[George POV]
The hospital chair was stiff beneath me, the kind of discomfort that burrowed deep into your bones after hours of waiting. My hands trembled slightly as I ran them down my face, exhaustion pressing against my skull. The scent of antiseptic filled the air, sterile and unforgiving.
I had spent the past few days holed up in my precinct, drowning in reports, cases, and the kind of work that kept me from going home. Gwen had always been there for me, bringing me breakfast, making sure I ate, making sure I didn't forget that I still had a life beyond the badge.
And then this morning—
Killgrave.
I had no control. None. My own hands turned against me, my body no longer my own. I could feel the trigger beneath my finger, Gwen standing beside me, just as helpless. The horror in her eyes mirrored my own.
And then the masked man came.
It happened so fast. A blur of movement, the grip on my mind shattering. The tension in my muscles released like a snapped wire. But the relief was short-lived. Gunfire. Screaming. Blood spilling onto the floor.
Gwen's blood.
I had held her in my arms as she gasped in pain, her fingers clutching at my sleeve. I had never felt so powerless. And then the vigilante… he didn't hesitate. He put a bullet straight through Killgrave's head.
Now I was here, waiting. Useless.
A doctor emerged from the operating room, pulling off his gloves. I shot to my feet.
"She's stable," he said, and I nearly collapsed with relief. "The bullet missed the bone, but she's going to need time to recover."
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Can I see her?"
"In a little while.", I noticed Gray sitting opposite me, was about to get up.
As the doctor walked away, I exhaled shakily, leaning against the wall. My hands were still trembling.
I owed the masked man my daughter's life. And I hated that more than anything.
[Gray POV]
My fingers clenched into fists on my lap, every muscle in my body tight with frustration and helplessness. I was sitting in front of Gwen's room when she was being operated on, her mother and father were siting with me. I told them that I was a close friend of hers.
Gwen was in surgery. Because of me.
I ran a hand through my hair, my breaths coming uneven. I had been too late. I pulled into the precinct the second I felt something was wrong, and the moment I saw him—Killgrave, that sick bastard. The way George and Gwen stood, hands trembling, her own gun pointed at herself, their expressions frozen in horror.
I didn't hesitate. I moved.
Breaking Killgrave's hold wasn't difficult…not for me. Using my telepathy although weak breaking his influence, shattering the invisible chains binding them. But in the chaos, gunfire erupted. A stray bullet … no, not stray. Aimed. And Gwen…
She hit the ground. Blood spilling from her thigh, her breath sharp and pained. Everything else blurred. The shouts. The bodies moving. And Killgrave—
I shot him without thinking.
No hesitation. No second chances. One clean bullet to the head.
Now, here I was. Useless. Waiting. The worst kind of torment.
The door to the OR finally opened, and I shot to my feet. A doctor stepped out, exhaustion heavy in his features.
"She's stable," he said, and my knees nearly gave out. "The bullet missed the bone. She's lucky."
Lucky.
I nodded, forcing myself to breathe, standing up. I had faced death, violence, monsters wearing human skin. But nothing terrified me more than almost losing her.
I closed my eyes and exhaled.
Killgrave was gone. Gwen was alive.
And I wasn't going to let anything like this happen again. I need to get more strength.
[1 week later]
Oscorp's security was good. But not good enough.
I phased through the outer walls with ease, stepping into the sterile, dimly lit corridors of the research division. Cameras lined the ceilings, motion sensors scanned every inch of the floor—but none of that mattered to me. I wasn't bound by locked doors or security checkpoints. I walked straight through them, like a ghost moving unseen through the world.
The lab was cold, humming with the quiet buzz of high-tech equipment. A row of glass containers sat at the far end of the room, each one housing a small, skittering creature.
The spiders. I took out 4 spiders.
I approached the enclosure, pressing a gloved hand against the reinforced glass. Inside, the spiders twitched and crawled, their bodies glowing faintly under the blue light. Radioactive. Genetically modified. The key to something far greater than anyone in this building realized.
I phased my hand through the glass, careful, deliberate. One by one, I lifted the specimens, placing them into a secure container strapped to my belt. No alarms blared. No frantic guards came storming in.
No one knew I was here.
Within minutes, I was done. I stepped back, phasing through the floor just as silently as I had arrived. Moving undetected through layers of steel and concrete, emerging into the cool night air above.
As I stood on the rooftop, looking down at the city, I tightened my grip on the container. I quickly vanished through the building and headed to my Sanctuary. Time do some research
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