Bronx District.
Accompanied by the chugging sound of a scooter engine, Zaire's pink Vespa came to a gradual stop along a dilapidated street. Not far away, a rundown two-story house stood hidden among thick trees, its shadowy form blending with the somber environment.
According to the files, after being dismissed from Midtown High, Dr. Curt Connors left his Manhattan apartment and relocated to this impoverished, predominantly Latinx neighborhood. The modest two-story structure before Zaire was listed as his temporary residence.
Dismounting from his Vespa, Zaire casually locked it and scanned the surroundings behind his sunglasses. His keen ears picked up only the rustling of leaves in the breeze. Confident there were no witnesses within several hundred meters, he strode into the shadows of the trees, his steps silent over the private driveway strewn with untended leaves. He came to a stop at the house's front door.
A faint frown crossed Zaire's face as he glanced at the dusty porch. The place was littered with a chaotic array of footprints and a small mountain of discarded takeout containers. He instinctively licked his sharp fangs.
Just as his gloved hand rose to knock, the door creaked open, nudged by a faint gust of wind.
"Oh?"
Zaire let out a cold chuckle, the corner of his mouth curling slightly. He tilted his head side to side, cracking his neck, then moved forward without hesitation, pushing the door wider as he stepped into the dimly lit interior.
The moment he entered, a cocktail of odors assaulted his acute sense of smell: the sour stench of decaying food, the rank aroma of unwashed clothing fermenting in the heat, and an odd, frothy smell reminiscent of bile. Underneath it all was a faint metallic tang, reminiscent of blood.
The air carried an unsettling stillness. Zaire's sharp eyes quickly noted that every mirror and reflective surface in the house had been deliberately obscured. His suspicions mounting, he reached up and removed his sunglasses, tucking them into his pocket.
"Dr. Curt Connors?" he called out, his voice calm yet carrying an edge that echoed through the eerie silence.
The house gave no reply.
Creeping forward with deliberate caution, Zaire's boots creaked against the grime-encrusted floorboards as he advanced past the narrow entryway and into the wreckage of the living room. His gaze landed on the claw marks raked across the walls and the shattered remains of furniture strewn everywhere.
The scene left little room for doubt: Connors was no longer simply a man. The transformation into the infamous Lizard had begun.
"Looks like I might've come too late," Zaire muttered to himself, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the carnage. Raising his voice slightly, he called out again, "Dr. Connors, I hope you're home. Otherwise, this trip would've been a waste."
The next moment, his instincts screamed. Without warning, he bent his knees and launched himself upward. His powerful jump sent him soaring, and his razor-sharp claws pierced through the ceiling above, embedding themselves in thick, scaly flesh.
"Got you!" Zaire roared, his bellow reverberating through the decrepit house. His muscles coiled as he yanked downward with savage force.
The ceiling erupted in a cascade of splintered wood and debris, and from the void above, a massive green-scaled creature was torn free. It slammed into the floor with an earth-shaking thud, leaving cracks spider-webbing through the warped boards.
There, sprawled on the ground, lay Connors—the Lizard—his hulking body covered in tough, dark-green scales. His yellow eyes gleamed faintly in the dim light as his serpentine mouth hissed, showing rows of sharp teeth.
But Zaire didn't wait.
As soon as he landed, he grabbed the beast's thick tail and heaved with all his strength, swinging the massive creature like a wrecking ball. The Lizard smashed into the living room wall, embedding itself in the plaster and splintering wooden beams.
Not allowing his foe a chance to recover, Zaire lunged forward, his claws flashing. Slash after slash, his attacks tore through the Lizard's thick hide, sending chunks of scales and flesh flying. The green blood spattered across the walls and pooled on the floor, mixing with the wreckage of the room.
Within seconds, Connors was beaten into submission. His enormous frame began to shrink, his horrifying wounds already healing as his transformation reversed. His scaly body gave way to pale human skin, leaving a battered but unmistakably human form.
"Dr. Connors, are you clear-headed now?" Zaire asked, standing a short distance away and shaking green blood from his claws.
The now-human Connors groaned, clutching at his shoulder. His bloodshot eyes glared up at Zaire.
"You… you're not here to kill me?" he rasped.
Zaire gave a dry laugh, baring his sharp teeth. "If I wanted you dead, you'd be a corpse by now."
Connors fell silent, his gaze fixed warily on Zaire as the tall figure reached into his coat, pulling out a sleek plasma pistol. The weapon hummed faintly as it powered up, the barrel trained unerringly on Connors.
"Before we discuss anything else," Zaire said, his voice low and cold, "tell me: the missing girls from Midtown High—were you involved?"
Connors recoiled, shaking his head vehemently. "No! I swear, I had nothing to do with that! I've never harmed anyone. All my experiments were done on myself. I was made a scapegoat by the school's administration to cover their failures!"
Zaire's wolf-like eyes narrowed as he studied the trembling man. After a moment, he lowered the plasma pistol and gave a toothy grin.
"Welcome to the team, Dr. Connors."
"Wait… what?" Connors stammered.
.............
100 chapter's finally
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