Mark stood in the kitchen, his mind racing as he watched Mary's relaxed expression shift to one of concern. He had hoped to keep things simple, to avoid making her worry, but it was clear she wasn't going to let this go without answers.
"Hey, Mary," he began, his voice tinged with a mix of nervousness and determination. "Can we talk for a moment?"
Mary looked up from the counter where she was arranging snacks, a smile on her face as she wiped her hands on a towel. "Sure, what's up?"
Mark took a deep breath, trying to steady his thoughts. He couldn't afford to let Mary sense his own unease. "So, there's something important I need to tell you. I'll be heading to Chicago tomorrow with Loe for a week."
Mary's smile faltered slightly, her brows knitting together in concern. "Chicago? For a week? What's going on?"
Mark hesitated, his thoughts racing. He knew he had to protect Mary from the real reason behind the trip, but lying to her was not an option. He decided to keep it simple, hoping to ease her worries. "It's a... special assignment we've been given by Michael. And... Michael's going to look after you while I'm gone. I just wanted to make sure you knew what's happening and that you'd be okay with it."
Mary raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced. "Wait... don't talk too much okay..." She sighed and looked directly into Mark's eyes, her expression serious. "What assignment? And Michael looking after me? Why isn't he going with you?"
Mark quickly thought through his response. He knew Mary was sharp, and he couldn't afford to make any mistakes in his explanation. "Um... Michael has something to do—his father needs his help, so he can't come with us. That's why, instead of you staying here alone, it's better for you to stay at Michael's house for the week. You're already welcome there—Uncle Ed and Aunt Ember have always treated us like family. You'll be safe and comfortable there."
Mary seemed to mull this over, her concern evident in her eyes. "I don't like the idea of you going off without telling me what's really going on, Brother. But I trust you and Michael since Michael is not the one who would put you in danger."
Mark felt a wave of relief wash over him. He hadn't lied, but he also hadn't given away too much. It was a delicate balance, and he was glad Mary had accepted his explanation.
"Thanks, Mary," he said softly, giving her a reassuring smile. "I promise I'll be careful, and I'll keep in touch as much as I can."
Mary nodded, though her worry was still palpable. "You better. And you better come back in one piece."
Mark chuckled, pulling her into a hug. "I will. Don't worry."
As they held each other, Mark felt the weight of the upcoming mission pressing on him even more. But for now, in this moment, he was focused on reassuring his sister. He knew the dangers that awaited him in Chicago, but he also knew he had to protect her from that knowledge.
.......
Under the harsh midday sun, the streets of New York bustled with life, but in a shadowy alley, Michael Wilson—Spider-Man—was locked in a fierce battle. His black spandex suit, with its deep blue eyes on the mask, absorbed the light, giving him an almost spectral presence as he moved with precision through the throng of thugs surrounding him.
One of the thugs charged from behind, but Michael's Spider-Sense flared just in time. He twisted on his heel, delivering a powerful kick to the thug's chest, sending him crashing into a stack of crates. The sound of splintering wood echoed through the alley. Another attack came from the right—a bat swung with lethal intent—but Michael ducked just in time, feeling the rush of air as it whooshed past his head. He retaliated instantly, backflipping to gain distance, then shot a web at his attacker's face, yanking him to the ground with a satisfying thud.
As Michael fought, his mind was elsewhere, planning ahead. "I need to prepare some tools for Mark and Loe," he mused, evading another strike with a quick sidestep. "Their journey is going to be dangerous, and they'll need all the help they can get." He executed a flawless somersault, webbing up three more thugs in midair before landing gracefully, his feet barely making a sound.
With swift, experience movements, Michael wrapped up another ten thugs in his webbing, immobilizing them with a few deft flicks of his wrist. He couldn't resist a quip, even in the heat of battle. "Stay there like a wrapped spring rolls" he chuckled, his voice light despite the intensity of the situation.
Just as Michael caught his breath, his Spider-Sense flared up once more. A menacing figure appeared at the entrance of the alley. He was a large, intimidating man with an X-shaped scar over his left eye. The sunlight gleamed off the scar, making him look even more threatening.
"Spider-Man!!!" the leader bellowed, his voice filled with venom. He turned to his remaining men, shouting, "Kill Spider-Man!!"
The remaining thugs, emboldened by their leader, tightened their grip on their weapons, ready to swarm. The midday heat beat down on the scene, making the tension feel even more oppressive.
Michael sighed, rolling his shoulders as he prepared for the next onslaught. "Time for round two.." he muttered to himself, his voice full of resolve. The leader of the thugs charged at him, with his men following closely behind, but Michael stood his ground, ready to face whatever came next.
....
Timeline: June 21, 1951
Meanwhile, in an opulent dining room of their private villa, Chris Hilton, 18, and his father, Conrad Hilton, sat at a grand, polished table surrounded by some of the most influential figures in the business world. The room was adorned with exquisite art and golden chandeliers, casting a warm glow over the high-end dining experience. The table was a masterpiece of culinary art, laden with luxurious dishes prepared by renowned chefs.
Sir Edmund Hawthorne Cavendish from the United Kingdom, known for his fine wines and spirits, took a sip from his glass and remarked, "Your son Chris, he's truly exceptional. Just like you, Sir Conrad. It must be gratifying to have a son with such talent."
Conrad Hilton, a distinguished figure in his own right, gave a modest smile as he patted his son on the head. "I'm flattered, Edmund, but Chris is not like me at all. He's charting his own course, and I believe he's destined for greatness." He glanced proudly at Chris, who met his father's gaze with a mix of admiration and determination.
The distinguished guests around the table represented a tapestry of global excellence:
Sir Edmund Hawthorne Cavendish from the United Kingdom, whose business specialized in fine wines and spirits, showcased exclusive vintage wines and bespoke whiskey.
Katharina Sophie von Bismarck from France, renowned for her Perfume House, offered high-end, bespoke fragrances that were the epitome of luxury.
Marco Vittorio D'Angelo from Italy, with his prestigious architectural firm, was known for grand, bespoke building designs and interior architecture that redefined opulence.
Lito Albarado from the Philippines, whose food and beverage empire included a chain of gourmet Filipino restaurants serving modern takes on traditional dishes, and a line of premium packaged Filipino food products.
Yoon Min Lee from Korea, known for his traditional Korean cuisine, provided exclusive dining experiences and high-end Korean culinary products.
Rajesh Nanda Gupta from India, who deals in intricately designed luxury jewelry.
Wang Xiu Ying from China, known for his high-quality Chinese teas from renowned regions.
Lenore Van Ryn, representing the Chicago Outfit, showcased trending outfits and popular fashion lines, stepping in as a substitute for her boss.
Conrad addressed the group, "My son is unique. I have no doubt that he will surpass me and become even more remarkable."
Chris looked at his father, his expression thoughtful. "Father..." he began, but Conrad's words had already set the tone for the midday.
Lito Albarado, reminiscing about his own son, said, "Chris reminds me of my anak (son)."
Yoon Min Lee nodded in agreement. "Well, he's quite impressive for his age. It's always inspiring to see young talent with such potential."
Lenore Van Ryn observed Chris with keen interest, her mind already formulating strategies. (Interesting... the young Hilton, huh?) she thought, her curiosity piqued.
Marco Vittorio D'Angelo, with a flourish, announced, "Now, let us indulge in some of the finest cuisine Italy has to offer." He gestured towards the waiters and managers who began to present the meticulously prepared dishes.
The first course was a grand display of Italian culinary mastery: delicate truffle risotto, adorned with edible gold flakes and accompanied by a robust Chianti. The next course featured a beautifully seared Wagyu beef steak, paired with a rich, red wine reduction, followed by an intricate seafood medley that showcased the freshest catches from the Mediterranean.
As the food was served, Marco continued, "I hope you all enjoy this meal as much as we enjoyed preparing it for you."
The guests murmured in approval as they tasted the luxurious offerings, each bite a testament to Marco's dedication to culinary excellence. The midday continued with lively conversation and appreciation for the exceptional meal, setting the stage for future collaborations and deeper connections among the world's elite.
....
It was a bright, crisp afternoon when Loe Halloway, with a focused yet relaxed demeanor, was busy packing his clothes for the upcoming week in Chicago. His room, sparsely decorated but functional, was filled with the hum of activity. Clothes were neatly folded and placed into a travel bag, while a few personal items were set aside on the bed. The window, partially open, allowed a gentle breeze to flutter the curtains, adding a touch of calm to the otherwise busy scene.
Suddenly, there was a soft knock on the door. Loe, momentarily distracted from his task, called out, "Come in."
The door creaked open, and Thomas Halloway, Loe's adoptive father, stepped into the room. Thomas, dressed in his usual casual attire, looked slightly hesitant. His expression was a mix of concern and unease, reflecting the weight of their earlier conversation.
Thomas's voice was tentative as he began, "Loe, I…"
Loe looked up from his packing, pausing mid-action. His gaze met Thomas's, and he could see the remorse in his adoptive father's eyes. Loe's own expression softened, though he maintained a hint of his usual sassiness. He knew Thomas was grappling with the fallout from their earlier discussion about Loe's boss— Albert Capone the man who had saved him from the slums but whose actions had conflicted deeply with Loe's own moral compass.
Loe, with a smirk that belied his inner turmoil, reassured Thomas. "Old Man, I understand what you're saying. Don't worry about those things. I get it. You've got your own regrets, and I've got my mixed feelings about my boss."
Loe's voice was calm, but it revealed the inner conflict he felt. Although he was deeply troubled by the terrible things his boss, Albert Capone, had done, he still held a certain respect for him. This respect came from the support Capone had given him and the way he had treated his men like family.
Loe's feelings were mixed. He was grateful for the help and protection Capone had provided, but he also disapproved of Capone's actions. This complicated blend of thankfulness and moral conflict defined Loe's complicated relationship with his dead boss.
Thomas, still standing in the doorway, appeared to be searching for the right words. "Are you sure, Loe?"
Loe nodded, his gaze unwavering. "I'm sure, Old Man. Now, go on. I've still got some stuff to take care of." He gestured toward Mindy, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, a hint of embarrassment on her face as she realized she'd been overhearing their conversation.
Mindy, blushing deeply, stammered, "So-sorry…"
Thomas chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. "Alright, alright. I'll keep an eye on your… girlfriend."
Loe's cheeks flushed slightly as he shot back with his trademark sass, "She's not my girlfriend, Old Man!!"
Despite Loe's defensive attitude, the affection he held for Thomas was evident in the way he tolerated the older man's teasing. The room's atmosphere was a blend of light-hearted banter and genuine concern. The breeze continued to dance through the open window, carrying with it the promise of new challenges and unresolved emotions.
As Thomas left the room with a warm smile, Loe turned back to his packing with a renewed sense of focus. Mindy, though still a bit embarrassed, watched him quietly, appreciating the softer side of the man she admired. The afternoon sunlight filtered through the room, casting a warm glow on Loe's preparations for the mission ahead.
To be continue