Ethan woke up with a sharp inhale, his muscles aching in a way that felt both painful and satisfying. His body was still undergoing changes, adjusting itself in response to the brutal experiments he had endured. It was fascinating yet terrifying. He could feel something inside him working—almost like an unseen force ensuring that whatever was done to him would never happen again.
He rolled his shoulders, feeling the way his muscles seemed denser, more compact. It wasn't super strength, not exactly, but he could tell he was getting stronger, tougher. His body was optimizing itself.
Standing up, he moved to the mirror, pulling up his shirt. The scars were still there, but they looked… lighter than before. Less jagged. His body was recovering, rebuilding itself into something that couldn't be broken again.
Adapting.
The thought sent a shiver down his spine.
To test his limits, he dropped into a push-up position and started counting.
"One. Two. Three…"
By the time he hit a hundred, he was barely sweating. A few days ago, his arms would have given out at sixty. Now? He felt like he could keep going indefinitely.
His breathing steadied, and he clenched his fists. This power—it wasn't just a gift. It was his weapon.
A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.
"Yo, you up?" Peter's voice called.
"Yeah, I'm up," Ethan responded, grabbing a towel.
"Good, 'cause we've got work to do. I found something."
Ethan's heartbeat quickened.
Time to move.
(Line break)
Peter's laptop screen displayed a detailed map of the city, with three red dots marking specific locations.
"This is where Fisk has been moving his 'special cargo,'" Peter explained. "One of these warehouses might be the place where you were experimented on."
Ethan leaned over the map. "How do we know which one is the right one?"
"We don't," Peter admitted. "But I think I found us some help."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "What kind of help?"
Peter smirked. "A guy who hates Fisk just as much as you do."
He turned toward the door.
"Come in," Peter called.
The door creaked open, and a figure stepped in.
A man in a red mask and a devil-horned suit.
Ethan's breath hitched. No way.
Daredevil.
(Line break)
The night air was cool against Ethan's skin as he crouched on the rooftop, his heart pounding in sync with the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Beside him, Peter and Daredevil observed the warehouse below, its towering metal walls hiding whatever secrets Kingpin had buried inside.
"This is it," Daredevil murmured. "Fisk's men use this place to store classified shipments. If he's got records of his 'special projects,' they'll be in there."
Peter adjusted the lenses on his mask. "So, what's the play?"
Daredevil tilted his head, listening. "Ten guards. Two on the roof, four patrolling the perimeter, the rest inside. Motion detectors at the entrance."
Ethan swallowed. "Great. So, we just… casually sneak past all that?"
Peter grinned. "More like knock 'em out before they notice us."
Daredevil was already moving, silently scaling the adjacent wall. In a blur, he took down the first two rooftop guards, their bodies slumping before they could make a sound.
Peter tapped Ethan's shoulder. "Your turn, rookie."
Ethan exhaled, letting his instincts guide him. He dropped to the ground below, his newly enhanced reflexes making his landing almost noiseless. The first guard barely had time to react before Ethan's fist connected with his jaw, sending him into unconsciousness.
Whoa. That was—
The second guard turned, drawing his weapon—
Ethan twisted, avoiding the shot by inches, then lashed out with a powerful kick. The guard collapsed, groaning in pain.
Peter landed beside him. "Not bad."
They slipped into the warehouse.
Inside, rows of metal crates stretched in every direction. The scent of oil and steel lingered in the air.
Ethan scanned the room. "Where do we start?"
Daredevil pointed. "That office in the back. That's where they keep their records."
Peter nodded. "Alright, let's move—"
A blinding floodlight flared on, bathing the warehouse in harsh white light.
A deep, booming voice filled the space.
"Well, well… what do we have here?"
Ethan's breath caught in his throat.
From the shadows, a massive figure stepped forward.
Kingpin.
(Line break)
Ethan kept his expression neutral beneath his mask. He doesn't recognize me.
Kingpin adjusted the cuffs of his immaculate white suit, his piercing gaze scanning them. "Spider-Man. Daredevil. And… someone new." His lips curled into an amused smirk. "How interesting."
Peter shot a web at one of the ceiling beams, launching himself upward. "Yeah, yeah—love the villain speech, Fisk, but we're kind of in a hurry."
Kingpin sighed. "A shame." He lifted a hand—
And all hell broke loose.
Armed guards flooded in, their weapons drawn.
Ethan dodged as bullets whizzed past, his body reacting faster than ever before. His skin hardened instinctively, making the impacts sting but not pierce.
Peter swung low, kicking two guards aside, while Daredevil weaved through the chaos, striking with deadly precision.
Ethan grabbed a metal pipe from a crate and smashed it into a guard's ribs, sending him sprawling.
Then—
A shadow loomed over him.
Kingpin.
The crime lord moved shockingly fast for his size, swinging a meaty fist toward Ethan's head.
Ethan barely ducked in time—the sheer force of the punch shattered the crate behind him.
He felt his body adjusting, the soreness from his earlier training vanishing. His muscles were learning from the fight.
Kingpin's eyes narrowed. "You're different."
Ethan didn't respond. He just moved, sidestepping as Peter shot another web—this time yanking Kingpin backward into a stack of crates.
Daredevil landed beside them. "We need to go. Now."
Ethan turned toward the back office. "The files—"
"I got them," Peter cut in, holding up a USB drive.
Ethan exhaled in relief.
A loud BANG echoed through the warehouse—one of the guards had pulled the pin on a grenade.
"MOVE!" Daredevil barked.
They sprinted as the explosion erupted behind them.
Flames engulfed the warehouse, smoke filling the air.
Ethan's lungs burned, but he pushed forward. His body adjusted to the lack of oxygen, helping him keep pace.
Peter grabbed him by the arm, web-swinging them out of the collapsing structure.
They landed hard on a rooftop across the street, coughing.
Ethan turned, watching as the warehouse burned, the night sky glowing orange.
They had barely made it out alive.
(Line break)
Peter ripped off his mask, running a hand through his sweaty hair. "Okay. That could've gone better."
Daredevil exhaled. "Fisk knows someone else is after him now."
Ethan stared at the USB drive in Peter's hand. "So… what's on there?"
Peter twirled it between his fingers. "Hopefully? Everything we need to take Fisk down."
Ethan's fists clenched. His body was still buzzing with residual energy. He felt stronger than before.
He was done being a victim.
Kingpin had stolen his parents.
He wasn't going to let him get away with it.
Peter shot him a sideways glance. "You in?"
Ethan met his gaze.
Hell yes.
(Line break)
Ethan sat on the rooftop ledge, staring at the burning warehouse below. His body still tingled from the fight, his muscles adapting, reinforcing, ensuring that the next time he faced Kingpin's forces, he wouldn't struggle as much.
He clenched his fists, feeling the subtle shift beneath his skin. My body is changing… adjusting. It was both exhilarating and terrifying.
Peter sat beside him, mask pulled back, his face lit by the flickering flames. He exhaled, shaking his head. "That was a mess."
Daredevil remained standing, arms crossed, his posture tense. "Fisk won't forget this. He may not have seen your face," he glanced at Ethan, "but he knows you exist now. That means you're a target."
Ethan absorbed that information in silence. It didn't scare him. If anything, it only fueled his resolve.
"I don't care," Ethan muttered. "I've been a target since the moment he killed my parents. That doesn't change anything."
Peter's eyes softened. "I get it, man. But taking down Fisk isn't a sprint. It's a marathon."
Ethan scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't have time for a marathon. The longer we wait, the more people suffer."
Daredevil turned toward him, his sightless gaze somehow still piercing. "Revenge makes you reckless. Trust me, I know."
Ethan met his gaze, unyielding. "This isn't just revenge." He gestured toward the USB drive Peter held. "This is proof. A chance to dismantle everything he's built. I won't waste it."
Daredevil nodded slightly, as if approving of Ethan's conviction. "Then you'd better be ready. Because Fisk won't play fair."
Peter smirked. "Yeah, big guy doesn't exactly scream 'fair fight.'"
Ethan's expression darkened. "Then I'll adapt."
The words left his lips before he even thought about them, but they felt right. I'll adapt… just like I always do.
Peter stood, stretching. "Alright, as much as I love brooding on rooftops, I think we should head back. Aunt May's probably wondering why I'm out so late. Again."
Ethan pushed himself up, feeling the residual soreness fading already. "Yeah. Let's go."
Daredevil inclined his head. "I'll keep in touch. Be careful."
With that, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving Ethan and Peter alone on the rooftop.
Peter glanced at him. "You good?"
Ethan took one last look at the burning warehouse, inhaling the smoke-filled air.
"No," he admitted. "But I will be."
Peter nodded, and without another word, they web-slung into the night.
Back at Peter's Apartment
The warmth of Peter's apartment was a stark contrast to the night's chaos. Aunt May had already gone to bed, but she'd left the porch light on, a silent message that they were always welcome.
Ethan collapsed onto the couch with a groan, rubbing his temple. "I swear, every time we do something like this, I get a year older."
Peter chuckled, tossing his mask onto the coffee table. "Welcome to my life, buddy."
Ethan sat up, watching as Peter plugged the USB into his laptop. The screen glowed, lines of encrypted data flooding in.
"So," Ethan asked. "Can you crack it?"
Peter smirked, fingers flying across the keyboard. "Please. This encryption is outdated. Give me five minutes."
Ethan leaned back, exhaling. His mind was still racing, replaying the fight, the way his body had reacted, adapted.
He flexed his fingers. The soreness from earlier? Completely gone. The bruises? Already fading. His body wasn't just healing. It was learning.
I'm not the same person I was yesterday. Every fight, every struggle… it's shaping me.
Peter snapped his fingers. "Boom. I'm in."
Ethan leaned forward as the files decrypted, revealing detailed records of Kingpin's dealings—his businesses, his secret accounts, even logs of illegal experiments.
His stomach twisted. How many people have suffered because of this?
Peter's face darkened. "This… this is enough to put Fisk away for life."
Ethan's grip tightened. "Then let's use it."
Peter hesitated. "We have to be smart about this. If we go public too soon, Fisk will just cover his tracks."
Ethan exhaled sharply. "So what do we do?"
Peter's eyes gleamed. "We do what I do best." He grinned. "We annoy the hell out of him."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "How?"
Peter leaned back, smirking. "We slowly leak bits of this data to the right people. Journalists. Police. Every time Fisk tries to squash one fire, another pops up. We make his life a living hell until he's got nowhere left to run."
Ethan nodded, the idea settling in his mind. "Death by a thousand cuts."
Peter grinned. "Exactly."
Ethan's chest felt lighter. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he had a real chance to make a difference.
Kingpin took everything from him.
Now?
It was time to take something back.
(Line break)
Ethan stared at the screen, his eyes scanning the countless files Peter had decrypted. The sheer amount of illegal activities recorded in these documents made his blood boil. There were bribes, money laundering, assassinations, and, most infuriating of all, experiments on unwilling subjects. He clenched his fists, the urge to punch something nearly overwhelming.
Kingpin had destroyed countless lives. He wasn't just a crime boss—he was a monster in a suit, controlling the city like a spider at the center of its web. And now, Ethan had the knife to cut that web apart.
Peter tapped the screen. "This right here? This is a list of all the locations Fisk uses to store cash. He doesn't trust banks, so most of his fortune is kept in warehouses and private vaults across the city."
Ethan smirked. "So, we burn them all down?"
Peter shot him a look. "No, we don't 'burn them all down.' That's illegal."
Ethan rolled his eyes. "Like that's ever stopped you."
Peter grinned. "Fair point. But we need to be strategic about this. Fisk isn't an idiot. If his money starts disappearing too fast, he'll know someone's targeting him."
Ethan leaned forward, thinking. "So, we take it slow. Hit different locations at different times. Make it look like random robberies, gang fights, maybe even police raids."
Peter nodded. "Exactly. And while we're doing that, we leak information about his operations to the press, the authorities, even rival crime bosses. The more chaos we create, the weaker he becomes."
Ethan exhaled, feeling the weight of their plan settle in. This wasn't just about revenge anymore. This was war—a war fought in the shadows, where every move had to be precise.
Peter cracked his knuckles. "Alright, step one: we need a way to move money without getting caught."
Ethan tilted his head. "You're a millionaire tech genius. You can't just… I don't know, make it disappear?"
Peter sighed. "I could, but that would leave a digital footprint. Fisk has hackers and informants everywhere. We need something untraceable."
Ethan thought for a moment before an idea struck him. "What if we use criminals to do the work for us?"
Peter blinked. "Come again?"
Ethan grinned. "Think about it—Fisk has a ton of enemies. Small-time criminals, rival gangs, even ex-employees who hate his guts. What if we make it look like they're the ones raiding his stashes?"
Peter's eyes widened. "That… actually might work."
Ethan's grin widened. "We leak info about his cash locations to certain people. Let the crooks steal the money for us. Fisk will be so busy dealing with them that he won't even see us coming."
Peter let out a low whistle. "Damn. That's actually pretty clever. Scary, but clever."
Ethan leaned back, smirking. "Told you. I'm not just a pretty face."
Peter snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Alright, let's figure out our first target."
Two nights later, Ethan and Peter crouched on a rooftop across from a Fisk-owned warehouse. The building looked abandoned on the outside, but through the windows, they could see armed guards patrolling the inside.
Peter adjusted his mask. "Alright, the plan is simple: we sneak in, grab as much info as we can, and leave without being seen."
Ethan smirked. "Right. Because everything always goes according to plan."
Peter groaned. "Just… try not to punch anyone unless absolutely necessary."
Ethan flexed his fingers. "No promises."
With that, they moved. Peter shot a web to the side of the warehouse and swung inside through an open window. Ethan, not having the luxury of web-shooters, climbed down using the fire escape, his body moving faster and quieter than he expected. Another adaptation? He made a mental note to test it later.
Once inside, they stuck to the shadows, avoiding the guards as they navigated the warehouse. Peter's suit had built-in stealth mode, allowing him to blend into the darkness almost effortlessly. Ethan, on the other hand, relied purely on instinct—moving at just the right moments, stepping lightly enough to not make a sound.
They reached the storage area, where stacks of crates were piled high. Peter pulled out a small device and plugged it into a nearby computer terminal.
"Give me a second," he whispered. "I'm hacking their logs."
Ethan stood guard, his eyes scanning the room. His heart was steady, his body calm but ready—like a predator waiting for prey.
Then, he heard footsteps.
Two guards were coming their way.
Ethan reacted instantly, grabbing Peter and pulling him behind a stack of crates. Peter almost yelped, but Ethan clamped a hand over his mouth.
The guards stopped a few feet away, talking in hushed voices.
"Boss says we need to move the money soon. Too many people sniffing around."
"Yeah? Where to?"
"Dunno. Some private vault. But get this—word is, someone's been leaking info about Fisk's stash spots. He's pissed."
Peter and Ethan exchanged a look. That was fast.
One of the guards sighed. "Man, I do not wanna be around when Fisk finds out who's behind this."
The second guard shivered. "Yeah. He'll crush 'em."
They eventually moved on, and Ethan released Peter.
"Okay," Peter whispered. "New plan. We need to move now."
Ethan nodded. "Then let's go."
After grabbing the necessary data, Peter and Ethan exited the warehouse unseen. But before they left, Ethan pulled out a spray can from his jacket.
Peter frowned. "What are you doing?"
Ethan smirked as he painted a symbol on the side of the warehouse—a simple yet clear message.
A red circle with a line through it.
A warning.
A declaration of war.
Peter sighed. "Subtle."
Ethan grinned. "Fisk needs to know. He's not untouchable anymore."
Peter hesitated, then nodded. "Alright. Let's see how he reacts."
With that, they vanished into the night, leaving behind nothing but the symbol—a promise that Kingpin's reign was coming to an end.