY! UPDATE ON KNOWN EMPORIUM SHELL COMPANY!"
Shell companies were how any big illegal company functioned without facing consequences. After some deep investigating, Herbie was able to locate one after realizing that their shipments aligned perfectly with the Emporium Auction House.
Again, he was already aware of where the Emporium Auction House was. The question was who was running it and how they actually ran everything. If Spider-Man beat the shit out of every rich person involved, they would simply lawyer up and pretend they were kidnapped or coerced or whatever. The trial would go on for ages. No jail time, no real punishment. That was reality.
Hard, undeniable evidence was the law of the world. This time, it seemed fortune was smiling on him.
The Master Control's satellite logs confirmed a match between a redirected cargo freighter and a known Emporium shell company.
'Two weeks ago. Algiers to Delhi. Unregistered.'
Traced to a burner network operating out of—
Bzzt. Bzzt.
The holograms paused.
Incoming Call: MOM
Mom. Not an acronym or anything, his actual mother.
"Are you serious?" Felix massaged his forehead. "…Answer."
The holograms faded. His mother's voice came through, soft and familiar, like warm tea poured into cold silence.
"Felix? Oh, sweetheart, you picked up."
He leaned back in the bed. "Hey, Ma. Yeah. Sorry—it's been a week."
"I know you're busy. I didn't mean to bother. It's just… it's been quiet here. You know how your father gets when he's brooding. I thought I'd check in."
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "He's still not sleeping?"
"No," she said with a tired laugh. "But he's finally stopped pacing around the lobby like he's a manager of something again. Progress, right?"
Felix didn't respond. He could hear her smile over the phone. Hear the way she softened things that didn't need softening.
"He…hasn't asked for you," his mom added gently. "But you could visit. You don't have to stay long."
"I'll think about it," Felix said, automatically. "I'm just… busy."
"I know," his mom replied, and God, she meant it. "Even though back then, I didn't think you'd be. Always cooped up in your room."
"Uh-huh."
"I moved your books, by the way," she continued. "The ones you asked me to save. They're in the new place's library room. It's small, but nice. Sunlight in the morning."
"Thanks," he said quietly.
"You know…he was always proud of you. He just didn't know how to say it."
Felix stared blankly at the dark ceiling. 'He knew how to say everything else.' But he didn't argue. He didn't want to hurt her with what they both already knew.
"How's the new place treating you?" he asked.
"Oh, it's lovely. Clean. Peaceful. They even let me bring the garden lamp from the old porch. Remember that one?"
He smiled faintly. "Yeah. The one that shorted out every summer."
"I fixed it." There was a quiet hum and she added quietly, "I won't keep you, sweetheart. Just… try to sleep more. Even my favourite genius needs rest."
"Who said I need to sleep more?"
"A mother knows."
He chuckled. He relaxed. "I will. Love you, Ma."
"Love you too, Felix. Always."
The call ended.
Felix stared at the blank space where the holograms had been. One by one, he blinked them back into existence.
"Hello~"
The voice was light, teasing. Sue Storm leaned against the doorway, one finger twirling in the air, hips cocked at just the right angle.
Felix looked up from the floating holograms in front of him.
Sue was stunning. Hair brushed back into a flowing, effortless wave. Tight black jeans that did more than compliment her figure, and a cropped, sleeveless white top that hinted at muscle tone and softness all in one glance. Her makeup was subtle, flawless—her look that perfect fusion of high fashion and girl next door. It was the kind of beauty that didn't have to try but clearly did, just a little, just enough to leave people staring.
Sue spun slowly, arms out. "How do I look?"
"Great." He flashed a smile. "Going out?"
"Want to come? It'll be fun!"
This Sue Storm was different. Unburned by being an orphan or possessing superpowers, she looked, acted, and sounded like an ordinary woman in her twenties. She was aware that she was some sort of famous person with superpowers but couldn't remember any of it. So, she stopped trying. Frankly, in some ways, she didn't believe it. If she didn't believe she had powers, then she didn't have them. That was the nature of her current situation.
Sue Storm was powerless and under his bidding.
"I'm busy."
"Aw, okay. Next time then?"
"Next time."
Sue waved a few fingers and turned. The door slid shut behind her with a soft click.
Shhhk—chik.
The moment the door locked, the Superior Spider-Man suit rippled over Felix's body from beneath his skin. The symbiote snapped into place, red energy lines tracing his chest, his arms, his face. The lenses of his mask lit up with stark white focus.
"MASTER CONTROL SATELLITE CONFIRMS THE FREIGHTER'S IDENTITY. REDIRECTED CARGO SHIP REGISTERED AS PRIVATE CARRIER, FLAGGED UNDER MULTIPLE SHELL COMPANIES. FINAL TRANSIT: ALGIERS TO DELHI. TIMELINE: TWO WEEKS AGO. CURRENT LOCATION: TYRRHENIAN SEA."
Spider-Man nodded and leapt out of bed.
***
Felix stood atop a reinforced radio tower near the Italian coast, the cold sea wind whipping at his suit. His legs flexed. Arms back.
He launched a webline—thwip—thwip—thwip—thwip—attaching to four staggered anchor points.
He reeled back, back, back.
Further back until the webs strained, a slingshot pulled beyond safe limits.
Twing!
Release.
He shot forward like a missile, cracking through the air with a sonic boom. His web-wings deployed. Bursts of electric propulsion surged from his boots and back, allowing him to break Mach 5 cleanly.
The world blurred.
He crossed the Tyrrhenian Sea in minutes—whitecaps flashing beneath him, ships blurred specs on the water. He dialed back his momentum, the suit regulating his descent.
Ahead, spotted by satellite and tracked by Herbie's uplink, was the freighter. Massive, gray, and ugly if a ship could be called that. It crawled toward southern Europe like a floating shadow, oblivious to the storm about to land on it.
Spidey slowed mid-air, twisted, and caught an upper crane beam with a silent thwip. He rolled along the steel, let his cloak shimmer into active camouflage, and became nothing.
Guards? Present, armed, and—oh, lookie. Thermal vision goggles. 'Rash?'
'Alreadyyyy adjusted your temperatureee.'
'Herbie, can you confirm?'
'CONFIRMED.'
'Look at you two, working together. Good job.'
'WE PRIORITIZE YOUR WELL-BEING ABOVE ALL ELSE, AS PROGRAMMED WITHIN THE SUIT.'
'Yesss. On that, we very much agree.'
Cloaked physically and Spider-Man slipped past them without a sound, weaving through crates and freight containers. Each was labeled with generic cargo markings—but the thermal scanners told a different story. Layers of cooling foam. Radiation suppression.
He opened a crate.
'Look at that. A crate hiding another crate.'
The second crate was harder to open. Tight with screws and without a lid to casually open. Felix had to use his super strength and tug it open.
'There.'
A fancy, human-sized incubator hosting human-sized scales. Massive and shimmering, they were black-green with iridescent veins. They required a set temperature to remain fresh and were highly dangerous.
His Spider-Sense went off. Old, horrible memories hit him.
'Creature Z.'
A well of rage hit him too. All that effort he put into defeating the literal god of destruction and humanity decided to use it for money. Typical. His rage only faded after remembering that there were good people. People in SHIELD constantly making sure this thing wouldn't come back again.
Oh, yes, there were secretly many worlds that wanted to bring that thing down safely to extract its organs and understand it. Director Carter made sure none of it came to fruition.
Each piece of Creature Z was marked, cataloged. This wasn't raw loot—this was industrialized. His jaw tightened. 'Just how much is there possibly to sell?'
Litres of the lizard's blood. Hundreds of scales from when Spider-Man struck him with those giant tendrils. Holding back wasn't an option.
Spider-Man clicked his tongue and tapped at his belt. The Symbiote pushed forth a belt which flicked spider-bots into his palm, each the size of a fingernail and shaped like actual arachnids. He placed one carefully on the underside of the crate's inner wall. Then another. And another.
Each bot was coded to bypass metal detectors, thermal sweeps, and micro-magnetic resonance scans. Each was linked directly to Herbie.
One on every box. It took a minute of flipping and dashing and carefully placing.
'Why can't I just throoow them?'
'Rash, these things are sensitive. There's a reason I told you to keep them in my kidney. Keep them safe and in a stable environment.'
'Fiiine.'
The last spider-bot was put forward.
It was time to leave. He jumped, he soared. Nobody noticed Spider-Man leaving.
***
Fifth floor, corner suite. Two beds, a living room, and the works. Comfort, luxury, and anonymous.
Felix hit the hotel bed. "Phew." He was smiling and brought several boxes of pizza with him. Go to Italy, go for the pizza as they say. He had pizza capricciosa, pizza Margherita, pizza quattro formaggi, pizza marinara, and bufala pizza.
"Mm, Italians really know how to make their pizza! And I thought New York pizza was good."
He ate through the boxes. His body was 98% self-reliant and probably didn't need the food. But goddamn did it taste good. No way was he ever going to pass up on the chance of good pizza. At the same time, his Advanced Lens kept satellite tracking of the Spider-Bots.
After hours and hours, the freighter did it. It traversed the Tyrrhenian Sea and into the capital of the North African country Tunisia. The Port of Radès was the largest port in the capital. The freightner was neither out of place nor lacked the documents. The Tunisians received them with open arms.
From the perspective of the Spider-Bots, the crates shook as they were being opened.
"Activate thermal vision."
The Tunisians were the ones the Spider-Bots were faced with, not that they knew. A white device came into view. A scanner that was twice as length as a hand and half as wide.
"Lookie there. The crates are being scanned by a Tunisian in case they were tempered with." The Spider-Bots could feel it. They hid as instructed. "So you're the guy I've been tracking. Herbie, can you run a facial scan on him?"
Satellites were phenomenal, yes. Commercial satellites offered resolutions of 30 cm (about 1 foot) per pixel, meaning they could clearly capture things like vehicles, blurry people, crop types, and small infrastructure details. Military and classified satellites (e.g., those used by Herbie and Felix) could achieve between 5–10 cm resolution, which could potentially read a license plate or identify weapons on a rooftop.
The trucks were going to go directly to a privately owned jet hanger. That much he was aware of via the satellites at his disposal. Satellites could penetrate clouds via SAR (Synthetic Aperture Radar), use infrared, thermal, and hyperspectral imaging on certain altitudes.
Yet all that could be stopped by a guy wearing a hat. By sneaking in and out of restaurants in different clothing. By mingling with other body signatures. By acting as a top-tier spy.
In every country that the Emporium operated, high-level spies ran this operation. No mistakes were afforded.
'FACE NOT IDENTIFIED IN ANY DATABASE.'
'A mysterrry then!'
"Hm. Either plastic surgery, from a country that doesn't do facial scans, or wiped away their data."
From one crate to the other, the Tunisian spy went. Scanning and scanning with that white device.
"The Auction Master is a paranoid bastard. Must be putting these anonymous spies on a high payroll. But how?" Felix asked while biting on a pizza and eyeing the dozens of Spider-Bot cameras. The quality wasn't super high; think of it being in 480p. "Auction Master, you never inspect the goods yourself. Can that really be true? Do you really trust your goons to do everything? What if there's a betrayal? There has to be a secret."
The truck was driving off from the port. Next stop: to the jet hanger.
"Next stop: Delhi, India—except they're going to be dividing up the crates into two separate planes."
Each plane was going to land in Delhi, India in two different private jet hangars at opposing sides of the city. Two trucks were assigned to each plane, which would then finally drive off to the Emporium Auction House.
The address: 1, CBD, Maharaja Surajmal Marg, near YAMUNA SPORTS COMPLEX, Vishwas Nagar Extension, Vishwas Nagar, Shahdara, Delhi, 110032, India. The Auction House was officially a hotel called the Fortunov Hotel. The hotel itself was founded as a sign of partnership between India and Lateveria. Initially a location for European delegates, somewhere down its history, it became the host to the Emporium Auction House. It was near the center of the city.
None of that mattered to Felix.
"Where are you, Auction Master…?"
Felix took a bite of pizza and waited. His eyes were never unglued.
Three hours passed.
"I'm back!"
Sue returned to their hotel, shopping dangling from her shoulders, wrists, and fingers.
"Still awake, master? What's got you so busy?"
Felix's eyes didn't flick over. "Work stuff."
"You own lots of work," Sue teased. She dropped her bags. "Would you like me to help, master?"
He trusted Sue with his powers only because Emma planted a memory trap inside her brain. According to Emma, her mind was too fractured to be repaired by her. Plus, in general, Emma specialized in mind reading, not mind repairing. So, as a contingency, the moment Sue regained her memories, she would forget all about Felix being Spider-Man and all of this.
Without her memories though…
"Ahhh, but I'm dead tired. If you have a task, master, can you relegate it to tomorrow?"
Sue was kind and obedient, the perfect maid. It was a strange dichotomy from the woman that once tried to kill him.
"Go to sleep," he said. "I'll be working through the night?"
"Do you at least want me to fetch some sleeping pills? You'll need them sooner or later."
"No, I'm fine."
Because tonight, he wasn't going to sleep.