As Mark and Loe sat in the quiet confines of the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, the weight of their conversation hung heavy in the air. Mark's words about Thomas Halloway, Loe's adoptive father and mentor, had brought a somber tone to their discussion.
"Loe, so I heard about Teacher Thomas Halloway," Mark began, his voice filled with empathy as he addressed his friend. He could sense the sadness in Loe's demeanor, knowing how deeply he must have cared for his adoptive father.
Loe's expression softened at the mention of his beloved teacher, his eyes reflecting a mixture of sorrow and nostalgia. "Yes, he passed away long time ago," he replied, his voice heavy with emotion. "He was like a father to me."
Mark nodded in understanding, his own heart heavy with sympathy for his friend's loss. "I'm sorry for your loss, Loe," he offered sincerely, his voice filled with genuine compassion. He knew how much Thomas Halloway meant to Loe and how deeply his passing must have affected him.
Seeing Loe's somber expression, Mark decided to change the subject, lightening the mood. "I heard about you and Chris using that serum that makes you younger and slows down aging. Looking at you now, you seem like you're in your 30s," he remarked.
Loe chuckled in response. "And you, you look like you're still a teenager, well, you are a teenager after that incident," he said with a grin.
As Mark was chukled he suddenly changed the subject again, bringing up Loe's unexpected promotion , Loe became the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.
Loe mentioned how Michael didn't want big responsibilities, which made Mark smile a little. "Well Sir Edward said his son wouldn't like being the boss. Well, Come on you know Michael," Loe explained, sounding like he really knows about Michael.
Mark couldn't help but chuckle at the mention of Michael Wilson. "It sounds just like Michael," he agreed, his laughter tinged with a hint of sadness. Memories of Michael flooded his mind, and his smile faded, replaced by a pang of sorrow for their absent friend.
As Loe saw Mark looking sad, he wanted to make him feel better. So, he changed the subject. "Did you hear what Chris said about what happened after you and Mary died?" he asked. He hoped talking about something else would make Mark feel happier.
Mark's attention shifted from his sorrow to Loe, nodding as he replied, "Yeah, Emily filled me in on everything. She told me how Chris became a Nightwing, taking on my role so that my Nightwing identity wouldn't disappear like Michael's persona did. I'm grateful to Chris for doing that."
"I know right , It's admirable what Chris did," Loe remarked, his voice tinged with respect. "He wanted to ensure that your legacy as Nightwing wouldn't be forgotten."
As they reflected on Chris's actions, a sense of camaraderie and solidarity settled between Mark and Loe. then Loe ask about Mark sister
"Where's Mary?" Loe asked, wanting to know where Mary was.
Mark's gaze softened as he thought of Mary, his own sister and Michael's partner, a dear friend to both of them. "Mary is staying in the basement. She wants to wait for Michael," he explained, his voice carrying a hint of sadness as he considered the pain his sister felt due to Michael's absence.
Loe nodded, understanding Mary's decision. "She really loves him" he said, admiring Mary's commitment to Michael.
"Yeah," Mark agreed quietly, his mind filled with memories of Michael and the warmth of their friendship. Then, he fell silent, the pain of his absence weighing heavily on him. "I miss him," he admitted softly, his voice carrying the longing he felt deep inside. "I miss Michael, and I miss the way things used to be."
Loe placed a reassuring hand on Mark's shoulder, his touch conveying his understanding and empathy. "We all miss him, Mark," he said gently. "But I believe that one day, Michael will return to us. And until then, we'll keep his memory alive and continue fighting for justice, just like he would have wanted."
....
Meanwhile, at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, Edward Wilson sat alone in his office, his thoughts consumed by memories of his son. Despite the passage of time, the pain of Michael's absence lingered in his heart.
As Edward reflected on the events of the past, his thoughts turned to the future of S.H.I.E.L.D. He knew that the organization he had built would continue to stand strong, thanks to the dedication and commitment of its members.
Suddenly, a familiar voice interrupted Edward's thoughts, pulling him back to the present. It was Maria Hill, standing in the doorway of his office with a determined expression on her face.
"Sir, we need to talk," Maria said, her voice grave with urgency. "There's a new threat on the horizon, and we need to be prepared.".
"Tell me everything," Edward said, trying to stay calm even though he felt scared inside.
Maria nodded and took a deep breath. her eyes reflecting both concern and resolve as she began to outline the details of the emerging threat. As she spoke, Edward listened carefully, thinking hard about how they could stop the danger.
....
[Every Breath You Take
Song by The Police]
Every breath you take
And every move you make
Every bond you break
Every step you take
I'll be watching you
Every single day
And every word you say
Every game you play
Every night you stay
I'll be watching you
Oh, can't you see
You belong to me?
How my poor heart aches
With every step you take?
Since you've gone, I've been lost without a trace
I dream at night, I can only see your face
I look around, but it's you I can't replace
I feel so cold, and I long for your embrace
I keep crying, baby, baby please
Oh, can't you see
You belong to me?
How my poor heart aches
With every step you take?
....
I'll be watching you
I'll be watching you
whoo, hoo
(Every game you play)
(Every night you stay) I'll be watching you
I'll be watching you
I'll be watching you
I'll be watching you
(Every single day)
(Every word you say)
(Every game you play)
(Every night you stay) I'll be watching you
....
Timeline: April 22 1990
Thirty-eight years have passed by since Spider-Man dissapeared. It was April 22, 1990, marking the anniversary of his disappearance.
The sun shone through the curtains, making the room bright and cozy. A boy sat at his desk, drawing Spider-Man in his book. He was really focused on making the drawing just right. He draw the iconic figure of Spider-Man swinging through the city skyline.
As he was drawing, he heard a 53 years old women's voice from downstairs. She called out, "Peter, breakfast is ready!" Her voice was soft and familiar, breaking the silence of his room.
Peter's eyes lit up with excitement as he heard her call. "I'll be there in a minute, Aunt May!" he replied enthusiastically, quickly closing his textbook and setting aside his drawing materials.
"Morning, Uncle Ben!" Peter greeted as he reached the bottom of the stairs, where his uncle was already seated at the kitchen table, a newspaper in hand.
"Hey there, Peter," Uncle Ben responded, affectionately ruffling his nephew's hair before they both turned their attention to the television set. Where the familiar voice of J. Jonah Jameson Jr. boomed from the screen.
"Welcome to The Daily Bugle, where our news is more accurate and always states fact," Jameson proclaimed in his trademark authoritative tone. "Today marks 38 years since the disappearance of Spider-Man, as well as the anniversary of the New York War incident. Is Spider-Man truly gone, or is he simply a coward who can't face the consequences of his actions?"
Peter couldn't help but roll his eyes at Jameson's braggy introduction. He really didn't like the guy. "Why does he always hate Spider-Man?" Peter grumbled to himself. "It makes me want to punch his face." Even at his young age, Peter's frustration with Jameson was clear as day.
Uncle Ben couldn't help but laugh at Peter's honest comment, showing how much he cared for his nephew. "Sometimes, Peter, I wonder if you're really ten years old. But then again, you are pretty smart," he teased playfully. Then, his face softened with nostalgia.
"Spider-Man... I remember him when I was your age, Peter," Uncle Ben reflected, his voice carrying a touch of nostalgia as he remembered his own youth.
Peter got really interested when Spider-Man was mentioned. His eyes widened with excitement as he asked his uncle, "Really? How is he, Uncle? What's Spider-Man like? Can he really shoot webs from his wrists? Or does he really can make items appeared out of thin air?" Peter was so curious, imagining all the amazing things Spider-Man could do.
Uncle Ben leaned back in his chair, contemplating Peter's question before responding with a reminiscent smile. "Now, calm down, calm down," he said, chuckling at Peter's excitement. "Let's see... when I was your age, our town had a lot of bad guys causing trouble, But Spider-Man was always there to stop them,," he began, his voice tinged with nostalgia.
"He saved me once, back when I was twelve years old," Uncle Ben continued, his gaze drifting into the past. "He even knew my name, Peter. He looked right at me and said, 'Be careful, Ben.' It felt like he knew everyone in town."
Peter's eyes widened in awe at his uncle's recounting of his encounter with Spider-Man, his admiration for the hero growing with each word. "Really? He knows your name?" Peter asked, super amazed. He couldn't wait to hear more about Spider-Man.
Uncle Ben nodded with a fond smile. "Yep, Spider-Man seems to know everyone around here," he confirmed, his own admiration for the masked vigilante evident in his tone.
"Spider-Man is really cool," Peter declared, a sense of awe washing over his words as he continuing to idolize the legendary hero.
"He certainly was, Pete," Uncle Ben agreed with a soft smile, his gaze distant as he reminisced about days gone by. "And who knows? Maybe one day you'll get to meet him for yourself.
Peter felt really excited thinking about meeting Spider-Man someday. But little did he know that destiny had something extraordinary in store for him, something that would change his life forever.
....
Meanwhile
In the dark basement, Michael Wilson, also known as Spider-Man, was frozen in ice. Mark and Mary Taylor, his loveones, were worriedly keeping an eye on him. They felt like time was going very slowly as they waited, hoping he would wake up soon.
[Back then, both siblings went by the last name Fletcher. However, due to the events , they both have now the last name Taylor.]
"How's Michael?" Mark asked, sounding worried
Mary's eyes were swollen and red from the tears she had shed, her heart heavy with worry. She shook her head slowly, her movements weighed down by despair. In the dimly lit basement, the only sound breaking the heavy silence was the low hum of the machinery that kept the room warm, a constant reminder of Michael's frozen state.
"He's still frozen," she said quietly, her voice barely heard over the noise of the machines keeping the basement from cold. "It's like time stopped for him, and we're just stuck here, waiting." She wiped away a tear with her hand, feeling really sad for her boyfriend. "We don't know what to do," she added, her heart feeling heavy with worry.
Mark let out a heavy sigh, the weight of long years pressing down on his shoulders. "It's been so long," he murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of sadness and frustration. "We don't even know if he'll ever wake up from this."
Tears continued to stream down Mary's cheeks as she clutched tightly to the hope that had sustained them for decades. "I can't bear the thought of him being trapped like this forever," she choked out, her voice trembling with emotion.
Suddenly, a low rumbling filled the air, causing Mark and Mary to exchange alarmed glances. Before they could react, they saw the ice around Michael starting to crack and melt, sending misty clouds of frost into the room.
Both brothers and sisters were stunned when Michael's icy prison finally cracked open, and his body fell to the floor, trying to catch his breath as he struggled to adjust to his sudden freedom.
"Michael!" Mark shouted, hurrying to his friend's side as Mary stood close behind him, feeling both relieved and scared. Her heart raced with a mix of emotions as she watched Michael's well being.
As Michael slowly opened his eyes and looked around, he felt confused. "Where am I?" he asked in a raspy voice, his throat feeling dry and scratchy from not being used.
Mark and Mary felt a rush of relief as they heard Michael's voice, but they understood that the journey ahead wouldn't be easy. "Mark? Mary?" Michael looked at them, his eyes filled with confusion. "What's going on?"
....
Oh, can't you see
You belong to me?
How my poor heart aches
With every step you take?
To be continued