A Rider Kick in Marvel Rewrite

In a dimly lit warehouse on the outskirts of New York City, four men huddled around a makeshift table covered with blueprints and schematics of First National Bank. The room smelled of stale cigarette smoke and motor oil.

Rick, a burly man with a neck tattoo, spread out the bank's floor plans. His fingers traced the security camera locations and vault positioning. "We hit the east entrance. Carlos will handle the security system."

Carlos, thin and wiry, nodded. He pulled out a laptop and began showing intricate diagrams of the bank's electronic security grid. "I can loop the cameras in less than three minutes. Total blackout."

Another man, Marcos, checked the contents of a duffel bag. Military-grade explosives gleamed under the single hanging lightbulb. Plastic explosives, detonators, and several high-powered rifles were carefully arranged.

"Semtex charges," Marcos said, holding up a brick of explosive. "Enough to blow through the vault door in seconds. No alarms, no mess."

The fourth man, a veteran named Johnson, studied the blueprints with a critical eye. He wore a worn leather jacket and had the weathered look of someone who'd done this kind of job before.

"Timing is everything," Johnson muttered. "We've got a seventeen-minute window between shift changes. Any longer, and we risk patrol units."

Rick slammed his hand on the table. "We're hitting First National at 10:17 AM tomorrow. Bank opens, guards are fresh, cameras are cycling. We're in and out before anyone knows what happened."

The men continued their meticulous planning, unaware of the potential dangers that lurked just beyond their hidden warehouse.

The warehouse door creaked open. Ivae stepped inside, his nervous energy filling the space. "Sorry for intruding," he mumbled.

The four criminals froze, hands instinctively reaching for weapons. Rick's hand moved toward a pistol tucked into his waistband.

Ivae's compound eyes shifted, reflecting multiple angles of the room. He locked his gaze directly on each man in turn. Something strange happened - their muscles went slack, their eyes glazing over with a vacant stare.

The Fly Grongi's multifaceted eyes began to pulse with a subtle, hypnotic rhythm. Each criminal stood motionless, completely entranced by Ivae's penetrating stare.

"Sorry, but you all will have to do something for me."

…

(Flashback)

Detective Yuri Watanabe walked briskly through the precinct, her determined stride cutting through the usual morning bustle. Captain George Stacy was reviewing some reports at his desk, his reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

Yuri approached, her posture tense. "Sir, I have urgent information."

George looked up, his weathered face showing mild curiosity. "What's so urgent, detective."

She glanced around the open office, noting the other officers within earshot. "Can we talk about this privately."

George nodded, understanding her caution. "Alright."

They moved together toward his office, George leading the way. He closed the door behind them, blocking out the ambient noise of the precinct. Yuri stood near his desk, her hands clasped tightly.

George settled into his chair and removed his glasses. "So what is this urgent information you have?"

Yuri recounted yesterday's encounter. She described the scene in vivid detail - how she had witnessed the strange creature, the Fly Grongi, locked in combat with the mysterious Kamen Rider. Her voice carried a mix of professional detachment and barely concealed amazement.

During a brief pause in their battle, she explained, she managed to approach the armored warrior. The Kamen Rider had been surprisingly cooperative, sharing crucial details about these unidentified beings that had been terrorizing the city. Now, standing in Captain Stacy's office, she carefully relayed this vital intelligence to her superior.

The captain's eyes remained fixed on Yuri's determined face, studying every nuance of her expression. Years of experience had taught him to read people well, and he could see the truth in her unwavering gaze.

"Ignoring the fact that you let Kamen Rider get away. Can this information be trusted?" he said, his voice measured and deliberate.

Yuri met his gaze without flinching. "That is what Kamen Rider told me, Captain. And my gut is telling me this is true."

George remained quiet, processing her words. His eyes narrowed slightly, considering the unusual circumstances. Minutes ticked by as he contemplated the potential risks and implications of her report.

"Alright, I'll trust your gut detective," he finally said. "Truthfully, I also think this Kamen Rider is not a bad guy. I don't want to rely on vigilantes, but he seems to be the only one who can deal with these Grongi."

"Thank you, Captain," Yuri responded, a hint of relief in her voice.

George straightened in his chair, his authoritative demeanor returning. "Since we know that these homicides are connected to an unidentified creature, I'll be letting the entire police investigate the Grongi's whereabouts."

The NYPD crime analysis unit worked meticulously, mapping out the Grongi's previous murder locations. Pinned maps covered the walls, with red strings connecting crime scenes across New York City. Forensic analysts and data specialists collaborated, examining geographical patterns, time intervals, and victim profiles.

Detailed geographic information system (GIS) software tracked the subtle movements of the killer. Each murder site was carefully plotted, revealing a gradual progression through Manhattan's urban landscape. The killer's path wasn't random but followed a calculated trajectory, moving from the Lower East Side through Chinatown and slowly advancing toward Midtown.

Geographical analysis revealed a consistent radius of movement, approximately 2.3 miles between each killing. The murders occurred at specific intervals - roughly 36 to 48 hours apart. Researchers noted unusual characteristics: each crime scene showed similar wound patterns and a distinct green residue that defied conventional forensic classification.

Mapping algorithms predicted the next potential attack zone. Based on the established pattern, the killer would likely strike in the Chelsea or Flatiron District within the next 48 hours.

(Present)

George stood up, his commanding presence filling the small office. He addressed the assembled officers with a stern, no-nonsense tone. "We've identified a potential attack zone in the Chelsea and Flatiron Districts. Concentrate your patrols in those areas. Watch for anyone exhibiting unusual behavior - signs of hypnosis, sudden aggression, or unexplained mental distress."

The officers listened intently, their faces a mix of determination and apprehension.

"And listen carefully," George continued, his voice dropping to a serious register. "If you encounter the Grongi, do not engage. I repeat - do not engage. These creatures are beyond standard police intervention. Your priority is civilian safety and observation. Any direct confrontation will likely result in casualties."

The officers nodded, understanding the gravity of the instructions. They filed out of the office, their movements purposeful and disciplined.

Once they had left, George turned to Detective Yuri Watanabe. "Contact the Kamen Rider," he said simply. "We need his help to stop this."

"Already did, Captain."

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across Chelsea's streets as police cruisers methodically patrolled the designated zones. Yuri Watanabe sat in her unmarked car, her fingers tapping restlessly against the steering wheel. Radio chatter filled the vehicle's interior, officers reporting their sectors clear.

Suddenly, a burst of static interrupted the routine communication.

"Dispatch, this is Officer Moore. I've got visual on the... wait, what the hell is—" The transmission abruptly cut off mid-sentence.

Yuri's hand immediately grabbed the radio. "Moore? Moore, respond."

Silence.

She started her engine, tires screeching as she accelerated toward the last known coordinates. Her police training kicked in, adrenaline sharpening her focus. Something was wrong, and she knew it.

The radio crackled with confused voices. "Lost contact with Moore. Last known location is 23rd and 7th Avenue."

Yuri gripped the steering wheel, her jaw set. She was heading directly into whatever had silenced her fellow officer.

***

Leave a comment and review of your thoughts

Give some power stones to support this novel.

Advance chapters are in my P@|r3on - Najicablitz