Empire State University, Library, After Classes:
"Come on," I said with a smile. "Just say what you wanna say."
Gwen, sitting beside me, sighed.
"Why did you fight Sandman?" Gwen asked hesitantly.
"Are you unhappy that I told you not to fight him, but fought him myself?" I asked with a teasing smirk.
"Don't joke, Kevin," Gwen said, giving me an angry stare. "I am serious."
After a pause, she continued, "I know you were thinking about me when you told me not to fight him. And I know you well enough to know you didn't fight Sandman for fame; otherwise, you wouldn't have deleted the security camera feeds. Nor did you do it because you wanted to save the students selflessly. You are not that kind of person."
With a stare that seemed to bore holes into my face, she asked, "So tell me, Kevin Kolt, why did you fight him? Do you know how worried I was? Not to mention me, even Felicia was worried."
The playful smile vanished from my face. I sighed.
"Gwen," I said in a somber tone. "This world is very dangerous. Even more dangerous than you realize."
I turned away from her and looked ahead at the students studying quietly in the library.
"Suppose Spider-Man and Arachne weren't present today. Suppose Sandman was a murderous psychopath. He would've entombed anyone who got in his way if that were the case."
I licked my dry lips. My back still ached from when he hurled me into the wall.
"He is just one example among many. There are countless others out there who wouldn't hesitate to do the same. What if tomorrow I came across one of them? Should I kneel and offer my neck?"
Gwen placed a hand over mine on the desk.
"I am weak, extremely so. But I won't go down without a fight."
Gwen squeezed my hand. I looked at her, her face filled with concern.
"So that's why I fought. To find out where I currently stand in this world. If someone came for my life, would I even have a fighting chance or not?"
Gwen didn't say anything. She pulled me in and hugged me tightly.
A wry smile appeared on my face as she used enough of her super strength not even giving me a chance to pull away, so I simply accepted my fate.
We separated after a minute. Of course, that was only because everyone in the library was watching us, and Gwen, feeling shy, broke the hug.
"Kevin," Gwen said, her voice emotional but full of conviction. "You don't have to do something so dangerous. I will protect you."
I smiled. "Gwen, I honestly am thankful for the sentiment. I don't even have a problem with letting a girl protect me. But can you protect me 24/7? What about when something like that whale monster that attacked the city a while back shows up again? Are you strong enough to fight that?"
I exhaled. "Gwen, I am not criticizing you or saying you are weak. You are incredibly strong. But there will always be someone stronger."
"I can become even stronger for you," Gwen said in an extremely low voice.
I pretended I didn't hear that.
"That's why, instead of depending on anyone else, I want to become strong myself. I don't want to feel helpless. I want to reach a point where I will never feel helpless." My jaw tightened. "I absolutely abhor that feeling of helplessness."
Both of us stayed silent for some time after that. Gwen looked like she was digesting what I had just said.
"Is this why you are learning martial arts?" Gwen asked a few minutes later.
"Yes," I nodded.
"It's not just for self-defense, is it?" Gwen asked after a moment of thought.
"No, it isn't," I answered truthfully.
I looked into her eyes, dead serious. "I will use lethal force if required, for whatever reason."
Gwen went quiet again. I knew I was playing with fire by telling her this, but her relationship stats were high enough that I took the risk. If it backfired, it could kill any chance I had with her.
Gwen looked like she was having an intense debate inside her head. Finally, she placed her hand back over mine and said, "You don't have to think you are alone in this world. Please, always remember, I've always got your back."
It wasn't a negative response, but it wasn't an overly positive one either. She'd sidestepped the lethal-force part. Overall, it was acceptable.
"Thanks, Gwen," I said, taking both her hands in mine.
I looked intensely into her eyes. "I knew I could count on you."
A heavy blush appeared on her face as she turned her face sideways so she wouldn't have to look directly into my eyes.
"O-of course you can," Gwen stuttered in a low voice.
"By the way, Kevin," Gwen said, looking at me after she regained control of her expression. "Was that…"
Gwen didn't finish the sentence, but the hesitation on her face told me what she wanted to ask.
"Magic?" I said, completing it. "Yes, it was magic. Both when I pulled the jacket from thin air and when I cast the healing spell to heal my injuries."
"But," Gwen continued hesitantly, "isn't magic just fantasy?"
I gave her an exasperated look.
"You are a building-hopping, web-slinging woman spider, and you think magic is fantasy?"
Why did I feel like the same thing had happened before, too?
Whatever.
Gwen opened her mouth to protest, but nothing came out. She tried hard, but couldn't think of anything, so in the end she closed it.
"Fair enough," she said begrudgingly.
I smiled at that.
"Did Felicia know before?" Gwen asked.
"Yes," I answered.
"But why did you use it in front of me?" Gwen asked weakly. "You could've used it when I wasn't around. You shouldn't show it in front of anyone."
"What are you talking about?" I asked with a frown.
Gwen looked at me, confused.
"I used it in front of you because I trust you."
A smile bloomed on her face at that.
Then she asked with a frown, "But if that's the case, why didn't you tell me about it before?"
I gave her a speechless look.
"And what would I have said? Should I have randomly said something like, 'Hey, Gwen, do you know I know magic?'"
I laughed. "If I had said something like that, you would have thought I meant party tricks."
Gwen laughed too. "Yeah," she agreed.
With the heavy stuff behind us, we went back to studying. When we finally packed up, I stretched and offered, "Long day. Want to hit that new Cluckin' Bell that just opened?"
Her face lit up. "Yes, let's go!" she said, excited.
"Awesome, let me call Marko and Felicia too," I said, pulling out my phone.
Gwen's excitement dimmed instantly. "I thought it would just be the two of us…" she murmured.
I pretended I didn't hear her. Again.
—
Cold night wind whipped through the dead-end alley, carrying the sour stink of rotting trash bags piled against the walls. A single dying bulb buzzed above a rusted fire door, throwing weak yellow light over cracked pavement and faded gang tags. Shadows stretched long between the buildings, perfect for hiding guns, money, or bodies. Somewhere above, a window AC unit rattled. Still, down here, the only real sounds were low voices, the click of a lighter, and the occasional distant cop siren reminding everyone that Harlem never really slept.
Three Black thugs talked in the alley.
"Yo, turn that shit up," one man said, exhaling smoke while leaning against the wall. "They still talking about them four on the news. Reed Richards and them niggas really went to space and came back with powers? That's some bullshit. We out here tryna flip packs and these white folks touching the moon."
The other man took the blunt and chuckled. "Man, I saw the footage. That rock dude Ben Grimm look like he could punch a bus in half. And the invisible shawty Sue? She just vanish. How you even fight somebody you can't see?"
The first man laughed. "At least shawty got a fine ass. And the rock dude from Yancy Street—he might be white but the nigga definitely got some hood in him."
The only woman in the group sucked her teeth. "Y'all laughing, but this shit serious. Them Fantastic Four got the whole city talking. They making our jobs difficult."
She took a quick pull from the blunt before passing it back. "And don't get me started on that web-slinging kid they calling Spider-Man. Little young nigga swinging through buildings. I heard he stopped a truck full of guns last week in Brooklyn. What we gon' do if he starts coming to Harlem looking for 'bad guys'?"
The first man scoffed. "Spider-Man sound like a kid. Imagine getting your ass whooped by a teenager in pajamas." He shook his head. "But that devil nigga in Hell's Kitchen different though. No powers, just moves crazy. He been fucking with the Italians heavy. Streets getting hot behind that."
He turned to the woman. "Anyway, fuck all that. Yo, Keisha. How much we got from the blocks tonight?"
Keisha finished counting the money. "Five grand. Bodega owner tried to play slick but folded quick once I mentioned Tombstone's name."
The second man laughed. "Last month when that one spot tried to short us, Tombstone sent word himself. Next day the owner was begging to pay double." He shuddered. "Albino nigga built like a brick wall. I seen him crack a dude's skull with one hand."
The first man took the blunt back and blew out smoke. "Y'all right to stay scared of him. But we eating good under Tombstone. Way better than when we was independent. Now we got real weight moving through the upstate pipeline. We just gotta keep these young'uns from getting greedy."
"One of them tried to pocket an extra five hundred yesterday," he added. "I broke his arm and told him next time it's Tombstone's turn."
"Good," the female thug said, taking the blunt again. "We can't have slip-ups right now. Those talon bastards been testing the edges since the last fuck up."
Just as the conversation continued, headlights swept across the alley. A dark car rolled up slowly and stopped in front of them. The three thugs immediately became alert and stood straight. Hands moved toward weapons.
The window slid down. A woman with deep purple skin stared out at them. Before they could react, a strange wave washed over the group. Their skin began shifting to the same unnatural purple color. They stood with blank eyes.
"Sleep," the purple-skinned woman said calmly.
Keisha and the second man suddenly went limp and collapsed to the ground unconscious. The first man remained standing, frozen in place like a statue.
— Kevin —
Kara, Jessica, and I got out of my car.
"Truthfully answer all questions that we ask," Kara ordered the only standing thug. He nodded with a blank stare.
"Let's start simple. What's your name?" I asked. I was wearing my white, expressionless mask. I had fitted a voice modulator inside it, so my voice came distorted.
"Tyrell," he answered in a flat, lifeless monotone.
"What color underwear did your girlfriend wear last night?"
"Red."
"What's the fetish that you've never told anyone?"
"I like sniffing and licking my girl's armpits."
Jessica and Kara both turned to look at me with raised eyebrows.
I shrugged under my mask. "Just making sure the control is working properly."
Fine, enough jokes.
I turned back to Tyrell. "Tell us about Tombstone. Who are the major lieutenants in the 110th Street crew? Which cops do they own? What kind of product are they moving right now?"
Tyrell answered every question without hesitation, his voice dull and mechanical. He wasn't high enough in the organization to know everything, but what he gave us was solid — names, drop locations, and a few corrupt officers.
The information was good, but not enough to give me more time to get out of my current predicament.
I thought for a moment, then asked, "Are you planning any big jobs in the next few days?"
Tyrell nodded once. "In two days… we're robbing the jewelry store on 125th Street."
I grilled Tyrell for any information he got for the job.
A slow smile spread under my mask.
Now, that's some pretty interesting information.
I pulled out a burner phone from my pocket and tossed it to Jessica.
Jessica understood what I wanted. She pulled out her phone, searched for a number, then dialed it on the burner phone. It was the number of a Crimson Talon lieutenant she got from one of the gang's members she had killed previously. She tossed the phone back to me after dialing.
The call connected after three rings.
"Jimmy," I said.
There was a long pause on the other end.
"Who the fuck is this?" a gruff voice finally growled.
"It doesn't matter who I am," I replied. "What matters is I've got some information you're gonna want to hear."
Jimmy let out a short, humorless laugh. "You got some balls calling me on this number. You a cop? FBI? Or you just some dumbass with a death wish?"
I stayed quiet.
He breathed heavily into the phone.
"Fine. You got ten seconds to convince me not to hang up. After that, I'm tossing this phone, and you can go fuck yourself."
I told Jimmy everything about the jewelry store job I got from Tyrell.
"…The fuck?" Jimmy's voice turned ice cold. "You expect me to believe Tombstone's crew is hitting a jewelry store on 125th in two days? And you just randomly calling me with this like we're old friends?"
He let out a sharp laugh.
"This smells like pure bullshit. You trying to set my crew up? Get us to roll up there so Tombstone can ambush us? Or are you playing both sides like a sneaky little rat?"
I stayed calm, my distorted voice steady through the modulator.
"It's up to you what you do with it," I said. "If the name 'Tombstone' is enough to make you and your boys piss your pants and hide, then that's your business. But if you actually have balls… there's a fat lick sitting there waiting to be taken from him."
Jimmy was quiet for a long moment, clearly thinking.
"You know what," Jimmy said finally. "Fuck you."
He cut the call.
Kara looked at me with a worried face. "Has the plan failed?"
I smiled behind the mask. "No. The fish just bit the bait."
Kara smiled too, relieved.
"We don't need him anymore," I said.
Kara nodded. "Sleep," she commanded. Tyrell went limp, fell unconscious on the ground like his friends, and started snoring.
"Kev," Jessica said, fury blazing in her eyes. "Now that we have got names, should we start hunting them?"
"Be patient, Jes," I said softly, caressing her cheek. The anger in her eyes faded a little. "They've got a lot of powerful people behind them. We can't just rush in. We have to dismantle the entire gang piece by piece."
—
It was the last day of the week. The day passed uneventfully. It was now late at night, and I was in Hell's Kitchen.
The night air in Hell's Kitchen carried the usual mix of rain, exhaust, and distant sirens.
I kept my hood up as I approached the unmarked brownstone on a side street off Tenth Avenue. No neon sign, just a plain black door with a small camera above it.
It was a place called "Babe's."
I knocked twice. A heavy-set man with a faded tattoo on his neck opened the door, gave me a once-over, and stepped aside without a word. Inside, the air was warmer, thicker—cheap perfume, cigarette smoke, and something faintly chemical. Low red lighting, muffled music from a back room. Three women lounged on worn couches in the waiting area. One looked bored, scrolling on her phone. Another smiled too quickly.
I looked at the women, and when I found my target, I turned to face the bored-faced manager. She was a sharp-faced woman in her forties, likely the madam here.
I said flatly, "Her," and pointed to the blonde woman in white lingerie.
The manager's expression didn't change. "Fifty for half. Eighty for a full hour. Cash."
I placed a few tens and twenties on the counter. "Half hour."
The manager tucked them away and jerked her head towards the stairs. "Second floor. Third door to the right."
I climbed the narrow staircase. The carpet was threadbare. At the third door, I pushed it open without knocking. It was a dimly lit room that smelled of fabric softener and old wood.
I sat on the bed, waiting.
I came to this place for only one reason: information.
I sat on the threadbare bed, waiting. This wasn't my first time using this kind of establishment for intel. Back when I was hunting pirates, the best information always came from the bar wenches. The principle was the same; only the era and the perfume had changed.
Initially, I had put the main mission on the back burner because I had felt I wasn't strong enough for the mission.
However, I now felt there was a good chance of tackling it. But there was a problem. As part of the objectives, I needed to hunt multiple members from three different gangs and even annihilate one gang.
Even if I were somewhat confident with my skills, if I picked a fight with the wrong gang, then I would be royally fucked. I needed some weak targets to bully, and a gang so weak and with no backing that it would be easy to destroy it.
One option for that was to ask around, which would paint a big fucking target on my back. Within two days max, I would be kidnapped from my home and dumped in the Hudson. I could also use Kara's help, just like I did the previous day, but that approach was too tedious.
So, I thought, why not repeat history and ask escorts about what they knew about the current affairs?
A knock came from the other side of the door, then the door opened, and my target entered the room.
"Hey, I am Lyla," the blonde said with a slight nervous smile and sat on the bed beside me. Her smile was practiced, but exhaustion showed in her eyes. She tried to hide it, but I could see faint bruise marks hidden by makeup.
I got up and locked the door.
"Sorry, forgot about that," Lyla said with an embarrassed smile.
She reached back to unhook her bra, but I gestured for her to stop.
"You wanna do it like this?" Lyla asked.
"I am here for some information," I said plainly. "No other business."
I pulled a hundred-dollar bill from my pocket and put it on the side table.
Lyla looked tense hearing that, but the money reduced the tension somewhat.
"Wh-what do you want?" Lyla asked with hesitation.
I remained standing. I asked with a low voice, "Recent clients. Who's been coming around?"
Lyla glanced toward the door, then back at the money. Her voice was soft, almost hesitant.
"Um… mostly the usual this week. A couple of guys from the docks yesterday. They were loud and smelled like seawater. They were talking about some shipment coming in from Jersey. There was a guy last night with lots of tattoos who bragged he works for someone named Silvio."
I nodded and put another hundred on the table.
"Anything moving on the streets? New faces? Trouble?"
She eyed the money. She shrugged lightly, still not meeting my eyes for long.
"It's been busier than normal. More people are coming in from uptown. Some of the girls said there's a new product showing up on the 10th and 11th, but I don't know what kind. A few clients were complaining about the Irish crews pushing harder lately. One guy was really angry, said someone ripped off his stash house two nights ago on 48th."
I placed another hundred on the table. "Devil been around lately?"
She tensed visibly, shoulders drawing in.
"I… I heard one client say the Devil beat up three guys from the Italian mafia on 58th Street last week. Broke their arms. Everyone's a little more careful at night now."
I gave a single nod. "That's it."
I sat back on the bed. "Let's wait until the half hour is up."
I sat in silence while Lyla, beside me, fidgeted the entire time.
"Um… Are you sure you don't want to do anything?" Lyla asked with hesitation.
"Yes," I answered simply.
Lyla nodded nervously. A few minutes later, she again spoke.
"Are you sure?" She asked again nervously. "If you like, I can at least use my hand. I feel bad for taking your money and not doing anything."
"No need," I said plainly. "The money was for the information, so no need to feel guilty."
Lyla nodded stiffly. The remaining time passed quickly for me, but for Lyla, it might be like multiple hours.
At the twenty-nine-minute mark, I stood up, yanked my shirt off, and threw it back on, ruffling my hair and undoing a few buttons. I walked out into the hallway, pasting a satisfied, slightly exhausted smirk on my face. If the manager was looking, I needed to look like a man who just got his money's worth.
I left the building without looking back. I stopped after some distance from the building and messaged Jessica to call me.
Because I couldn't know when Jessica might be near Zebediah, I could only message her. Otherwise, if I called her and Zebediah found out, my days would be numbered.
I got into my car and left the area. I got a call from Jessica after ten minutes.
"Hey, Kev," Jessica said cheerfully.
"Hey, Jes," I greeted back. "Can you verify some information for me?"
"Sure," she agreed readily.
I gave her the information Lyla gave me.
"Verify it if it is not dangerous to do so. If it is, then forget about it."
After some small talk, I cut the call.
I focused back on the road.
Let's see, Lyla, whether you are worth revisiting.