The dead of night, Captain Julia Stacy
The shrill ring of the phone yanked Julia from sleep. She stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, groggy and disoriented, trying to make sense of the sound. The past few days had been… intense, leaving her with little time to rest. And now, just as things were finally settling down and she had a chance to sleep, this.
Growling with frustration, she grabbed the phone, squinted at the unknown number, and answered it—because who knew what disaster might have occurred now.
"Captain Stacy speaking," she rasped, her voice thick with exhaustion and irritation.
"Good evening, Captain Stacy. I'm sorry for calling so late," came an unfamiliar but young male voice on the other end. "Gwen gave me your number at the manor outside the city last Saturday."
"Oh," Julia's tone softened instantly. She could forgive this kid for interrupting her sleep. "Is something wrong, Mister Mutant?"
"Ahem… yes, Captain Stacy," the young man coughed awkwardly. "It turns out I've just walked out of a building located in your precinct. There's a small drug-dealing operation here—about twenty people, weapons, and drugs. The offenders have been subdued and restrained. Could your officers come and make the arrests? I'll text you the address."
Julia blinked in stunned silence for a few moments, processing what she'd just heard. Then, remembering herself, she replied, "They can. Send the address. Will you still be there?"
"No, sorry, Captain. Spider-Girl and I have already taken care of tying everyone up, but we're leaving now. I'm a mutant, as you know, so who knows how people might react tomorrow if word gets out. Plus, my partner's not eager to reveal her identity either. Sorry again for waking you, but early morning is the best time for quiet 'work.' Please give Gwen my regards. Have a good day."
"No trouble at all," Julia managed, still slightly dazed. "I'll be sure to pass that along. Have a good day, young man."
The line went dead, leaving her staring at the phone. After rubbing her tired eyes, Julia sighed, acknowledging that she had no time to unpack her feelings about this situation. She needed to get up, head to the scene, and call Lieutenant Elizabeth, who was on night duty, to assemble a team.
Her phone pinged with the incoming text message. Reading the address and saving the boy's number, she quickly dialed her lieutenant while hurriedly getting dressed. The location was further from her than from the precinct, so she'd need to move fast.
As she drove, Julia's thoughts turned to the mysterious boy and the people likely supporting him. First, it had been human traffickers, and now drug dealers. If only she had access to the same sources of intel he did. Having a superpowered ally on her side would be a game-changer in a city like New York, rife with crime. Mutant or not, this kid seemed well-informed, strong, and likely well-trained.
She sighed and allowed herself a fleeting fantasy of having superhumans under her command. If public sentiment toward mutants continued to improve, perhaps one day young men like him one could work directly under her leadership. Julia had never been naive and knew how many valuable individuals were lost to society's biases against "the awakened."
Mutants dangerous? Julia snorted at the thought. Everyone's dangerous—mutants, supers, mad scientists, gangsters, even ordinary citizens. The percentage of crimes committed by mutants was tiny compared to what regular folks with guns or fists could do. Domestic disputes alone accounted for more murders than any mutant incidents. So what, do we start persecuting housewives too? If society hadn't spent years dunking mutants into a pile of shit, that tiny percentage might be even smaller.
When she arrived at the scene, now cordoned off by police, Julia reminded herself to pass along the young man's regards to Gwen. But she also resolved to talk to her daughter about being cautious. Gwen was a smart girl and unlikely to do anything reckless, but Julia couldn't ignore how close the club incident had come to disaster.
Youth had its risks—she knew that firsthand, having her share of wild times back in the day. Chasing boys, living carefree… that was how Gwen had come into the world, after all. Julia smiled warmly for a moment, lost in nostalgia, before steeling herself and putting on her professional face. Time to get to work.
Toby—A Good Boy
After ending the call, I gave Ooyama a nod, and we set off. Petra and I sat in the backseat, finally getting a chance to talk. I took off my mask but stopped her when she reached for hers.
"Spider-Girl, you're still undercover, remember?" I smiled at her.
"But you—"
"I recognized you," I interrupted with an eye roll. "But my mentor doesn't know who you are, and I'm not telling her. No offense, Sensei." Ooyama didn't even turn around, just shrugged. "Seriously, though, Spider-Girl, you've gotta work on disguising your voice—you're going to blow your cover with people you know."
"Yeah, okay. I'll figure something out. But why did you… you know, reveal yourself?" She hesitated, clearly flustered. "I wouldn't have recognized you."
"Well, three reasons," I said, leaning back. "First, time was short, and you'd believe me as Toby faster than you'd trust some random guy in a mask. Second, I'd already slipped up a while ago, so anyone paying attention could connect the dots between me and a mutant kid who melts metal. And third… I trust you, Spider-Girl. We've known each other a while, and you've always been… good people, you know? Your actions speak for themselves, no matter what the Daily Bugle says."
"Thanks, Toby. I get it." She seemed pleased by my words. Stroking a teenager's ego is always a safe bet. "So, are you going to be a hero now?"
"Eh… it's complicated, Spider," I scratched my head, thinking. "Just don't tell anyone, okay?" I waited for her nod before continuing. "If you've been watching the news, you've probably noticed that lately, there's been a shift. They're not demonizing mutants as much anymore—some are even defending us. Our leaders decided to lean into that and help improve public opinion by doing some good. So, you'll start seeing mutants like me—solo or in teams—helping people. My first outing was the debut of 'Mister Mutant,'" I sighed heavily. "And why didn't I come up with a cooler name? Anyway, from the media reaction, you've probably seen it's working. People are accepting it, and now the plan's in motion."
"You're risking your life for mutant PR?!" The outrage in Parker's voice was almost tangible, like she was ready to swoop in and rescue me from some evil mutant overlords forcing a poor boy into dangerous missions.
"Okay, stop right there, Spider," I said firmly, furrowing my brow and raising my voice just enough to cut through her indignation. "No one's forcing me to do anything. I do this out of gratitude to the mutant community. They've done so much for me, Spider-Girl. Without them, I'd probably already be dead—or worse, some lab rat." I exhaled deeply, closing my eyes to calm myself. No point snapping at her when she didn't know the full story. "Just trust me on this—mutants look out for each other, for the most part. Nobody's throwing me into harm's way for fun. Both last time and this time, I wasn't in real danger. My abilities aren't just for shocking people or melting stuff—I've got defensive measures, too.
"I can stand under machine-gun fire, at least until my reserves run out. But trust me, I wouldn't just stand there, you know? Thanks for worrying, though. I appreciate it." Smiling, I gave her hand a quick squeeze to smooth over my earlier irritation. I wasn't mad at her, really—mutants had become my family, and I just got a bit defensive. "And both missions were supervised by Sensei. I also had intel on how many enemies there were and what kind of weapons they had. Nothing to lose sleep over."
"Okay, got it. So… I messed up your whole operation, didn't I?" she muttered, sounding genuinely down. "Jameson already hates me. If he finds out I was involved, The Daily Bugle will totally drag you guys through the mud."
Cue Ooyama's signature creepy giggle.
"You don't need to worry about that, girl," she said, her tone oddly amused. She glanced at me briefly before focusing back on the road. "In fact, you're lucky to have been part of this operation."
"Why?" Parker asked, turning to her, but Ooyama had already gone back to ignoring her.
"I think Sensei means that JJ won't dare bark at you for this," I said, nodding to myself. "The mutant-positive narrative is being pushed really hard right now—by pretty much everyone except the hardcore mutant-haters on the internet. So either they won't mention you at all, or they'll spin it positively. At worst, you'll get something like, 'with minor assistance from Spider-Girl.' They're not going to fling mud over this, trust me."
Parker went quiet for a couple of minutes, then suddenly giggled.
"Toby, listen! If you ever need help on one of your missions, just call me!"
"Wow, sneaky Spider-Girl, trying to get in on the action!" I laughed. "Deal. If Sensei approves, I'll give you a call. I'm not exactly Mr. Muscles—physically, I'm just an average guy—but you're strong, agile, and can crawl on walls. Sounds like a dream team to me." I even closed my eyes for a second, pretending to dream about it.
Parker turned to Sensei. "Sensei?" she asked tentatively.
"To him, I'm Sensei," Ooyama said curtly, not missing a beat. "You can call me Miss Ooyama, Miss Yuriko Ooyama, or ma'am." Parker froze for a second, clearly unsure how to respond. Ooyama continued, "I'll consider letting you participate. But not for every mission—Tobias needs to train on his own, too. Still, the idea of joint training with a strong, agile partner isn't bad. Tobias, give your friend some material on sign language. You have a week to learn it, Spider-Girl. Clear?"
"Uh… yes, ma'am," Parker stammered.
"I'll take care of it, Sensei," I added quickly.
"And one more thing," Ooyama said. "You go on patrols, right?"
"Yeah, almost every evening. Sometimes late into the night," Parker replied, clearly a bit intimidated by Ooyama. Not that I could blame her—Sensei's gorgeous but leaves a very… unique impression.
"Good. Then arrange with Tobias to patrol with you once a week. It'll be good for him."
"Uh… Sensei," I hesitated. "I don't mind, but Spider-Girl swings around on webs while I'm stuck running or biking."
"I didn't say she'd swing you around during chases," Ooyama replied, her voice icy as ever. "But if it's a localized issue without a chase, she can drop you at the scene, and you'll handle things together. Besides, you seem to enjoy being carried by women. You looked far too pleased after Hulk carted you off."
"Hulk kidnapped you?!" Parker blurted, her night apparently full of surprises.
"Yeah, it happened. We hopped around the country—nothing major. If you ever meet her, try not to piss her off," I advised. "When she's angry, she gets stronger, and even though she's in a constant state of rage, you can reason with her. Just make it clear you mean no harm. But seriously, Spider-Girl, a fight with Hulk in the city? That's insane levels of destruction, and you'd have zero chance of stopping her. Focus on saving civilians and minimizing damage—don't provoke her. I hope you never face her as an opponent, but if you do, remember my words."
"Okay, Toby, got it," Parker said warmly. I could tell she was smiling under her mask. Did she think I was just looking out for her? Well, I was, but I was also thinking about the city.
A bit later, Parker jumped out, gave me a warm goodbye, and even hugged me before speeding off on her web. She managed a rushed, "Goodbye, Miss Ooyama!" before disappearing. We had each other's numbers, so staying in touch wouldn't be an issue. I moved to the front seat, threw on my cloak, and we drove off in silence.
"Sensei, why patrols with Spider-Girl?" I asked eventually.
"Tsk. I already said—it'll be useful for you. The girl's strong but incredibly naive. Watch her mistakes, and maybe you won't turn into such an idiot."
"Uh… I'm not sure I follow, Sensei."
"She's an idealist," Ooyama said, her tone making it sound like a heinous crime. "You can see it in her 'hero work.' Sure, it does some good, but idealists often make stupid decisions they regret for the rest of their lives. You're one too, but at least you're not hopeless. If you hadn't killed Stryker, I wouldn't have wasted my time on you. I can't stand fools."
"Got it…"
I really did understand what she meant. Her perspective on life was far harsher than most mutants I'd met—closer to Sabretooth or Logan. Logan might not outright approve of killing, but when necessary, he could cut down an enemy without hesitation. Sabretooth, on the other hand, was methodically cruel, though I still held a certain strange fondness for her.
Parker's heroic pacifism must seem, to Ooyama, as it does to me—overly naive. This whole shtick of arresting supervillains? A massive mistake. Think about Carnage from the "original" universe. His host, Cletus Kasady, shouldn't have been sent back to a psych ward. He should have been executed, his body incinerated, and the ashes launched into the Sun. All this playing by laws and democracy? Useless. The same went for Stryker… I'm not sure if I could've killed her had I not seen the lifeless body of ten-year-old Sandy. But after that? I knew she had to die.
In Marvel, villains escape far too often, only to return and wreak more havoc. Sure, petty criminals can rot in prison, but supervillains? They should burn.
I clenched my teeth, a wave of anger bubbling to the surface. That rage from back then never truly disappeared. It had buried itself deep, lying dormant, but the flash of a pale, lifeless face framed by red hair and the ghostly whisper of "You were too late" stirred it violently. I wouldn't make the mistake of letting monsters live. They needed to be eliminated—not for justice, not for anyone else—but for me. I couldn't bear the thought of dead eyes staring at me in the dark, blaming me for their lost lives. If necessary, I'd be vengeance. Maybe even preemptive vengeance.
"Calm down, Onryo," Ooyama's voice startled me, snapping me out of my spiraling thoughts. "You're radiating heat—you'll set your suit on fire. Did my words anger you that much?"
It's ironic—Ooyama only seemed to show emotion in moments like these, as if my anger or frustration amused her. On the training grounds, when I was practically on fire with irritation, she'd even smile. And now, her voice carried curiosity laced with its usual icy calm.
"No, Sensei," I exhaled, trying to steady myself. "I was reflecting on the dangers of misplaced mercy in certain situations."
She laughed—a sharp, wicked laugh, raw and genuine. It wasn't a traditionally pretty sound; more like harsh, barking notes of mirth. But it suited her, and I couldn't help but smile at the sight of her elegant profile. Ooyama was the embodiment of dangerous beauty—terrifyingly stunning, lethally graceful.
Turning her head slightly, she gave me a glance that wasn't cold this time. Instead, it was amused, almost pleased.
"I'm glad, Tobias, that you know how to think. Try doing it more often," she teased, a mocking smile tugging at her lips before she shifted her focus back to the road.
The rest of the ride back to the school was quiet. Occasionally, I caught her lips curling into the faintest smirk, while I let my mind wander… to the idea of a codename.
Thoughts of vengeance brought to mind Nemesis, one of the characters from an old game back in my original world. The name itself came from the goddess of retribution: Nemesis. It sounded powerful, carried the right message, and, as a bonus, the emblem of Nemesis—a chapter from Warhammer 40K—would look damn good on my suit.
That's it. Decision made. Tomorrow, I'd head to McCoy and discuss upgrading my field gear.