[Unknown POV]
—Some days Before—
[—Birch Psychiatric Hospital—]
Danny Rand sat hunched on the edge of his hospital bed, his body aching from the earlier struggle with the orderlies. The sharp smell of antiseptic filled the air, an unwelcome reminder of his surroundings. The restraints on his wrists didn't just bind his hands—they weighed down his spirit.
His mind churned in an endless loop of memories and doubts.
Joy Meachum. The sister he had trusted with his truth. The one person he believed would stand by him. Instead, she had smiled at him with feigned warmth, her concern cloaking a dagger of betrayal. He could still taste the tea she had offered, warm and comforting, right before the dizziness set in. Her voice had become a distant echo as the guards seized him.
Why wouldn't she believe me?
The question clawed at his mind, as did the haunting memories of the crash. His parents' screams. The fiery wreckage of the plane. The monks of K'un-Lun find him broken and desperate. He had endured everything to survive, forging himself into the living weapon known as the Iron Fist. Yet here he was, powerless, disbelieved, and labelled insane.
Danny clenched his fists, willing the familiar warmth of his chi to ignite. But nothing came. Only the dull ache of frustration.
The psychiatrist's patronizing voice echoed in his head.
"You're delusional, Danny. These stories of dragon, K'un-Lun and glowing fists are just fantasies, a way to cope with the trauma. It's okay to let go."
Let go? How could he let go of the truth? He knew what he had endured—what he had become. But no one else could see it.
Ward. Joy. They were hiding something. He had seen the fear in Ward's eyes, the tension in Joy's voice. The siblings were playing a deeper game, one he couldn't yet decipher.
As the night deepened, the oppressive silence of the hospital room seemed to crush him. He stared at the ceiling, his thoughts racing. He couldn't trust the Meachums. He couldn't stay in this place.
Then, like a lifeline breaking through the storm, he remembered.
Chikara Dojo.
Colleen Wing. The tough, unflinching woman who had dismissed him as a madman. And Peter Parker, the quiet, sharp-eyed man who had handed him a scrap of paper with a phone number.
Danny's fingers fumbled in his pocket. Relief flooded him when he felt the crumpled paper still there. He unfolded it, the faint ink a promise that not everyone thought he was crazy.
He stared at the number, his resolve hardening.
If the Meachums wouldn't help him, if the doctors wouldn't believe him, then maybe the people at the dojo would.
And he was going to find out.
—Parker Residence—
[Peter's POV]
I made my way into the kitchen, preparing chicken curry and rice along with a few other dishes that came to mind. After setting the table, I heard Aunt May entering the room. Her wet hair flowed down her back, and she was dressed in a loose t-shirt and shorts. No bra. My sharp eyes caught the faint outline of her slightly hardened nipples, her casual style matching her easygoing personality.
No matter how many times I saw her, it was hard not to admire just how stunning and attractive she was. A frustrated sigh escaped my lips as I tried to shake off the wild thoughts swirling in my mind.
"Wow, Peter, this smells amazing! You're spoiling me with your cooking!" she exclaimed, a chuckle escaping her lips as she took her seat at the table. She leaned forward to grab a spoonful of food, and I couldn't help but notice the way her shirt clung to her figure.
"Don't get too used to it, May," I teased. "Someday, I'll have a wife, and you won't be able to enjoy my cooking anymore."
May paused for a moment, her expression flickering with something unspoken, before muttering under her breath, "Lucky bitch…"
But I heard it, even though she probably thought I didn't. Suppressing a grin, I decided to tease her further. "Hey, don't go cursing my future wife already!"
She looked up, startled and embarrassed. "Oh, um… you heard that?" she stammered, her cheeks flushing slightly. But she quickly recovered. "Anyway, you're not going anywhere, Peter. You can't just leave your poor, old aunt behind."
I chuckled at her attempt to change the subject. "May, you're not old, so don't even try that."
She gave me a playful roll of her eyes, but there was something about the way she spoke that tugged at me. Lately, she hadn't seemed as guarded around me. Was it trust, or something else?
She bent forward again to eat, and her loose t-shirt shifted slightly, giving me another glimpse of her brown cute nipples. I swallowed hard, wondering if she realized how much she wasn't guarding herself around me or maybe she knew. Anyway, I joined her for dinner, ready to tell her that I finally had a job.
"By the way, do you remember I applied to work with Dr. Connors?" I asked, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction.
"Of course! Did you hear back?" she asked, her curiosity genuine.
"Well, I had my first day today," I said with a grin, letting my excitement show. "I'm officially working under one of the biggest names in genetics!"
May's face lit up with pride. "Oh, Peter! That's amazing! I'm so proud of you!" She stood and pulled me into a tight hug, her warmth enveloping me. For a moment, I just let myself enjoy the embrace, appreciating the connection we shared.
When I finally pulled back, I looked into her eyes, my tone turning serious. "May, I know you've been working double shifts at the hospital to make sure everything is taken care of. I can't thank you enough for all you've done for me. You've made me feel like I have someone to rely on like I have a family. I'm truly grateful."
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she hugged me again, her voice soft. "Peter, you don't have to thank me. I'd do it all over again for you."
But I meant every word. May had sacrificed so much to ensure original Peter Parker had the life and opportunities he needed. A single woman working tirelessly for her nephew—it was the strength and determination, I admired deeply in her.
Later that night, we settled on the couch to watch a Korean drama, a rare moment of peace in our busy lives. May laughed at the over-the-top romance scenes, her humour infectious, while I leaned back, feeling content.
Though I've always felt emotional attachments could hinder my goals, I decided not to give a shit. I wanted to be happy and do whatever my heart desired, whether people thought of me as a good guy or a psychopath.
[-11:30 PM-]
I sat cross-legged on the bed, my eyes closed, focusing on my hive mind. Slowly, more than a billion glowing red dots appeared in my mind, lines connecting them like a web. The connection came with a splitting headache, whispers crashing over me like a tidal wave. It was overwhelming, like trying to contain a storm in a glass.
I wasn't ready for this. My brain just didn't have the capacity—not yet. I needed psychic abilities like Charles Xavier or Emma Frost, people whose minds could handle the weight of all this power.
Taking a deep breath, I tried to focus on a single thread, a single ant. The one I'd planted in Emily's clothes. She was the widowed mother I'd saved, and I'd left her with a safeguard. Slowly, her dot glowed brighter, the static settling into faint voices and images.
FBI agents. They were interrogating her.
I sighed in relief. At least Kingpin's men hadn't made their move yet. Small mercies. The strain started to build again, my head pounding like someone was driving nails into my skull. I gasped and released the connection, clutching my head.
"Ugh… here I thought I was getting overpowered," I muttered, my voice tinged with frustration. "But I'm still so weak when it comes to this psychic stuff."
It wasn't anyone's fault but mine. Psychic abilities weren't something you could just gain overnight. Still, I wasn't planning on giving up anytime soon. With enough time and effort, I'd make it work.
I smirked to myself, thinking about what to call this ability. Something dramatic, something cool. "Infinite Eyes," I muttered. "Yeah, that's got a nice ring to it." One day, it'd let me watch over everything happening in this city. But for now, I had work to do.
I glanced at the clock. 12:30 AM. Time slipped away when you were wrestling with your brain.
Shaking off the lingering pain, I stood up and pulled on a black hoodie. Grabbing my backpack stuffed with my phantom laptop and gadgets—I wasn't about to reveal my inventory ability to anyone—I slipped out of the window. My landing was soft and controlled as I suppressed my enhanced strength. The streets were quiet as I made my way to the hospital.
[After an Hour]
Standing in the shadows, I stared at the building in front of me. Bright neon letters on the sign gleamed back at me:
[Birch Psychiatric Hospital]
"Well, time to break out a billionaire," I muttered with a smirk, covering my face with a simple black mask. "Let's make him owe me for this one."
Of course, nothing was ever that simple. Someone was keeping tabs on him 24/7 through the hospital's surveillance system. If I was going to pull this off, I needed to be careful.
I ducked into a nearby alley, blending into the darkness. Caution had always been my ally, and tonight, it wasn't going to fail me.