A Marvel Of Reality

(Author's Note: First of all, I would like to apologize for the delay. This chapter was supposed to come out on the previous Sunday but then I got caught up things and exams happened. Even then I could only complete half of the chapter, so I decided just post the first half, while the second half will take some time, hopefully before the next week is over. This is an interlude so no points are gained in this chapter.)

Mystique perched herself on the tall building overlooking the city, covered in shadows of the night. A soft breeze blew through to ruffle her hair, caress her cheek, and rustle the overcoat she was wearing. Her dark locks stuck to her face, her hazel-brown eyes peering down below and faraway. Even with such a divide, she could make out the shapes, figures of her target, as they danced skilfully to avoid their enemy.

Her disguise of a woman in her thirties found her looking every bit as nondescript as she sought. Her eyes, though, emulated the functionality of a hawk to spectate on the battle taking place. She watched as the enemy missed the opportunity, only for a shadow to strike the man and pummelled him into dirt.

A pleasant surprise, she concurred, yet her observations provided a reason to be cautious. The boy wasn't volatile by any means, cautious even, but his actions had shown her that he could act beyond what his capacity would otherwise dictate. The only thing she couldn't decide on was how she was to sway the boy to their cause.

As far as she could remember, fighting for the mutant race was all she had stood for. Her early days of life were no doubt the biggest mistakes. At that time she had been young, dumb, and a survivor. When the world outcasts you, you learn to survive using whatever means necessary.

That's why she had joined the Brotherhood of Mutants. Magneto understood her cause more than anyone, and in her opinion, was the only person who truly saw the world for what it was: a place where mutants were shunned and cast out by humanity.

Without understanding the difficulties your very nature garnered, it was hard to preach to someone on their doctrine. Much less say about the boy who had delusions of heroism.

Mystique could still remember those early days when she was just a thief. Her circumstances forcing her to survive using whatever means necessary. That seemed like a long time ago, and it really was, considering more than a century had passed since. That part of her life had defined her future for many years to come.

Compared to those early days, her time spent with Irene was the only meaningful part of her journey. Unlike when she was just chasing after a goal single-mindedly, that was when she truly lived.

Irene's abilities as a precognitive had changed their lives, setting the duo on the path that would have far-reaching implications. Some of these prophecies had been dreadful, and they had done everything to prevent those from ever taking effect.

It hadn't all been sunshine and rainbows, though. Even after spending their time in London, they had had to separate and seek their own roads. She understood the harshness of the reality, and when presented with a chance, she had done everything to ensure her own survival, even if it meant at the cost of someone else's life.

She was still not sure if that had been the right decision, but presented with a similar choice and circumstances, she would make the same choice. Because that's who she was: a survivor.

The battle seemed to arrived at its conclusion and she watched Moon Knight haul off the mutate alongside him. The hero who called himself Aevitas took to running away from the scene while his companion, another mutate, almost fled. Mystique frowned at that.

Although she hadn't seen much, her years of experience had contributed to developing a critical eye for judging others. And her experience told her the boy had excellent fighting skills, too good to be honest, almost bordering on unnatural. Yet at the same time, there seemed to be a disconnect, like skills without practical experience.

From what she had gathered these past two days, he was new to playing on the field. That would make his current lack of experience understandable.

Looking at him reminded her of her daughter. Another sore point of life. Anne had been blessing when she came into their lives, but looking at it now, she at least somewhat understood her reasoning.

Mystique recalled the day when Eric had called her over. He had somehow gotten the knowledge regarding the appearance of a new mutant. Eric had entrusted her with the task of assessing and recruiting the boy into the fold. Yet, looking at his current stake, she wasn't feeling particularly confident in swaying the boy to their cause.

Enhanced strength and reflexes were about what he showed outwardly. Then there was that fire ability, which basically granted him his mutant classification. The only saving grace in this entire assessment had been finding his association with the local heroes and contribution to the local gang exposition and subsequent arrest.

Normally, such a thing would put them both at odds. A hero aligning with a villain was by no means a far-fetched scenario, but that was under the right circumstances. Unless the world was coming to an end, she couldn't see Aevitas joining their band of 'evil' mutants. That is, she couldn't see until she chanced upon the exact cause of death for the two gang leaders.

Burnt to death, reduced to charcoal. Burnt. She snickered. What were the odds of finding two dead criminals alongside a new mutant with the power to burn things? Who also happened to be involved in the case? Who had a sufficient motive to carry out the 'justice'?

She remembered the digging she had done, honestly not much of a digging as asking for a favour from another mutant. In an age of information technology where your entire life could be summed up with 1's and 0's, it wasn't that difficult finding some surface-level information on her target.

Case in point, Aevitas turned out to be a guy who wasn't above resorting to cold-hearted measures. That was good for her; that was good for Brotherhood overall. But more than anything, that was not good for Xavier.

Thinking of that guy always filled Mystique with both rage and regret. So much potential, all wasted on a pointless dream of an ideal world where the humans and mutants could co-exist. It had never happened before; it wasn't going to happen in the future. She couldn't understand why Xavier refused to see the truth. On the other hand, he was responsible for her daughter leaving her, so anger was justified.

But that didn't matter. Charles could fight for that peaceful dream of his, while Eric would lead them to liberation. All they needed was to find the like-minded individuals to gather under their banners. Mutants could never be oppressed by humanity. After all, they were superior to them in every way.

She took another glance their way before turning to leave. While eager to pitch forth her offer, it wouldn't do well to be impatient. Not to mention that she still needed to report her findings back.

***

Mystique arrived at the place she had stayed at these past two days. Removing the coat and slinging it off onto the bed, she allowed her transformation to revert her back to normal.

Blue skin replaced human tone, her hair turning a shade of red, while her eyes yellow. This was the form she felt most comfortable in, her true nature. Another point against the peaceful co-existence of humanity and mutants. They couldn't bring themselves to accept a freak like her. Freaks like them.

Compared to many of her mutant brothers and sisters, though, her power particularly focused on disguising herself. On the surface it didn't sound as interesting as being able to throw fire blasts or generate ice. It certainly didn't look as cool as lifting stuff with your mind or reading someone's thoughts.

People would be dead wrong to assume that, though. Her power might not have given her reality-bending capabilities, but she was more than capable of turning this world on its head.

When people think of superpowers, they inevitably think of things like super strength, the ability to fly, or shooting lasers. They were no doubt powers that could put you in a different category from the masses. But when you had to deal with people themselves, her power was unquestionably practical.

Being able to alter her form into any humanoid creature meant she could shape-shift into any human being. This included adapting her musculoskeletal framework into whatever shape she desired. If that was all, she would've been a good shape-shifter, but her powers went further than that. She could duplicate another being's vocal cords, fingerprints, or retinal patterns. And that was the true art of disguise and what allowed her easy access to most of the places on the planet.

Most of the time, Mystique was naked; her clothes were actually her skin, given texture and made to look like clothes. And it was always liberating to adopt her true form.

As she took her seat on the chair right before the desk, she felt anticipation worm in her heart. Aevitas might not have shown much promise yet, but if he was able to raise Magneto's mutant alarms, then she could only speculate on his potential yet to properly surface.

She sure hoped for it. All this time, whenever the Brotherhood had come forth to serve justice and secure a place for mutants in this world, Charles had arrived with his X-Men to foil their plans. No matter what one said, it all came down to a lack of proper talent on their end.

Mystique recalled the red-haired figure with hair a shade lighter than hers. And those who stood beside her, like the one with the mohawk and another with glasses. Heading the lineup was a man from her past, whom she had betrayed and stabbed in the back. It was no wonder he hated her.

Shaking her head and ridding herself of those thoughts, she picked up her phone and dialled a number. It rang a few times before she heard the voice from the other end.

"Raven?"

"Hello, Eric." She said. "I hope I didn't disturb you; I actually called to talk about that guy you told me about."

"Have you made contact yet?" He asked.

"No." She replied. "Though I did do some digging. He was being careful, but not as careful as he thought he was. I managed to trace him to his safe house, and from there it was easy."

"And?" He probed.

"We have a high chance of recruiting him, but I wouldn't bet on it." She added.

That was true. His determination to see his task till the end was commendable, but that also suggested his personality was headstrong and mulish. A guy like that might be flexible in how he carried out his duty, but he would also be stubborn enough to finish it till the end.

The boy's dedication to his hero career might pose some problems, she thought. But if they managed to secure his loyalty, then it would grow their might and influence several-fold.

As she explained this to Eric, the man replied with his own insights to the argument. The two exchanged thoughts for a while and discussed the best way to manage this situation. One thing she liked about Eric was his confidence that even if the situation didn't turn into their favour, he would still fight for the sake of mutants. No wall could ever break Magneto.

"Proceed as discussed, and in case the negotiations fail, withdraw safely." He relayed. "I am sure Charles will be on his way soon; finish it before he arrives."

"I will make my move tonight; don't worry." After wrapping up their discussion, she hung up the call and threw her cell on the desk. Taking a moment to orient herself, she stood up and changed her form into a beautiful lady with long blonde hair and ocean blue eyes. A domino mask covered her features while a tight white and black suit took shape around her skin.

Deep down, she couldn't help feeling a thrill run through her. Even after living decades like this, being naked never wore off. A secret identity that only she was aware of.

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Charles turned around the corner, swivelling his wheelchair to proceed down the hallway. Soft light graced the corridor, bringing with it calm and serenity that he appreciated greatly. It was early in the morning, and more than half of the students were confined to their beds. Understandable, considering the toll the training seems to take on their weary young minds.

It pained him to put these children under such circumstances, but given the situation unfolding in the world, it made sense. Mutants shunned by humans wasn't everything the X-Men had to endure, though that was certainly the most frustrating one. He tried to help however he could, usually over a cup of tea with the listener actually paying attention.

Charles didn't believe in mindless violence. In his opinion, as long as you can resolve something peacefully, there is no need to resort to bloodshed. If only his dear friend could understand that.

Taking another turn put him that much closer to his destination. Sometimes he hated his crippled form and agonised over it repeatedly. Though he was thankful for having found such a supportive family to look after.

"What do you know about this new guy?" A voice sounded from behind him, belonging to a woman who was currently pushing his chair. Despite being able to handle the task himself, Charles found comfort in help others tried to provide.

"For the time being..." He spoke. "All we have is news. And it's quite concerning."

New York at large was a den of villains and heroes alike. From the likes of the Fantastic Four to the Avengers, they each had their origins related to this city. It wouldn't be wrong to say that most of the news companies got their expectant coverage in the form of burglaries to superhuman brawls. Even among them, though, Manhattan, particularly Harlem, held a special place. At least when it came to crime rates.

When Xavier had been alerted to the presence of a possible mutant, he had tried to scour the entire map to look for any hints. He had found none. The presence was too weak.

Then something happened, and he had felt the presence grow. It wasn't until he saw today's news that he felt the concern seed within him. After all, it wasn't normally that you saw two dead crime lords burnt to cinders.

Due to a variety of work that he had to finish all day, it was only now, when everyone had retired to their rooms, that he got the chance to properly check up on this new mutant. Possible mutant. He corrected, recalling the face of two young people.

"What will be our approach in case of a positive result?" The female voice asked.

Charles angled his head slightly to gaze at his helper's profile, her long white hair set into impossible curls and blue eyes containing an electric spark. Her chocolate brown skin wildly contrasted with her features, which were exquisite surely, but lacking conventional classification. If anything, it only added to her charm.

"That's the entire reason I built this school, Ororo." Charles replied. Honestly, he understood the true implications of her question, but he couldn't allow himself to continue in that direction. Some of the mutants they had found were in worse conditions, and his school was all about showing the right way.

Currently in the west wing of the mansion, the duo had arrived near the room, and with a thought, the door opened to reveal a chamber with a computer and a chair. This computer was quite advanced with its sleek design and futuristic appearance. The main attraction, though, was the helm situated on top of the raised podium.

Ororo pushed the wheelchair inside, and the door closed behind them. The room was bathed in soft lights from multiple servers hidden behind the walls. People usually saw Cerebro and thought it cool or astonishing. What they didn't realize was the complexity of work being done behind the walls that allowed the existence of this piece of tech.

Cerebro was ultimately a computer, a machine designed to enhance its wearer's mental capabilities, and since it only worked for telepaths, their telepathy was amplified. The main feature of the machine, though, was to allow for the wave to feed into itself, creating a feedback loop, which could ultimately be used for providing a blanket search all over the globe to detect mutant brain activity.

He could still remember his early days when he had first created the device. The fact that one of the associations related to its creation was currently pushing his wheelchair made him chuckle inwardly.

"If you would be a dear and help this old man." He gestured at the Cerebro while looking at Ororo.

"Of course, professor." She said moving forward to take hold of the helm. "And you're not that old to call yourself an old man."

Charles smiled and accepted the device on his bald head. The sung metallic texture always felt cold at first, though it brought promise of strength along, and that was always an intoxicating sensation.

As the helm fit, Cerebro started interfacing with his brain, bringing online all the needed servers. Lights lit along cords, starting dim and progressively growing stronger. Until Charles felt his thoughts swell, spill into the world. His telepathy amplified to absurd heights, and then he was everywhere.

Thousands of brains opened up to the mutant telepath, open and willing for his ministrations. He shoved past them, focusing on the specific wave that belonged to the mutants. If before he was sifting through trash trying to find a needle, now he had a magnet attached and would only pick metal. He focused further on a specific area where his mutant was supposed to be. Shoving aside any useless activity, he finally felt a slight connection form. It was weak but constantly growing. And that was what he used to anchor himself.

"Manhattan, East Harlem, East of Fifth Avenue." He mumbled with his eyes shut. Not satisfied with just the address, he peered deeper.

When Charles opened his eyes, a grim look flashed through them.

"I suppose we will be going to Manhattan?" Ororo asked.

"Yes." He nodded. "We need to move fast too. Before Magneto's cohort can stake their claim."

"Wasn't this Aevitas supposed to be a hero?" She couldn't help but ask. There would be no claim for Magneto to lay if he was unwelcome. But Charles was expressing concern that there was something she hadn't gotten the picture of.

"While true, I'm afraid things might be a bit different." He replied. "Our mutant was involved in a recent gang capture that resulted in the death of two people. Without jumping to conclusions, I cannot declare him the culprit, but should there be even a remote chance, it would present a weakness that Eric wouldn't hesitate to take advantage of."

It took Ororo a minute to understand the implications. The fact that there could be a mutant who was as cavalier with their powers would prove troubling at best and disastrous at worst.

"How strong is he?"

Charles took a moment to think before answering. "I'm not sure. There's something different about him. Nothing like I've ever felt before. Right now, he's quite weak, but I could feel his growth through our brief link."

When detecting brain waves of a mutant, Charles could telepathically connect with them. Though it would require the presence of another telepath on the other end to provide a proper communication channel. Without that, the best he could do was surface-level scans. Not even being able to tell what sort of mutation they suffered from.

"Let's go meet Logan." He suggested. "We need to discuss our path going forward."

Ororo didn't object to the professor's reasoning, sure that the short man would be drinking away his sorrows in some corner. She was certain that half the students were still awake and probably not even in their rooms, much less to say of the man who spent most of his time drunk rather than sober.

As expected, the duo found the man in the kitchen sulking, as usual. What they didn't expect was finding Jean leaning against the counter poking at her smartphone.

"Seems like everyone is already gathered here." Charles commented.

"Professor?" Jean stood straight as she saw the duo move in.

"Did something happen?" Logan asked. Even though he had not shifted from his languid posture, there was a presence of tension that the man lacked before. Like a coiled serpent ready to strike at a moment's notice.

"We might need to move out." The wheelchair-bound man announced. "We have confirmed the appearance of a new mutant."

"Oh!" Jean raised a brow. "Where?"

"Harlem," Ororo replied. "Professor says it might prove to be a bit of trouble."

"And why is that?" The gruff voice of Logan asked.

Charles smiled a little. Truth be told, every one of the mutants currently gathered at the school had brought their own share of troubles. Even Jean and Ororo had been the same. But that was not how they described the situation, ever. It was understandable when Jean shifted into more professional posture, adopting a serious look. The talk had shifted from idle curiosity to what may well become a call to arms.

"Nothing that drastic." He spoke, defusing the tension. "There's a chance the boy might be involved in some stuff, but it's just a possibility. We have yet to confirm anything."

"And you want to bring us with you?" Jean asked.

"Yes." He replied. "In fact, I want us to prepare for this seriously. There's a chance Magneto might've already sent his men ahead. In case of an altercation, I want every possible support."

Usually mutant recruitment was a far easier affair. When X-gene gets triggered and powers manifest, the chance of an accident happening is high. But once the mutant gets a handle on their powers, it either devolves into them trying it out for stupid stuff or heroic stupid stuff. In either case, Charles didn't find it particularly challenging to invite them to his school. No, the trouble started when the mutant in question was smart.

Give an average man powers, and he may find it a novel experience. Either he starts to use it for his own selfish benefits, in which case he gets ousted or lands himself in trouble, or he vies for a heroic profile, which is so commonly seen in America.

Give a smart man powers, and you don't see anything. That was the most frightening aspect of this whole business. Smart men didn't see the world of today and how it could benefit them; they saw the world of tomorrow and where they would stand in that world. And they worked toward perfecting that goal. With mutant powers.

If this new mutant hadn't gotten himself caught yet, then he was at least smart enough to cover his tracks. But his devotion to heroism put him in a bit of a conundrum. He honestly didn't know what to think of this guy. And if his enhanced intelligence was telling him anything, that was he needed to find this boy as soon as possible.

"Alright," Logan leaned forward, "When are we leaving?"

"At the earliest tomorrow morning." Charles replied. "I want all three of you to come with me. Although the likelihood of a fight breaking out is small, we will still be going to Harlem."

Logan nodded and put the glass bottle on the table. "I don't suppose we will be taking the Blackbird?" He asked.

"I'm afraid not." Charles confirmed. "A car will do just fine."

"If there's nothing else, I'm going to take a nap." Managing to sound it off as a grumble, Logan turned to leave. The rest watched as the man departed while growling something beneath his throat.

"What happened to him?" Ororo couldn't help but ask.

Jean shook her head. "Probably something about Laura. He seemed grumpier than usual."

"I wouldn't be sure about that." Ororo giggled.

"I should also go to my room now." Jean said. "Should I speak to Scott about tomorrow?"

Charles shook his head. "That would be unnecessary. We are not going too far."

"Alright then, goodnight, Professor." Jean waved. "Ororo."

"Goodnight." Ororo bid.

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Cindy slouched on the couch, watching the same footage play out for the umpteenth amount of time. She sighed and hit pause, leaning back to gaze at the ceiling. She felt tired. Despite spending her days doing little activity, she found herself getting more tired by the day. It was as if the fatigue built in on itself.

How many days had it been exactly? If this were a drama, she might've said something like, 'It's too long; I've forgotten to keep track of it.' Too bad it wasn't. No, Cindy remembered exactly how long she had spent in this hellhole. Six years, nine months, and twenty-six days. Sometimes she cursed her memory that made it hard to forget the awful days.

Really, those were the harshest. She would spend her days doing the same rote activity, and then suddenly she would remember it all. It was hard forgetting the faces of your loved ones when your memory was perfect. And that was what made it so painful.

She pulled herself off the lounge and made a beeline for the kitchen. This place was well-stocked, if anything. Somehow that made it more difficult to keep going down the rabbit hole of thoughts. And sometimes she wished things would have been different had she chosen to not listen.

Shaking off the memory, she bit back the creeping annoyance and found her way back to the couch. Taking a sip of the drink, she frowned at the taste. It wasn't bland per se, but over the years her taste buds had adapted to the flavor enough that she found it sickening.

Searching for the controller was easy enough, and she soon found herself on the 405th run of the only game she slightly enjoyed. It was getting close to the night, not that it mattered to her or anything, just that she would be pulling another all-nighter. Her mom would've protested at her routine, but she wasn't here.

Lately she hadn't been getting much sleep. For hours she would lay awake staring at the ceiling while thinking about nothing. Really, she had learnt to stop thinking and just keep her brain perceptive without processing any information. For hours she would just gaze at the objects and feel nothing. That felt like an accomplishment if you didn't consider the impact it was having on her mental health.

That was another sore point for her. Despite the size of this big-ass facility, it lacked in terms of the drug department. If only she could think about anything other than the world outside, she would gladly take it. But honestly, was there anything besides the world she was isolated from?

During the beginning of her sequestering, she found herself busy doing all manner of activity. Exercise to keep her body fit, going through the familiar motions of the fighting stance Ezekiel had taught her and watching the videos of Spiderman. The later she had found both enjoyable and annoying. A stinging reminder of what she could've been, yet fate had something else in store for her.

The only good thing to come out of this arrangement was her training. Looking at the footage of Spider-Man fighting made her understand just how far he was lacking behind. Compared to him, her ability to control the web was phenomenal. He might've had more field experience than her, but he lacked that natural grace she had worked into her moves over the course. She had everything he boasted and even more, but she lacked the promise of that life.

Really, she was just tired. Tired of eating the same food for days, months, and years. Tired of watching the same videos play on the TV, playing the same games, and doing the same activities. She was tired of the walls that enclosed around her, confining her, denying her that sweet freedom.

The initial excitement had bled out over the years, and now most of the activities she partook in were done just for the sake of it, rather than holding any meaning. She had no delusions of leaving this place. Not until she was cleared of his threat, but that was a tall order.

Other days she would find the courage to hold the knife above her wrist. Even as a superhuman, she risked death by bleeding out. The only thing was she couldn't bring herself to do it. And each time she would break down crying. Angry that she lacked the spirit, yet happy that there was still a hopeful part of her that hadn't died.

Clearing the level, she found herself rapidly advancing on the boss. Going through the familiar moves, she swiftly disposed of him and leaned back. Even the game was starting to feel insipid.

Pushing the controller aside, she stood and made her way over to the rack of videotapes. There were dozens stacked like books, courtesy of the owner of this place. She picked one and strode over to the old DVD player. Sliding the disc inside, she hit play.

Cindy took her position back on the couch and watched the red-costumed hero fight his green adversary. The fight was thrilling, and every time it seemed the Green Goblin was going to win, Spiderman somehow turned the odds around. At last the fight ended in the hero's favour, and she leaned back with a faint smile on her face.

This was the only thing she didn't find exhausting. Knowing there was a hero who was helping people out there. Not that this country lacked in that department, but Spiderman she could relate to. More than anything, though, there was a faint spark of hope that the hero would somehow find a way to rescue her.

At times Cindy found a dark urge creep within her. The urge to just punch through the walls and storm out of this place. It wasn't like there was anything keeping her locked in the tower, besides her own inhibitions. The only other thing was the fear for her loved ones. If a terrible being like Morlun descended on this world, how much destruction will he wrought? How many will die? And it will be all because of her.

She couldn't bring herself to do that. Yet, at times she hated herself for it. She felt terrible knowing she was making cowardly excuses when the truth was she was just scared. Cindy Moon was just a normal girl who ended up with abnormal powers. It didn't change the fact that at heart she was just a young girl when the world was suddenly flipped on her.

When Ezekiel had brought her to this place, the man had trained her personally. It had been an exhilarating experience, and she had never forgotten the moment. That feeling of weightlessness, the force of your moves, and feeling the world as it slowed down around you. It made her feel powerful. Hopeful. But then everything had come crashing down.

She wasn't going to be a hero, fighting against the evils of this world and protecting innocents. No, she was just a damsel that needed saving and now had to spend her days locked away inside a tower like a Disney princess waiting for her prince charming.

Cindy hated that. Even with all that strength at her disposal, she was reduced to this weak-minded shell of the girl she once used to be.

Sleep didn't come to her that night. Instead she lay wide awake, gazing at the floor, all the while curled in on herself. Then the next day started, and like every other day, nothing truly mattered. That is until she heard the crash and thump.

Her eyes wide, she jumped to her feet. For the first time in years, Cindy had heard a sound that didn't belong to her, that came out of the place she was forced to call home.

As her feet took her to the door, past the wreckage of the door, a contingency built by the man who called himself her savior. Cindy closed the last few steps and arrived near the door that led to her salvation. For years she had tried different combinations of the password and was sure she was getting closer but never had the chance. That didn't matter, though; nothing did. Because someone was standing right outside.

She put a finger on the microphone to activate it and spoke hesitantly. "Hello, is anyone there?"

For a brief moment, no reply came. Doubt sprang up within her. Was she hearing things? Was there no one outside? But then how would you explain the blaring alarms? She called out again, "Hello?"

"Hey, are you there inside?" A voice answered. A male judging by the tone.

"Yes." She replied. "Who are you? And how did you get here?"

As far as she remembered, the tower was shut down and certainly not expecting anyone. Ezekiel ought to have considered emergency scenarios like this. To keep anyone from wandering inside. So how did this guy arrive all the way here?

"Me?" The voice paused. "You can call me Aevitas for now. Are you alone?"

He hadn't answered her question. More like he didn't want to answer her for whatever reason. As for his question, there wasn't much reason she needed to hide her status from anyone. It would hardly change anything.

"Yeah." She replied. Then considering for a second, she asked, "Are you here for me?"

She tried to keep the hopeful edge out of her tone, but she was sure the speaker would do the work for her. Surely the guy wouldn't pick on her inner desperation even if she knew the end result.

"I—uh..." The voice hesitated. "Actually, I stumbled upon this place incidentally. What should I call you?"

"Oh." Disappointment welled up within her, and she slumped slightly. Without any reasoning, she replied, "Ci—I mean Silk; you can call me Silk." She heaved a sigh at the almost slip-up. Although she had come up with the name more than a year ago, being confined to this place barred her from introducing her superhero identity. When asked, she had almost slipped into her old habit and answered as she usually would. Thankfully, her reaction time was as phenomenal as her web-spinning.

For some time no reply came, and when Cindy felt that something was wrong, she leaned into the microphone and called out. "Hello? Are you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here." The reply came abruptly, prompting her to think whether the guy was contemplating something. About her name? Was he trying to find any connections to a hero named Silk? Suspicious. "So, Silk, why are you here?" The guy asked.

She considered for a moment. Besides her and Ezekiel, she doubted anyone else understood her true circumstances. Sometimes she did wonder what it would be like to find a good listener and take the heavy load off the chest. Besides, it wasn't like him knowing would change anything.

"It's a long story." She explained. "But the crux of the matter is, I have to remain here or everyone will be in danger." That was the truth, and she continued. "That aside, there should've been some security installments in this facility. How did you get past those? Not to mention your name, are you a hero?"

Cindy didn't know the outcome to the otherwise. For a villain to be this cavalier would pose a problem indeed. Though even for a hero, to not respect boundaries was a legitimate concern. She considered what would happen if the guy decided to proceed with his original intentions, which, now that she thought about it, weren't made apparent.

"Yeah, you can say that." Came the reply. "As for the security, it wasn't much."

Not much? She tilted her head. Sims Tower might not be a fortress, but it was every bit a containment facility meant to secure a mutate like her. She who could rip out doors like paper, punch walls into dust and stone, and leap across buildings with a gap of more than 200 feet. And it wasn't much?

"Wow." She voiced. "All this time, I never thought someone would come here. It's too bad we can't meet."

That was the harshness of the reality. No matter how much she harboured the hope deep inside her. No matter how much she wished for a better tomorrow. The day would never come with her in the picture. Not with that monster out there.

"Listen, Silk." The guy spoke with a heavy tone. "I know this place was designed as a containment facility of some sort, probably to keep you locked up. But whatever it is you're running from, closing your eyes won't make it go away. You have to confront your demons, fight them, and overcome them. Hiding isn't the way."

Easier for someone on the other side of the wall to say. The safe side. While she had to endure this prison. It was what she had expected, though she couldn't help feeling a little disappointed.

"You don't understand." She replied, closing her eyes wistfully. "The one after me is a horrible monster, and there's nothing we can do but hide. At least this way people are safe."

"I don't understand. Is it that you fear this so-called monster and hid away here, or is it that you care about others and chose to run away?"

What? He had no right to speak that way to her. Sure, she wasn't jumping around in spandex and saving grandmas from getting run over. No doubt, Silk wasn't catching mob bosses and trying to make the world a better place. But she was a hero, and she was trying to protect the world in her own way. No one had the right to judge her sacrifices as means for running away. Because she wasn't! She really wasn't!

"I protected them!" Cindy cried. "I—I did exactly as I was told."

That was right. What she had done was heroic. By not leaving this place, she was effectively saving everyone from a terrible fate. Her knees felt weak as she slumped against the door, cradling her head and trying not to whimper.

"Listen, I didn't mean to say that." Like that mattered now. "Alright, how about this: I will help you get out, and we can face this monster together. Let me make it clear: I am a pretty powerful guy."

What?

"NO!" Cindy shot straight, panic lacing her tone. "You can't open the door. If you do, he will know. And then he will come for me. Just leave, alright."

She cannot allow him to do that. He had no idea what she was up against. It was better for him to leave. She had spent years locked up in this place; what did it matter if she spent a few more? But under no circumstances could she allow him to break her out. Ezekiel had trusted her, and if not for herself, then at least for her family.

"Did you even hear what I said? This isn't the way to make your problems go away. I don't know who advised you to lock yourself here, but that person must be an idiot. You can never know if something is impossible if you've never tried it."

Even if what he said was right, it mattered not. Her fate was decided, and no one could change that.

"It doesn't matter. There's nothing you can do."

Or anyone for that matter. Morlun was a terrible being, and denying him his sustenance had probably already turned him bitter. Any invitation now would be seen as a provocation and met with brutal retaliation. She didn't want to shoulder that kind of burden.

"Huh?" A disappointed sigh sounded. "You know what? You're right. Maybe you really can't fight this guy. But you know why I think so, not because you're weak, but because you seem like the type of person who won't even try. I know I don't have any right to say this, but I hate cowards."

Coward.

That word stung more than long years of confinement. A deep-seated resentment welling up within her, directed at no one but herself. The question that had kept her awake for long nights. Was she a coward?

She recalled the life spent in this place that she was forced to call home. Her memories of the training with Ezekiel were clear as if having taken place a day ago. But she also remembered the days that followed. At times she would spend hours thinking about what she could've done if outside, and more than longing, it would fill her with bitterness.

Cindy Moon was the Silk. She was a spider-mutate with powers that many could only dream of possessing. To defeat her would require herculean strength, and to keep her restrained would demand durability more than a mere inches-thick wall could provide. So the question was: Was she really locked up in this tower?

The answer to that question was what hurt her the most. Coward. She prided herself on having sacrificed her life to save others. Those she knew and those who were strangers. But was that really true? Or was she just running away from the inevitable, hoping to never face the difficulty? Was she just a coward?

"Being a hero is never about yourself." Ezekiel had once said. "It's about others and what you can do for them."

She smiled as she looked back on the memory. No. She was not a coward. All this time it had been for others, but this time Cindy would do it for herself. After all, she was a hero, and heroes helped people. Even if those people included herself.

"I'm not a coward." She voiced feeling a weight lift off her chest. Long-buried hope floating to the surface.

"Show me." The voice spoke aloud. "Tell you what, if you leave this modern cave with me, I will tell you my name. How about that?"

She stifled a laugh at that. That was a poor bargaining chip, but she could appreciate the effort. "Um." She turned to stare at the keypad. "Actually, I don't know the password."

Maybe she would have to brute force her way out. Not like this door could truly hold if she was determined. Punching her way out sounded heroic. Maybe she could impress the guy on the other side.

"Alright, you might want to take a step back for this. Things are about to get hot in here."

Wait, she hadn't even gotten into ready stance yet. Then she felt the heat, and instincts took over. Suddenly Cindy was standing a couple meters away. The guy seemed to be waiting for the go-ahead, so she signaled and waited and watched as a bright red dot formed on the door. It expanded to accommodate a large patch, growing hotter still. Then the metal melted. It was weirdly satisfying to watch the door that barred her from freedom being reduced to a molten puddle.

Worry started to creep up, but she squashed the feeling down, focusing on the person responsible for her salvation. Just like she had expected, he wore a costume in all black with white highlights. She was sure she had never seen him before, well, never seen this costume before. Then she saw his face covered by a domino mask with glasses covering his eyes, and somehow this basic setup complemented to give him an iconic look. It was expertly worn and styled, though she couldn't be sure whether on purpose, especially considering his mop of unruly hair that seemed to have seen barely any grooming in a long time.

"You might want to wait for a bit before it cools down." He held up a hand pointing at the glowing hot metal.

Cindy spared a fleeting glance at the scene and gave him a grin. She hadn't had much chance to show off her true skills, but now that there was finally someone who could appreciate her art, she wasn't going to shy away.

Her muscles pulled taut, she angled slightly and jumped over and through the lava-wrought corridor and the door. Landing on the other side, she took a deep breath, spreading her arms in a mock feeling of freedom.

"Wow, it feels so good to be free."

"So, what changed your mind?" The guy asked. Now that he was speaking so close to her, she could read his body language, and while he seemed surprised, it was by no means unpleasant.

She smiled. "The truth is, I was already tired of spending my time confined to these four walls. And you're right; if I want Morlun gone, then I have to confront him. I can't live my life hiding forever."

Not to mention the food. She hadn't had anything spicy in like years. If not for anything else, she had to at least save her taste buds before they rotted away.

"Morlun?" He asked with a raised brow.

He seems to have no idea who that was. She didn't know whether to feel glad at having done an excellent job or chide herself for wasting all those years. She sighed inwardly and explained. "The guy that I told you about. He should've already sensed me by now. I have to begin my preparations." Then remembering she had been talking without any mask on, she paused. Well, since he had already seen her face, it didn't matter to keep to the stereotype. She shrugged and introduced herself."Oh, and my name is Cindy, by the way."

"That's good." He nodded. "And I can't say my name here; there are too many cameras."

"That's not a problem at all." She grinned. "Let's get out of here."

As she shot through the hallway, she felt excitement grow within her. She was finally free. Free from everything that burdened her and not just the material walls. And nothing was going to keep her from leaving this place. Not even the scary sci-fi metal doors.

With a punch she tore off the door and landed straight on the roof. "I am free!" She shouted to the world and to herself. Feeling the warmth wash over her, she smiled. "I never thought I would miss the sun so much."

"How long have you been there, exactly?" He asked.

"Months." She shrugged. The last thing she wanted was to have someone worry about her mental health. Nothing drastic had happened and she was of sound mind and body. "Thanks for helping me out there."

He nodded and removed his glasses, giving Cindy a view of his icy blue eyes. At last she could understand the sirens her spider sense was giving her. The hero before her had that unique feel that she only felt from animals. His came off as mixed, though he likely had some form of animalistic genes in him.

"I knew it!" She exclaimed. "You're not human. At least not fully."

He paused in his tracks, clearly taken by surprise. "How did you know?"

"So, I was right." She grinned. "Well, it was my senses behaving weirdly before you. And then I saw your eyes, and it sort of clicked."

It was more complicated than that, but she didn't have to detail that part.

"What are your powers anyway?" She saw a curious gleam in his eyes, no doubt the reason being her earlier behaviour.

Yeah, she really was free. This was not a dream, and the guy before her was not some conjured construct. Although if it was, it would be the first time. She smiled slightly and started chattering. Certainly not because she was trying to distract herself from the growing sense of unease. No, that could be dealt with later; for now, she would savour this moment while it lasted.

After all, she had learnt to never take anything for granted. The guy called himself a hero, and she could at least hold an honest conversation with him in exchange for pushing her to see through her problems. Everything else could be dealt with later. Morlun, Spider-Man, and the world. In this instance, only Cindy Moon lived.