Doctor Octavius kept his eyes closed as Anti-Venom continued tearing through the unstable hybrid.
The symbiote wrapped around Carl's drone body writhed violently.
Chunks of black-and-green biomass sloughed away before reforming.
Then sloughed away again.
And again.
The creature was losing.
Temp V was breaking it apart.
Anti-Venom was purging it.
The two opposing forces were destroying the hybrid faster than it could stabilize itself.
"AHHHHHHHHH—!!"
Carl screamed as the pain surged through their connection.
The drone's mechanical limbs spasmed uncontrollably.
Its screen flickered.
Power readings fluctuated wildly across the monitor.
Doctor Octavius finally opened his eyes.
"Relax, Carl."
His voice remained calm.
Almost reassuring.
"In a moment, the pain will stop."
Carl barely heard him.
His entire world had become agony.
The symbiote continued melting away from his prison like burning tar.
"What... are you doing...?"
Doctor Octavius glanced toward the floating Family Tree interface.
"Sending you somewhere useful."
Carl stared at him.
Confused.
Terrified.
The doctor smiled faintly.
"When you arrive, you'll find yourself inside a parking structure."
He adjusted a few settings.
"There will be a masked boy waiting for you."
Carl's vision blurred.
The laboratory lights stretched into long trails of white.
"Follow his instructions."
The doctor continued working.
"He'll guide you to your target."
"My... target...?"
Carl barely managed to ask.
Doctor Octavius nodded.
"Everything after that depends on you."
The symbiote suddenly lost cohesion.
Its body collapsed inward.
The black-and-green mass dissolved into glowing sludge and corrosive waste.
The metal frame beneath began to emerge.
Silver plating.
Ectoplasm-lit joints.
Mechanical limbs covered in cracks left by the unstable fusion.
The remaining symbiote tissue tore itself apart while desperately trying to hold together.
But Doctor Octavius already knew it wouldn't survive much longer.
Which was exactly why he needed to finalize the transfer now.
No matter the cost.
1,000 EXP.
3 Accessory Tokens.
The price hardly mattered if it allowed Carl to operate inside the MHA world.
Still—
one detail continued bothering him.
Repayment Cost (1 Weeks): Weekly Evaluation Reworking.
His eyes narrowed.
What exactly does that mean?
I understand the evaluation part. The system observes my actions and rewards Action Points accordingly.
But the reworking...
What is it reworking?
The question lingered in the back of his mind.
For now, however, there were more pressing concerns.
"Do not fail me, Carl."
Doctor Octavius pushed aside his speculation and focused on the task at hand.
"Bring me Inko Midoriya, and I'll return Sandra and your son to you."
His gaze settled on Carl's deteriorating drone body.
Dark.
Unblinking.
"But if you don't..."
Huh...?
What did he say...?
Everything unraveled at once.
The world twisted around Carl.
Sound stretched thin.
Reality folded inward.
Carl felt his stomach drop.
The laboratory vanished.
The screens vanished.
The doctor vanished.
All that remained was white.
Endless white.
No sound.
No sensation.
No up.
No down.
Nothing.
Then—
THUMP.
Carl stumbled forward.
THUMP.
His mechanical tentacles slammed into concrete, stabilizing his body before he could collapse.
The world tilted violently around him.
His vision swayed left.
Then right.
The lingering dizziness refused to fade.
Thunk.
Thunk.
Sluuush.
Large chunks of unstable symbiote matter peeled away from his frame and splattered onto the ground.
The concrete hissed.
A foul odor filled the air as the sludge ate into the floor like acid.
Only the drone's metal frame remained untouched.
Carl's vision rapidly cleared.
Gray support pillars.
Unfinished walls.
Exposed steel beams.
A half-constructed parking structure.
He froze.
The laboratory was gone.
West City was gone.
Doctor Octavius was gone.
Only the distant sounds of construction echoed up from the lower floors.
Slowly, Carl turned his head.
A figure stood several meters away.
Black hoodie.
Baseball cap.
Face mask.
Watching him.
Waiting.
Just as the doctor had promised.
The masked boy casually raised a hand.
"Good."
His violet eyes reflected the fading evening light.
"You made it."
Carl stared at him.
Then looked down at his own form.
His ghostly body remained trapped inside the twisted mass of machinery and ectoplasmic wiring.
So it hadn't been a dream.
He was still dead.
And that thing still had his family.
"What... happened?"
The boy tilted his head.
"Long story."
He turned toward the open side of the parking structure.
"Come on."
His voice carried an odd familiarity.
"We've got work to do."
Carl didn't move.
For several long seconds, neither of them spoke.
The wind whistled through the unfinished structure.
Below them, the distant sounds of construction continued as if nothing strange had happened.
Carl stared at the masked boy.
Then at his own reflection in a nearby puddle.
A twisted mass of machinery.
Glowing ectoplasmic joints.
Mechanical tentacles.
A ghost trapped inside a machine.
His hands clenched.
Sandra.
Ben.
His family.
Everything had been taken from him.
And now he was being ordered around by strangers.
Used.
Manipulated.
Promised answers in exchange for becoming a criminal.
His stomach twisted.
"I know he's lying."
The words came out quietly.
The masked boy stopped walking.
Carl's voice grew harsher.
"I know that doctor is lying."
His tentacles scraped against the concrete.
"I know this is a trap."
The boy remained silent.
Carl laughed bitterly.
A broken, hollow sound.
"But what choice do I have?"
The question wasn't directed at the boy.
It wasn't directed at anyone.
He already knew the answer.
None.
Because the moment Sandra's name had been mentioned—
the moment Ben became a possibility—
he'd already lost.
The masked boy finally spoke.
"Maybe."
Carl looked up sharply.
The boy's violet eyes met his.
"Or maybe he's telling the truth."
Carl wanted to scream.
Wanted to attack him.
Wanted to demand answers.
Instead, he looked away.
Because hope was a cruel thing.
Cruel enough to make a man gamble everything on a lie.
The masked boy reached into his pocket and pulled out two walkie-talkies.
He tossed one toward Carl.
The drone caught it automatically with a tentacle.
"Get that acidic sludge off yourself first."
Carl looked down.
The unstable symbiote matter was still dripping from his frame, hissing against the concrete.
The boy clipped the second radio to his belt.
"I'll guide you through the city."
Carl stared at the device in his grasp.
For a moment, he considered crushing it.
Throwing it away.
Leaving.
Doing anything except following another order.
Then Sandra's face appeared in his mind.
Followed by Ben's.
His grip tightened.
"...If you're lying to me too..."
His voice came out low and dangerous.
The masked boy shrugged.
"Then you'll have plenty of opportunities to complain later."
Carl hated how casual the response was.
Hated the boy.
Hated the doctor.
Hated himself for even considering this.
But most of all—
he hated that a small part of him still believed.
Slowly, Carl pulled the walkie-talkie closer to his frame.
The decision felt like placing a collar around his own neck.
The masked boy nodded once.
Then turned and began walking.
This time, Carl followed.
Not because he trusted them.
Not because he believed them.
But because hope was the only thing he had left.
And sometimes that was enough to make a man walk willingly into hell.